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fairene · 7 months ago

Text

gravity / ln

lando norris x fem!reader

reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n.

where your life with him is just beginning.

yes! yes! i have insane brainrot for lando norris! yes! this is meant as a single 'oneshot' of sorts, but i am open to taking requests of this so called 'universe.' reader here is a stem major, particularly physics (shoutout to the stem students!) which helps perfect the progression. also was inspired by interstellar.

wc: 15.2k woops!

warnings: smut! -- MINORS DNI!!, porn with a lot of plot! angst, drinking, language, friends to lovers, corruption kink (minor), choking, soft!top lando.

it was all consuming; he was, at least, with his curly hair, upturned eyes, smile that brightened the entire room. utterly irresistible, any woman could agree. they’d jump his bones the second he gave them a lingering glance, a playful wink. but that’s all it ever was with those girls— glances, observations. but you, on the contrary, were a fixation. an obsession, one might call it— actually, someone has before. but you ignored it and let it fly over your whimsical head. how could a man like lando norris ever glance in your direction like he did those models, influencers?

you were always just his friend. his best one, yours too you’d admit only in the solace of your lonesome in the hours of the evening. you met him when you were studying abroad in london at the ripe age of nineteen. you were there on a research term for a professor at your university, though it was much far north of london's borders. still, the girlfriends you managed to make would insist on your attendance to the night club scene on the town.

who were you to deny any pleasantries? a hardworking student. a student with a vision, a dream to be more than what society compressed women to be. you’d rather be out to the stake like a medieval witch than become a loftily homemaker. while it was some of your friends desires, yours stretched far beyond the horizon of which any life was palpable.

a nerd in short terms.

you studied physics. with as much fun as your girlfriends had in the club, you found it in the quiet evenings if your research. you’ve devoted a great deal of time for your studies, but hey— every girl lets go here and there.

the one time you did, you met him. in the late evening hours of the bustling club, drink in your hand, short dress sticking to your sweaty skin, he scared your close friend, laurel.

“boo,” he had said with a low tone, grabbing the girl with a blonde bob by the shoulders. she shrieked despite the loud atmosphere and spun around, slapping him on the chest.

“lando!” she exclaimed, which had your attention drawn upward from the half bitten olive in your martini. he was taller than her, than you, muscularity built with a low taper cut of chestnut hair. he was freckled, and the first thing you noticed about him was the way that his eyes smiled.

they curved up at the edges and you could feel the warmth of the sun drip in from the rooftop. even though it was past midnight at this point.

“i didn’t know you were coming,” laurel breathed at an awkward pace then turned to face you. she outreached her hand for you to take with your free one. you did, feeling warm from the alcohol that you had downed from the night.

“lando, this is my bestie from school,” she introduced you by name, to which you gave a small, dramatic courtesy towards the brit. his eyes caught on your act, gleaming with something you could even see in the yellow hued lights of the club. “this is lando norris, rookie of…what team again?”

you glanced from laurel to lando, brows raised. he hesitated for a moment, gracing you with a lopsided smile that, in time, you’d come to adore.

“mclaren. formula one racing.” he answered, taking a hand to brace the back of his neck. he felt the need to clarify for you, which you took in earnest. he earned a light ahh in your reaction.

you were impressed, to say the least. you hadn’t ever met a formula one driver in the flesh, nor you could say you were a devoting fan. of course you knew what it was, watched it on sundays when your uni friends would turn it on, but that was it. as smart as you were, it seemed that someone knew more about something than you did. you reeled.

“and you like it?” you said after a beat, swirling the toothpick inside the olive around your finger. lando seemed to contemplate your words, taken back by such a question. without a doubt he liked racing, otherwise he wouldn’t do it. but that’s not what she was asking, was she? it weighed on him more as his mind unraveled the layers to such a question, but he ended on a simple answer:

“i don’t know if i could love anything more.” a jest, playful and lightheaded when it came from him.

but how the whims would be tested over the years.

────────────

a year later

“a whole season, lando?” you asked him, hands drawn out before you to iterate the sincerity of what he was asking.

a season of going to races with him.

you were graduating within the next two semesters. twenty two now, whereas he was twenty three. but you had qualified to graduate early, as your intent was to do as such, but the tempting leave of absence form that sat in your lap tempted you even further.

you sat in his monaco flat, a frequent place you visited or stayed until you recently gained residency in monte carlo. it was efficient enough for what you needed to do for work— france around the corner, italy to the west. the best physicians rallied in europe, and staying in the isolated united kingdom was not the best option for you. you caved at his months of pleading to move to monaco.

your legs crossed as you glanced from his pacing, anxious position. your fingers tapped incessantly at the piece of paper before you, pre-addressed envelope sitting on the coffee table.

“why not?” he questioned, putting his hands up in defense, stopping before you. he looked down at you, his heart thundering in his chest. say yes he wanted to plead. his knees felt weak. wobbly as your eyes looked back at him, determined. he loved that look. it drove him wild, enchanted by how the cogs of your brain turned.

you sighed, looking off to the side out the floor to ceiling window. “how would i even pay for all—“

“you wouldn’t drop a pound.”

you were taken back. you could never expect him to pay for that. you knew he was well off, given his hefty contract, but you are friends. friends don’t use each other for money.

“lando—“ you began to shake your head.

“no, no, don’t do that.” he stopped you, earning a glare from you. he shivered, relishing in how vindictive you could be. he hasn’t seen it many times untamed, but the fantasy had his blood roaring. “if money wasn’t a problem, would you come?”

“well—“ you attempted to come up with a defense, but nothing formed. you were at a loss of words. “what would i even wear?”

it was february when you touched down in jeddah. lando has instructed you to fly on the jet with him, side by side for the entire eight hour journey.

you were taken back by the sudden personal touches and longing looks from him. something has changed. over the past year he’s had a few girlfriends, none of them serious so he’s told you, and you believed him. your blind affliction to nod your head and whisper okay was the only way you found that you could truly protect yourself. ignorance is bliss, or whatever the poets say.

with your legs crossed the entire flight and eyes peering from the window, you never once felt lando’s eyes drilling into your face. though he was entirely enamored by your bravery, your understanding how important this was to him.

you may be the only one to truly understand his passion. as he began to understand yours.

on your lap was a research journal translated from german. your professor had sent it over to you for your leave of absence, along with ideas for your masters thesis. she was a kind woman and you appreciated all the work she has done to support you. especially translate it from german.

you tended when you felt lando spread his legs, knee bumping into your calf. but you didn’t shy away.

“what’re you reading?”

“do you really want to know?”

he didn’t hesitate. “why wouldn’t i?”

your chest tightened at his soft tone. you’d never get used to that, would you? when you were in such close proximity with him, he would become so gentle, caring. not that he wasn’t in public spaces but… what was the word you were looking for?

intimate

“after your season i fly to germany to finalize my thesis. i’m still struggling on a topic, but…” you flip back a few pages in the book which was messily annotated and sticky-noted. you stopped on the event horizon section. “this one caught my eye. always fascinated me.”

lando scanned the page. it wasn’t the words he was reading, but the marks you left behind. messily written notes in the margins, smeared ink, bright orange notes with rather… rushed drawings of a black hole, surrounded by streams of… “what is it?”

your eyes glimmered. lando wanted to take a picture of you then, turning from your corner of the window and towards him. your palms smacked the page as you excitedly explained the phenomenon in far too great detail for lando to really pay attention, but he was so engrossed in your intellect and pure passion that slipped past your lips. your sweet, honeyed lips—

“lando?”

“hmm?”

“what will it be like?”

“what?”

“all of it.” your fingers tended around the journal creasing the pages unbeknownst to you.

lando reached over, not thinking rationally, and grabbed your hands. they were colder than his. he was always warm. so warm. a light gasp left your lips when you looked up at him.

“i’ll give you some pointers. ready?”

you nodded.

────────────

he kept a hand on you at all times. unhindered by any sudden movement, feigning to latch at the small divot of your back. you’d grow used to its presence as you scaled the tarmac, hopped into the passenger seat of the mclaren— opened by him— and glanced down at how his hand made claim to the skin of your thigh the entire drive.

he’s stressed. you’d tell yourself, not thinking anything more of it. because what else could it be?

────────────

the entire time you kept modesty in mind. you had pestered lando about your choice of attire, thinking specifically about the nature of your outfits.

“i don’t want to be disrespectful.” you said sternly, looking between the stylist lando paid to dress you, and him. it was your debut at lando’s side and you were determined to make the right choice. you were never usually like this— cold and bullheaded, but he was growing to…enjoy it more than he should.

you stood there tapping your foot with your arms crossed. you shrugged towards the outfits she provided you. you shook your head at a few and decided to ask.

“what about orange?”

orange.

lando thought about falling to his knees for you right then and there. to see you sporting his team colors for him was a dream that he would never want to wake from.

the stylist nodded, raking through the options. there was one that was made of silk, a dress that covered you to the ankles, to the forearms. an abaya it was called. if you were going to be representing lando, which he mentioned on the plane, then you were going to do it right.

and you’ll be damned before you’re ever wrong.

────────────

you certainly underestimated the crowds.

with the season opening, you and lando had been swarmed upon your arrival. he warned you of this, but to which the gravity of it you greatly underestimated.

your fists bawled at the material of the dress, clenching with unspoken anxiety. you were never much of a public person, but you’d be willing to find out if that were true or not today.

“hey,” lando nudged your shoulder. you glanced at him with a light smile. “you got this.”

that comfort was enough alone to let you be pulled from the car. lando opened the door for you. immediately swarmed by flashing cameras and the devilish heat of the middle eastern sun.

questions were thrown at him about you, who you were, and you’d let him do all the talking.

you straightened your posture, gripped the handbag tightly, and kept a soft smile to your features.

lando would stop on occasion to sign some memorabilia, which was a perfect time for you to observe. he was kind with the people who were such loyal fans to him. dressed in the mclaren jerseys, hats, he’d sign anything that was thrown his way. even some arms were thrown in his direction.

it was endearing for you. watching him thrive in his element. your heart warmed at the sight. a new found affection blossoming in the pit of your stomach.

a thump was heard on the ground before you. you turned, glancing back at lando who kept moving forward. it was a mclaren hat dropped by a teenage girl wrapped in a similar garment to yourself. you traipsed over, crouching down to pick it up, and hand it back to her.

“here,” you offered in a sweet tone. your smile was brighter. the girl was clearly elated, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“are you and lando dating?” came a question from the girl beside her. she was earned a slap to the shoulder, being called rude.

you laughed lightly, shaking your head. “no, no, friends from home is all.”

you saw a phone held up, recording the interaction. but it didn’t scare you. why would it?

“do you want to wrap your hijab? it’ll fly loose in the wind…” the girl asked nervously, placing the mclaren hat on her covered head. you were taken back for a moment, glancing down at the rather lazy job of the stylist, and took intent note that it was rather windy today. it would be hard for you to maintain it by yourself.

“you would do that for me?” you took a step closer to the barricade, which had lando snapping his head over his shoulder to wonder where you went.

he ogled, watching as a young girl began tying the ends of the scarf in an intricate, skilled manner around your collarbones, your neck. his eyes were caught on the smile you graced, the laugh that left your lips. it was such a delicious sound, intoxicating, one that he wished to drown in. if that were his fate, he’d gladly accept it.

his staring was noticed, fans beginning to call his name louder. he swallowed, hands flexing at his side before he signed a few more hats and posters.

��───────────

what you didn’t expect was the way that lando looked in his fire guard suit. the black emblems that contrasted his tan skin, bolstered the tone of his muscles. there was barely anything left up for the imagination as you brought the tip of your finger to your mouth, crossing your legs on the orange couch. you couldn’t seem to sit still.

“you alright?” he asked out of concern, but you didn’t miss the slight curve of his mouth. he knew what you were thinking. you were always so responsive to him, so good, even when there were no words transpired.

“peachy!” you confirmed, sitting back against the couch, your leg bouncing as you tried not to let your eyes meddle on the muscles of his neck, the veins in his hands, the bracelets that dangled from his wrists.

he gave you a look of doubt before his teammate walked in with a girl at his side. oscar, you remembered. you had met before briefly at a press conference you attended in monaco. the girl beside him was his girlfriend— she was entirely too sweet and studied a similar focus as you did.

the two mclaren drivers patted each other on the back, while the woman approached you. she sat beside you with a tick of picking at her fingernails.

your hand found its way on top of hers. “first time, too?”

she nodded and introduced herself formally. you did the same. you laced your fingers with hers, stopping the habit from ruining her lovely nailbeds.

lando watched the interaction from over oscar’s shoulder, a cheeky smile etching onto his face. oscar caught wind of his inattention, and glanced over his own shoulder briefly.

he turned back to lando with a toothy grin. “i’ve been trying to get her to stop that habit.”

because within the matter of minutes you were both talking, not once did his girlfriend raise her fingers to her mouth.

────────────

you pulled and fixed at the collar of his race suit. lando sucked in a low, tight breath. you missed the sound, focused on making sure he looks presentable for the national anthem. it would be any minute he’d climb into the car to do a practice lap.

when you were satisfied with the result, you dusted off the top of his head and was going to let your hand fall to your side. but there was a stain of soot on his chin.

without thinking twice, you grabbed his chin between your fingers. his eyes went wide at the action. his fists clenched at his side, body rigid with the feeling of your unexpected touch.

you licked your thumb before wiping it away, his stubble rough against your fingers. his head crooned visibly into the shape of your hand. the warmth from his cheek getting slightly hotter. heat rushed to your own face, flushing you in your orange dress.

whatever moment was transpiring between the two of you, you didn’t want it to end. neither did he. his breathing softened, but his heart was pounding. your thumb swirled over his cheek once before you gripped him tighter.

“you got this, lan.”

there was the first time you graced him with that nickname. the rest was history for him, knowing that he was a dead man walking at your side. if you weren’t going to be his, he would ruin you. such sickening thoughts had him mulling over what you meant to him. you made time out of your busy schedule for him, and so did he. you were there to answer his calls. he was there to be at your beckon and call. he would wreck his entire career if it meant your undivided attention.

he would pivot, skid, take more reckless actions on the track if it meant having your hands on him. your eyes. your love. he wanted it all with you, he learned, from that first weekend in jeddah. with your communally wrapped headscarf, caring nature, your determination… he wanted it to be his. he wanted you to flourish with him. he wanted to be the reason you blossom.

with your unwavering strength at his side, he could conquer the world. fuck the championship, he wanted it all to be with you. maddening thoughts would consume him day and night after that first weekend, knowing there was only more to come throughout the season. he could only imagine how these months would fare, but he didn’t bide into fantasies. he would expect the unexpected and let you consume him entirely.

────────────

miami was everything you thought it to be. bustling with life, parties, music. it was a stark contrast to what your life at university looked like— though you didn’t mind the occasional outing, of course, especially when lando was at your side.

he was a beam of light crafted by the gods of the sun, brightening every room he stepped in. he was utterly magnetic, drawing others around him, letting them have a joyous laugh. it made you giddy, proud, that he could hold himself so well in the mediocrity of the crowds. while you etched yourself at his side, clamoring for his shadow, he held you tightly at every opportunity.

his hand at your back, clutching for dear life. warm and soothing, you’d lean into him, clutching the hem of his black mclaren shirt.

it had been a friday night. his free practices had been stellar as you watched eagerly from the mclaren paddock. you’d earned a status of earning a headset, your consistent attendance rivaling tidal waves in the media. you always told yourself not to look, not to peek, but you couldn’t help it.

accounts were created in your honor. in your fan name. the mclaren fans loved you, and you loved them. the video of your first appearance at the paddock had gone viral within the community. your sensibility for adhering to culture norms gained you rapport. though you didn’t know why— why wouldn’t you dress appropriately? it grudged you how low the media could stoop, but you were honored nonetheless to gain such positive attention.

of course there were the negatives. some were born to hate and you could live with that. many thought you were using lando for his money, just another stupid girl who didn’t deserve to be at these races. you kept yourself modest from the media with a private account, similar to charles girlfriend, and found that it was better to remain a mystery to those who weren’t a part of your life. you owed them nothing.

though you never breathed these negatives to lando. he would be furious and absolutely say something in public. the last thing you wanted was for him to fight your own battles, yet you thought this nothing to be more of a playground spat. you could handle it; lando doesn’t call you sting for no reason.

on the bright side, you had a steady, growing relationship with oscar’s girlfriend, and even considered each other to be best friends.

though lando would disagree ardently, reminding you that he was always first, no matter the circumstance. he’d whine like a child and pout. how could you resist that face? even when you would playfully hold up four fingers and raise your brows, his number four, contrary to one, he’d scoff and laugh, your ability to see through him was astonishing.

at the club tonight there were bottles and bottles of champagne being opened and passed around in the driver's honor. in your time there you had grown close to all drivers, except a few give or take. but while you carved relationships with the boys, it was the women you sought refuge in.

charles' girlfriend, a tanned brunette sweetheart, would bake for you. in return you would host wine nights with the other women. you’d become accompanied with her new furry companion, little leo leclerc, and you fell in love with him instantly. his little licks of appreciation, his tiny wagging tail. gosh, you loved the pup.

carlos’ partner, rebecca, had intimidated you at the beginning. she was tall, fierce, blue eyes unwavering with confidence as she spoke of deep experience throughout her years in the paddock. it took her longer to adjust to your presence, feeling doubtful of your friendship with the british driver, but changed her mind when she saw you dehumidifying lando’s race suit that hung in the tents in japan’s humid weather.

no one stood around you whilst you did that. no one asked you to. you did it because it was ruthlessly hot and you didn’t want lando to contract a heatstroke.

lily held a place in your heart that none of these girls could truly replace. she was your rock from the first race. you both learned together, wrought each other of the nail biting habits, and laughed amongst the radio calls between the pair of drivers.

the rap music thundered the floor you stood on. heels tall and encompassing, you’d admit plainly you got used to the treatment lando awarded you. nothing but the best, he told you one evening under the moonlight. the words were imprinted in your mind.

alexandra, charles’ sweetheart, called your name.

lando’s grip tensed at your back. you could feel it. you glanced at him, then to alexandra.

“come dance~!” she swayed, floreale spritz in her hand. she egged you forward with her hand, and you loosened yourself from lando’s side.

you had no obligation to stay by him. it’s not like you were dating.

though many would disagree with that.

you mumbled something incomprehensible to lando. he bent his head down towards your mouth, angling his ear to hear your voice.

“will i see you on the dance floor tonight, mr. norris?” you teased, body warm from the cocktail you downed. his head turned, a signature smirk daunting his face.

“want me to?” he said, bringing his lips dangerously close to your ear. you shivered, his breath hot and wet as it graced the curves of your cheeks.

“only if his highness can make time,” you looked up at him through your weary, drunken eyes. something shifted, then, as you stared up at his green eyes. it was dark in the club, but not as dark as his stare. it intimidated you, but not nearly as much as it intrigued you.

“always make time for you baby,” he said, tone playful and airy but it was more than that for you. baby. he was just drunk, wasn’t he? he didn’t know what he was talking about. didn’t know he was talking to you. don’t let it get to your head. “just tell me when. think charles is dying to dance.”

you looked over your shoulder to see charles being teased by sweet alexandra as she shook her head, pointing at you. this was a girls dance, that told you.

before you turned, your hand cupped lando’s neck. he grumbled; you felt it through your palm. it was a nonverbal okay. you spun, threading yourself out of lando’s grasp. he let his hand linger for as long as he could before you slipped away, the imprint of his hand leaving you bare and cold.

it was quickly replaced by the rambunctious action on the dance floor. lit up with multicolored tiles, alexandra grabbed your hand and raised them above your heads, swaying to the heat of the music.

she was a natural beauty. no wonder charles fell in love with her.

you mimicked her dance moves to the best of your ability, hands sliding down your waist, through your scalp and over your head.

alexandra laughed and sashayed, giddy with fun and life. you did the same, unable to withstand her pulsing vibrato. you twirled her around you, she did the same. heads turned at your giggles, a few grunts of laughs had you looking over your shoulder.

the men of the club began to swarm. but in the moment, you didn’t care. let them gawk if they so wish. you felt untouchable.

your body slid parallel to alexandra, hips gyrating with an orbit of its own cosmic makeup. she grabbed onto your waist pulling you close when you rocked from side to side. your hands slid up your neck, down your chest— exposed from the evening gown you chose for the evening festivities.

the swarm intensified. one man attempted to twirl in front of you and alexandra, reaching to touch your forearm, but that’s where the line was drawn.

a body pushed itself between you and the man, alexandra standing up straight behind you. you recognized him instantly— signature smell bringing you an insatiable comfort that soothed your soul.

lando stood before you, face close to yours. he didn’t look pissed off…just…cocky?

before alexandra peeled away, you tilted your head back to her shoulder. she whispered, “needy, needy, needy…”

charles whisked her away for a dance. you didn’t get to respond. there wasn’t much for you to say though, watching how happy alexandra became when charles wrapped his arms around her. you felt sour. what was this feeling?

“you didn’t ask me,” he said into your ear, bringing your attention back to him. little to your knowledge he watched as you glanced between the happy ferrari couple, your face scrunching and hand coming to cover your lips.

you gave him a quizzical look.

“to dance!” he laughed, big and goofy. but there was an edge to his tone. was he peeved? did he think that you forgot about him?

“wanted you to come get me.” you slurred, lifting your arms to throw them over his muscled shoulders. when you were met with a hard surface. your eyes bulged at just how big he’s gotten this year alone. it made you want to touch him more, explore his body behind the polo mclaren shirt.

he raised his brows at you. “yeah?”

you pursed your lips together, letting your eyes flutter. “wanted you to hunt me down, little lando.”

his hands fell to your hips, fingertips functioning your skin. his demeanor shifted. your words igniting such a vicious flame inside his heart that burned for you and you alone. you were practically fucking edging him with your words. he wished it was the other way around. how insatiable your screams could be, the little noises you’d make.

you warmed even more when his head dove into your neck, lips parting so you could feel his tongue. “‘ve already got you.”

“do you?” you challenge. lando loves a good challenge.

he tucked you against his body, saying nothing more.

“dance with me.” it wasn’t a question. but a statement.

rolling your eyes, annoyed that he didn’t answer you, you pivoted on your heel. your back against his abdomen. you’d surely regret this on the morrow, but that was a problem for then. now, you only felt sturdy as you leaned your weight into lando. he supported you with ease.

dancing with him was always the easy part. he knew how to move his body, sway his hips, and lure any girl into the trap of his toned and tanned arms. but it was never you up until now. you’d always dance with the other drivers, girls, friends, but never him. it was something far too intimate for you, but you weren’t sure how lando thought about it.

but your friends noticed.

rebecca snuck up behind alexandra, carlos at her arm.

“look at him,” she gestured to lando who was entirely smitten with your let-loose expression. his hands were tight around your hips, legs spread to cage you against him. a fortress came with the name lando norris, and you were his queen.

“entirely in love.” rebecca concluded, and alexandra agreed with a nod.

“you should talk to her.” charles suggested, clearly feeling the pain his friend was going through, yearning at a distance.

“and say what, char?” alexandra asked her partner. “do you love him like he loves you?”

“is that a bad idea?” charles retorted and was met with silence between the two girls.

“we’ll figure something out.”

against your bodice, you felt the hard imprint of his dick blistering against his jeans. but it didn’t frighten you, not like his touches used to. your tour of the grand prix’s continued your closeness amongst one another, so…

your hips continued to sway, egged on by how lando ran his arms up your waist. it felt good–his hands, the tension woven into them. he felt good.

you turned around to face him, letting your hands wrap around his neck. he looked euphoric beneath the dim lighting, rbg hues collectively making him look like he was glowing. he was, in truth, because of you. always because of you.

the two of you were making eye contact now. not just any, but you thought it was the most intense of your life. his eyes rimmed with red, exhaustion you thought, and you suddenly felt guilty for keeping him out for so long. it’s not like you weren’t tired yourself.

you raised your head to his ears. “we should go.”

he narrowed his eyes, looking disappointed that the festivities were ending so soon. “you want to?”

your head nodded. one hand came down to brush against his hand, taking it between yours. “tired.”

the alcohol had taken its course through you. head pounding with a soft thump, you clasped your hand with lando’s. he returned the same force, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. he didn’t hesitate when you said you were tired. that was that for him. he had no other reason to stay.

“just wanna say bye to them,” you said, making your way over to rebecca and alexandra. they turned to you when you had lando in tow, entirely at your whims.

“we’re meeting tomorrow?” you confirmed. both girls nodded, a shared glance between them making you feel uneasy. alexandra told you to come to ferrari’s paddock. you’d nod your head before they both raised their brows at each other again, sheepish smiles flashing in your direction.

“what?” you prodded. they smiled at you again.

“nothing. we just can’t wait for tomorrow.” rebecca soothed your concerns, though it didn’t prevail as much as you hoped.

“that was weird.” lando said into your ear when you were close to the exit.

“right?” you were glad he noticed. he always noticed these things. too observant for his own good.

before you stepped foot out of the club, you turned back when you felt a thump. like a body had fallen to the ground. you stopped in your tracks.

the man that grabbed your arm laid face flat on the ground. lando looked down at you, looking smug. though he didn’t hit him.

“must’ve tripped.” he shrugged.

“should watch where he’s going.” you said, knowing that he didn’t just trip.

“guess so.”

────────────

saturday afternoon you were standing beside rebecca and alexandra when qualifying started. you wore a casually chic outfit. pants, a shirt, matching accessories. the stylist lando hired was getting to know you better. she understood what patterns you liked, your sense of aesthetic. it felt like a homecoming.

“so,” alexandra crossed her legs as all three of you sat on the couch. “what happened with lando last night?”

you were taken back. “what do you mean?”

they exchanged a look.

“you left together!” rebecca held up her hands as if pointing out the obvious. she was, really.

“so…?”

“so…! he went back to your room?” alexandra pleaded in wanting to know details. details of an extravagant night that didn’t happen.

“we share a hotel room,” they gasped. your hands thrown up in defense. “not like that! he gets two bedrooms for us.”

the girls settled, not looking entirely pleased.

“besides,” you sighed. “we’re friends. he doesn’t see me like that.”

so confident

alexandra and rebecca burst out in a laugh. “are you serious?” alexandra wondered.

you bristled, brow raised, wondering what she meant. “yes…?”

rebecca sighed your name, “have you seen the way he looks at you–?”

“or how he follows you around like a puppy.”

“how he pays for everything for you.”

“oh! how he scares any man off who tries to talk to you.”

your mind went numb. is this true? you thought lando was like that with everyone– kind, considerate, conscious. but as you sat there considering their words, just wondering how much truth was attached to them.

“are…are you sure?” you hesitated about finding the answer. what would that mean for you?

“absolutely.”

“one hundred percent.” they said at the same time. so this is what they wanted to talk about.

shit. maybe you were blind. it had gotten tempestuous over the course of these last few months. his growing attentiveness, his softness, his eager eyes whenever you’d make him coffee in the morning. no one makes it as good as you, he’d say.

would it be so bad that you…weren’t upset with it? you loved being friends with lando. he was always there to listen to you, support you. he cherished your time together. but what if there was a slim chance that you were wrong? that you were in over your head?

the last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed.

“what do i do?”

the ferrari girlfriends exchanged looks.

────────────

lando qualified in fifth for the miami grand prix. you thought he did absolutely wonderful. it was a close quali, he was pushing his car to its limits, but it wasn’t enough in the final stretch. a sigh left you as you were watching the tv, lily at your side.

oscar placed just below lando at sixth. “i don’t get it,” you said.

lily looked at you, confused.

“they should be faster. mathematically, i mean.”

lily was an engineering graduate. the question you brought forth had her perking up. you could see the cogs turning in her head.

“the physical body of the car offsets it.” she tapped her thumb against her elbow, arms crossed. she raised a hand to bite at her thumb, but you stopped her.

“you’re right. i don’t know–” you just had a weird feeling about this race. about lando. what rebecca and alexandra said…”lily.”

“yeah?”

“do…” you took a light breath in, suddenly intimidated by the answer you could receive. “do you think lando is in love with me?

a beat of silence.

“without a doubt.”

the mclaren plated with number four rolled into the garage. lando jumped out, taking off the neck guard, then his helmet. his hair had gotten longer this month. curls were starting to frame over his forehead. his stubble was more prominent. he was tanner. had his jawline always been that sharp?

he patted his engineer on the back but was looking for something. his eyes were darting all around the room, concern beginning to encompass his face. until he found you and lily, you, in the corner with her. you looked absolutely beautiful today. you had been worried about your outfit, wondering if the colors were too contrasting, or if they washed you out.

lando didn’t think there was any color that could wash out the beauty of your skin. you were too bright for that, always glowing.

when you saw him, you beamed. but it was different this time. the way he looks at you. how is he looking at me?

he took a few steps forward before you met him half way. your fingers found the zipper to his jumper, the action was new for you and lando. he welcomed it, looking down at you with a smile.

“you did amazing.” you breathed, undoing the zipper. though you couldn’t reach his eyes with your own. your hand shook against the zipper. he noticed, face falling with a slight frown.

“are you alright?”

“perfect,” you answered a bit too quickly. you still haven’t looked at him. you went to turn away, but he grabbed your elbow with a light grip.

“hey, look at me.” he pleaded, voice entirely too soft and gentle for your state right now. the way he follows you around like a puppy. but why did you blush? why did you fiddle with your fingers, bite your lip?

you looked up into those lovely pools of green. they shimmered so elegantly. your breath caught in your throat.

“what happened? did–”

“do you want dinner tonight?” you blurted, suddenly feeling stupid and small. you kept shrinking with each passing second that he didn’t answer. little did you know, he felt like the earth was flipped on his head. was he dreaming? did you ask to have dinner with him? surely you just meant with all of your friends…

“we always have dinner,” he said with a light laugh. you felt shivers creep up your arms. Goosebumps.

“me. just you and me.”

“oh.” oh? that’s all that lando could say? yes. that was it. his brain was short circuiting, unsure of what you were inferring. was there a deeper meaning to this? was he thinking too hard? you’ve gotten dinner just the two of you before. but not in a long time.

he was absolutely speechless as he looked at you, heart racing in his chest. It was just about to pop out when you opened your mouth to retract your statement and apologize.

“what’s the dress code?” he bit his lip to hold back his childlike grin.

“fancy.” you snipped back, feeling entirely too giddy that he seemed to come alive once again. you thought he would reject the idea, a part of you hoped that he did– silly, right? but you were terrified of confrontation. confrontation that rebecca and alexandra could be right.

“fancy?” he said, taking a step closer to you.

“did i stutter?” your tone was playful as you raised your brows. his tongue got caught on his teeth as he pursed his lips.

“wanted to make sure i get to see you in a dress.” the comment slipped from his lips easily, suavely. you blushed again. he noticed, surely. it was a rare occurrence that you blushed, even rarer for him to be the reason. what was this feeling in his chest? pride? pride that he could be the one to make you bashful. he felt like a king, wanting to conquer the skirts of your heart.

“maybe i’ll let you pick it out.”

lando’s face couldn’t light up any further. what did he do to award such treatment? such…such…god, he was entirely enamored with you. there was not a moment that went by that he didn’t wish you were his. he wanted this to be the norm. whatever it was. was it a date? was he supposed to hold your hand, kiss you? god, god, god, if he got to kiss you…

“deal.”

you were back in the hotel in an instant. the clock read 6pm, and you told lando no later than 7:30. both of you were in the kitchen filling up your bottles of water, cracking jokes between each other. when you were refreshed and relaxed, you spoke.

“still picking my dress?” you lead him to the door to your room, opening it for him. he followed behind you without a second thought. his eyes weary, glossy. like he was about to cry or something.

you stood at the doorway to the room. it was a chaotic mess of clothes, ruined sheets, open bottles of water. if lando noticed the state, he didn’t say anything. thank god.

but he did

lando was keen on noticing every detail of how you lived. your habits. it was the only way he could figure out how your mind worked– the spectacular thing that it was. he turned his head over his shoulder to you, gesturing towards the closet. you nodded.

he opened the door to the closet, dresses hanging by the dozens. damn, the stylist really put her money’s worth, didn’t she? rather his money, but if it meant for you to look jaw-droppingly stunning, who was he to complain?

the british driver ran his fingers through the numerous dresses before him. different combinations of cotton, silk, satin. they all felt different at his fingertips, yet you would always be sweet to him. but something else caught his attention–

a lace bodice piece, lingerie, that hung low from a hanger. he waited a beat. another. he pulled it with both his hands, showing you the hanger with a curious, raised brow.

you flushed.

never in your life did you run as fast as you just had. you tried to snatch the hanger from him, but he held it high above your head. he was laughing.

“lando!” you screeched, trying to climb up his body to reach it. it only incited a more intense laugh from him. he hummed.

“what’s this for, then? hmm?”

“i–” you stuttered, not really being able to know what to say. “she gave it to me!” the stylist.

his laugh quieted. “did she?”

“yes! if, you know, i dunno–” you rubbed your arms together anxiously. “if i ever met a guy. or something. it was stupid!”

you tried to get it back from him. he didn’t relent. you stomped your foot.

“lan, please…” you whispered, looking up at him with his unreadable stare. lando was always the type to know how he felt through his eyes, but now…you didn’t know what you were looking at.

“did you?”

“did i what?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“meet a guy?”

you looked away, embarrassed. “no. not like i was trying, though.”

he relaxed, noticeably.

keeping all these guys away from you…

“it was just a fun idea. now will you pick something? else i’ll change my mind.” you threaten him. he hung the lingerie piece back up, surrendering instantly.

you headed to the on-suite bathroom, starting to get ready for your night out. though his tone echoed in your mind– “did you?” – he sounded…deflated. bested, by some indomitable force. you had a growing epiphany that the ferrari girls were right, and you were just too damn scared to admit that such a beautiful man could be interested in you of all people.

lando knocked on the door frame, watching as you finished up your look. you glanced at him through the mirror, then turning to see the dress he held. it was a long, black dress with lace flowers embroidered into it. it even had sleeves, lace ones, that could keep you warm with the miami breeze. it got rather chilly when the sun went down.

his choice was rather impressive. dare you say that you liked it. you grabbed the fabric piece from him, taking it off the hanger and leaving it on the counter. it was beautiful– must’ve cost a fucking fortune– breathtaking, though.

did you even deserve to wear something so elegant?

“gimme a sec,” you said, shooing him out of the bathroom before you changed. the dress slipped on with ease, much to your shock. but its downside–the zipper. you tried for about three seconds to get it up in the back, but you gave up.

you opened the door.

“lan?” you called for him, voice whimpering for his attention. he shifted from your bed, scrolling on his phone. he looked up immediately, eyes widening at the site before him. you were absolutely breathtaking. his hands twitched, desperate to touch you.

and you weren’t opposed, you thought, given your insolence towards any patience you had for the zipper. ‘test the waters,’ is what alexandra had said to you when you asked her for advice. ‘see how he reacts.’ rebecca followed up.

testing the waters

that’s what you were doing

you turned your back to him, shimmying out of the bathroom. “zip me?”

“yeah. yeah of course.” he launched to his feet. the dress was so low down the curve of your back. he wanted to trace your spine with his fingers. he was gentle with his touch, warm to the skin. you absentmindedly leaned into him, back arching.

he zipped the piece with ease, letting his fingers trace the back of your neck. you shivered, goosebumps crawling up your shoulders. he felt them, quickly glancing at the side of your face to gauge your reaction. was he going crazy? your body was so receptive to him. it was addictive.

you pulled away. his hands felt empty, your back felt cold.

“thanks,” you smiled bashfully, unable to look him in the eyes. so fucking cute, he thought. “go get dressed, will you? i’m getting hungry.”

lando bolted from the room, and you managed a short laugh to yourself. while you were alone, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. you still felt entirely undeserving of such a gown.

you slipped on your shining black heels and had to adjust to their feeling. you were never good at walking in them, but this tour was a playground for you to learn how. you wanted to learn. you felt badass walking around like you had pointy claws.

in your hands was a matching leather clutch, simple and handheld. you waited patiently for lando, though it took him barely no time at all to look so put together.

you heard the clink of his loafers before he made himself known. turning around, you got a good look at the man you’ve gotten to know over these past few months.

it was chilling the way your body electrified. heat pooled in your lower belly, tingling with lust. he was dressed in a black dress shirt, few buttons undone revealing his chains, with a black jacket and taupe pants. his loafers were black with a silver buckle at the center of each shoe.

he was fiddling with the cufflinks at his jacket when he noticed you gawking at the shape of his abdomen, to his exposed neck. he didn’t want to say a word, afraid that it’d break your moment of admiration. that you would never look at him in such a…virtuous manner.

but he could never control his tongue.

“my eyes are up here, darling.” you snapped your head up, blushing. you crossed your legs over each other, leaning against the kitchen isle.

darling

you were caught red handed. there’s no point in pretending. your blood burned hot in your veins, the petname coming as second nature from his lips. you wanted to hear it again.

“didn’t know you cleaned up so well.” you pushed off of the isle with ease, waiting for him to join your side. “used to all the sweat and pajamas.”

he tsked at you, sheepish at your witty remarks. he hoped that no matter what it would always be like this; you and him, full of banter and fun.

“and you look…agreeable.” his smile was bright, mischievous. you pushed his arm away as he came to rest his hand on your lower back. “kidding!”

he lowered his voice and connected your eyes with his. “you’re breathtaking.”

and for the first time, you believed him.

────────────

the restaurant he chose was more than you could imagine. with high ceilings, a valet, lights in the shape of mystical orbs strung together on the walls. the floors were made of marble, the tiling on the sidings were matte black.

but lando didn’t give a fuck about the decorations. he was staring at you. you in your beautiful dress, carrying yourself so elegantly. you were born to fit into this life, whether or not you believe you deserve it. he would do anything to prove that you did. that you were worthy of every dime he spent.

“right this way, madam.” the waiter ushered you, but you didn’t move until you held out your hand for lando to grab. you’ve never asked him to sober.

he didn’t hesitate, never did, and latched onto your hand with a warming grip. you tugged him along through the restaurant while he kept getting distracted from you and how you walked so well in those high heeled shoes. he remembers a time when you couldn’t. and look at you now.

the waiter seated you at your two person table. lando pulled out the chair for you. you smiled appreciatively.

“aren’t you the gentleman.” you acknowledged his kindness, his face brightening as he seated himself with ease. he pulled into the table, leaning over it. you did the same, eager to meet his face with a bashful smile and your hands rubbing together.

lando looked nervous, but most of all happy. he is happy. to be sitting here with you, in your presence, and most of all, you wanted to be here with him. he didn’t miss how you leaned towards him, your legs crossing over one another as the point of one of your heels grazed his knee.

“so tell me,” he picked up his water glass, taking a sip. you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed, the water running through him. you gulped. “why dinner?”

your hand touched the back of your neck. “‘m not allowed to want to spend time with you?”

“didn’t say that, did i?” he placed the glass down. “all this, i mean–” he gestured to your dress, his shirt, the restaurant. “you tryin’ to tell me something, darling?”

one of your fingers ran over your lip. darling. god, it sounded so good coming from him. it put you in such a state of heaven, feeling entirely weightless in his presence. you were staring at him speechless, before you heard a clatter of glass behind you. you were ripped from the safety of your trance.

“maybe,” you muttered, looking away for him briefly before attempting to switch the topic. “anyways-”

“what was that?” he said languidly, the softness of his tone unrecognizable. his eyes were blown wide, taking in every subtle movement that you made. you felt like you were under a microscope being analyzed by his prerogative. you felt stripped bare– but that wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? no. no it wasn’t. the thought had you blushing. what weren’t you blushing about today?

“the race,” you continued on, disregarding his questioning. “are you nervous?”

he leaned back in his chair in defeat. fine, if she wanted to play it that way. he knew exactly what you said. but he wanted to hear it again. he will hear it again if it is the last thing he ever hears. you said “maybe” and didn’t brush him off with a scoff. his advances towards you had always been playful and light, but you never indulged him so…earnestly. he was caught off guard. in fact, he’s been caught off guard…a lot these past few days. something has shifted–

but what?

“am i supposed to be?” he wondered. you never really asked him those kinds of things. he always had your full reassurance.

“no. it’ll be just like any other, won’t it?” you felt like you were talking out of your fucking ass. you, all of a sudden, didn’t know how to talk to your best friend. it was gibberish, dry, god, how the fuck did he put up with you beforehand?

you began fidgeting with your fingers. his eyes latched on the movement.

“are you nervous?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to look at him. you didn’t know he leaned in again until you felt his knees bump with yours. you jumped, but sunk into his light touch.

“i dunno– no? no, why would i be nervous?” you continued fidgeting. “it’s just…it’s all so dangerous, isn’t it? i’ve done the math before. at your speed if–”

“hey.” he cut you off, grabbing both your hands. “hey.” he breathed, looking at you with his widened, sparkling green eyes. your hands were sweaty against his, a byproduct of your anxiety, but he didn’t seem to care when he brought them to his lips, gracing you with a sweet kiss on the top of your palms.

your breath hitched in your throat.

“didn’t know that you worried about me so much.” he gave you a light laugh, his eyes crinkling with a smile. he bit his lip.

“what? of course i do,” you looked at him in disbelief, your hands still held in his. “i mean– why wouldn’t i? we’re friends, aren’t we?”

‘aren’t we?’ was branded into lando’s heart. he swallowed, pulling back and letting your hands fall to the table. “‘course we are.”

“you are both such a beautiful couple.” your waiter approached. you bristled, glanced quickly to lando, and an idea bloomed in your head. test the waters, the girls said. “what can i get for you lovebirds?”

lando sat up straight to correct him, but you stopped him. “you are too kind,” polite smile was gracing as you ran your fingers over the menu. “what are the specials?”

lando’s jaw dropped. he shut it before the flies flew in, but he wouldn’t forget this. no amount of alcohol or fantasies could recreate that feeling. this feeling. you glanced at him while you were ordering, puckering your lips.

god, he wanted to kiss you. Ruin you. make you his.

dinner went smoothly despite a perpetuous tension lingering over the pair of you. you’ve never fiddled so much before with anything; your dress, napkin, glass. but you were still there with him, and he always knew the perfect way to make you laugh. you wanted to kiss him that night, beneath the glimmer of the moon, but you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t muster the courage to break the barrier.

but you would, in time.

on your way out of the restaurant you were keen on grabbing his hand first. you felt him tense and he covered his mouth with his free hand, surely hiding a cheeky smile.

the cameras were flashing when you came down the steps. you’d be trending on every social media platform, especially with how bright your smile was, and how tightly you gripped his hand.

────────────

race mornings were always chaotic. but you somehow managed to make it to the track at the end of the f2 race with lando at your side. In the mclaren hospitality room, you straightened his collar of the fireguard, taking a deep inhale of his subtle cologne and natural scent. you felt dizzy, struck by the desire to run your hands over his chest.

your touch lingered longer than it normally did. he noticed. what didn’t he notice?

especially after your stunt last night. he didn’t get a wink of sleep. he was up all night staring at his phone, watching the pictures light up his feed. he wasn’t embarrassed, shocked, nor ashamed. the british driver was entirely elated. with your graceful composure, assuredness in holding him at your side.

he scrolled through the comments, too, but there was not one negative thing he could find. spare a few comments that he had to bite his tongue on responding to, you were gaining an overwhelming amount of support from his fans.

your fans.

there were accounts made in your honor. outfit accounts, update accounts, people with your face as their profile picture. he scrolled through every one of them. he was maddeningly obsessed.

but what changed? why were you acting this way? not that he was upset by this change…but your inability to tell him…tell him what was going on frightened him. he felt anxious.

“what’s going on with you?” he brought his face closer to yours, lowering his voice so no one else could hear the both of you.

“nothing. it’s nothing.” your tone was hastened, weary.

“it doesn’t sound like–”

“we’re ready for you, lando.” his engineer interrupted the two of you with a polite smile.

the british driver sighed.

you placed your hands on his chest. “i’m fine.” though it did little to soothe his woes.

he looked at you weary eyed, brows turnt upward with concern. he didn’t believe you.

“i just…” your hand trailed up his neck, thumb caressing his bottom lip. he stayed perfectly still beneath your fingertips. “really want you to win.”

you placed a soft kiss on his opposite cheek.

“you got this, lan.”

he kissed your thumb that was on his lips and said nothing else before he jumped into the mclaren.

────────────

you were on absolute edge the entire race. it was an uphill battle. you’ve never been seen so anxious with your headset on, tapping your feet anxiously against the concrete. arms crossed over your chest, it was down to the last few laps. lando had been hard running in first.

first. lando was in first.

you could feel this in your blood. he was born for this.

and when he crossed that fucking finish line, you’ve never felt so much joy in your entire life.

he yipped and punched his fist in the air, his screams were pure music to your ears.

his engineers came to pat you on the back, gauging your all too excited reaction. lily was at your side, too, jumping and giving you a hug.

lando jumped from his parked car, ripping off his helmet and neck guard. he was on top of the fucking world when he jumped atop the crowd of mclaren workers, them holding him up with ease and chanting his name.

you stood beside lily, hand covering your mouth to stifle your sobs. you couldn’t be more proud of him than in this moment.

he caught your eye from above the crowd, watching the tears fall down your face. when he jumped off his celebratory pile, he ran over to you.

you threw your arms around his neck, launching yourself against him. he caught you, he always would, and held you tight. he would never let you go. never. your tears wet the base of his neck.

“lando…” you said into his race suit that smelled of burnt rubber and sweat. you didn’t care. this was your lando.

he pulled back, looking at you with concern. it was a characteristic look for him these past few days.

but you wanted that to go away.

you wanted nothing but his happiness. his joy. his passions. to see him on top of the world. but you wanted to be right there with him, side by side.

your lips were on his before he blinked. he was taken back, surprised, and face dripping in sweat. your hands gripped around his muscular neck, tugging him to you. you wanted more. you wanted this. this over anything. him over anything.

he returned your kiss when he was done pinching himself. your lips were entirely too sweet. luckily he had a sweet tooth.

his hand cupped the back of your head, tilting you towards him for a better, deeper angle. you moaned into him as he sucked on your bottom lip, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. you were floating, floating in the world of lando norris. you never wished to return to the ground.

but you did. the cheers around you got louder. you realized you would too if this kept up.

the new grand prix winner wasn’t finished, though, when his free hand gripped your hip. you stifled a giggle by smiling into his mouth, catching your breath. “lan,” you chuckled.

“don’t tell me this is a dream.” he had tears swelling in his eyes, lips plump from your kiss. “i might just have to–”

you cupped his cheek.

“real.” you assured him. “i’m real. this–” you brought his gloved hand to your heart. “is real.”

he bit his lip, though it did little to conceal his smile.

“drink some champagne for me.”

he kissed you once more. a telltale we aren’t done.

and you sure as hell weren’t.

────────────

“don’t understand why we’re celebrating out there,” lando gestured to the door as you were putting your heels on in a hurry. “when we could be here.” he pulled you to him, your back flushed against his chest. you leaned into him, sighing.

“because your friends want to celebrate,” you finished putting on your shoes. “me included.”

lando’s hand tightened around your waist. “you’re not my friend.”

your brows upturned when you spun around to face him. your expression was sickeningly innocent. “‘m not?” your hands landed on his chest, turning your head to the side with fluttering lashes.

“absolute minx,” lando seethed with a hearty laugh, leaning in to kiss you. your noses brushed together, his lips coming to graze yours. but you smiled and pulled away from him before he could taste your lipstick.

he made a move to pull you back to him by your elbow, but you gave him a look. “we’re going to your celebrations, lan. don’t care what you have t’say.”

he groaned, his head falling forward to your shoulder. your hands raked through his hair, down the back of his neck. he practically purred like a fucking kitten under your fingertips.

“and as far as i know,” you kissed his temple. “we’re still friends. haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend, did you?” your hands curled in his hair, pulling him to meet your eye. he bit his lip, blushing!

“you’re blushing, baby!” you cooed, reaching to squeeze one of his cheeks.

“can’t blame me,” he muttered, head darting back into the crook of your neck and leaving soft kisses down to your collarbones. “the most beautiful woman has her hands all over me…what am i supposed to do with m’self?” he chuckled and you felt his teeth against your sensitive skin. you sucked in a breath with a smile.

“ask her,” you lowered your voice, whispering into him. “i’m sure she’ll say yes.”

“would she?” his head perked up, flushed and warm from your neck.

“in every universe, lan.” your humorous tone turned serious. he gulped, adam’s apple bobbing when he felt the weight of your words. “you know that gravity is the only force that can travel through any dimension? any time, any place, it will be found.”

he was listening to you intensely, voice cracking as he spoke. “i would find you.”

your eyes widened at him.

“through any black hole, space phenomena, wormhole,” his breath fanned your cheeks. “i’ll always find you.”

you leaned in to kiss him. he met you halfway, swallowing your mouth with his. you let him push you up against the counter, your hand gripping the ledge so you didn’t tumble over. you opened your mouth and his tongue slipped in without hesitating. he explored the corners of your mouth, the shapes of your teeth, your own tongue.

your moan was deep from your chest when you felt his hand start to slip up your thigh. his pinky scathing the fabric of your thin underwear. you gasped when he ran trailed over your cunt, already wet and swollen under his touch.

"all for me, baby?" he chuckled into your neck, soothing your cunt of its tumultuous ache.

you nodded, but that wasn't enough.

"words. need words."

"fuck. yes, lan, all for you." you moaned when he flexed a finger inside of you, the sweet burn was tender to your growing coil in your belly. but things just can't go smoothly, can they?

you were brought back to earth when your phone began to ring. fuck.

you tried pushing lando off of you, but he grumbled against your lips. you smiled, but detached from him. “lan,” he shook his head, refusing to let you go. “lan, it’s probably everyone wondering where you are.”

“don’t care.”

“you should.”

“don’t.” his mind didn’t change, finger still exploring you before you shook him off.

you kissed the tip of his nose. “we won’t stay for long, okay? besides…”

there was a sheepish look on your face. “i have a boyfriend to show off.”

lando didn’t need to be told twice to get you swept off your feet and into his car.

────────────

the entire drive there his hand was on your thigh, so high that he traced the lining of your black laced underwear with his pinky. you gripped his wrist tightly, but said nothing the entire ride there.

when you pulled up, a valet man opened the door for you. you stepped out and were met with ten times the amount of flashing cameras that you were used to. you got this. with a straight posture and elegant– as elegant as you could muster– composure, you waited for lando to meet at your side.

you weren’t disappointed when you felt his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowds. shouts were sent your way, his way; “lando! lando! is this your girlfriend? are you dating? what’s her name?”

he made sure to answer only one question with your nod of approval before he climbed the steps to the nightclub.

“lando! is this your girlfriend?”

“yes,” he said with his charming nature, turning back to look at you, starstruck by your beauty. you smiled back at him, hand caressing his chest. the cameras went wild at your natural pose with each other.

inside the club was much better. with a restricted guest list of close friends and family, you were at ease. when you entered you were met with all three of your closest girlfriends. lily, rebecca, and alexandra. they squealed when they saw you, sprinting in your direction leaving their boyfriends in distress by their absence.

“congratulations, lando!” lily said upon her arrival first, then glancing to you. “and an even more congratulations is in order? are you fucking kidding me!” she said with utter glee. you leaned further into lando’s side if that was possible. he relaxed at your touch, hand loose at your hip.

“i knew it.” rebecca said with certainty.

“she really did,” alexandra confirmed.

you rolled your eyes at the pair of them.

“i’ll get us drinks, baby.” lando whispered into your ear, his nose jutting against your hair. he gave you a kiss to your head and departed from your side, meeting up with the guys, too.

“tell us everything!” alexandra jumped up and down.

“there’s not much to tell.” you shrugged, hands thrown up in defense. “i just thought about what you said. you were right. i was so, so blind.” wasted time was a fear of yours.

“we’re proud of you anyways. have you seen all the paparazzi for you?” rebecca opened her phone, scrolling endlessly through her timeline. “i fucking hate you. you look perfect in every one of them.”

“oh please,” you brushed her off. “have you looked in a mirror, becca?”

it was a stellar night. you found yourself on the dance floor shortly after with your favorite drink in your hand, per lando’s stellar memory of your order.

without another moment longer, your hips were moving over lando’s on the dance floor, his hands loose on your hips as he ran them up and down your body. you decided you weren’t going to have more than one drink tonight, preferring to remember every moment of this celebration.

the song was a bumping rap tune, easy to follow along with your suave moves. “suave,” you were just letting loose against your now boyfriend. the word was still foreign to you, but you felt increasingly giddy at the mention.

lando, though? he was a changed man. not only did your kiss bring him ultimate luck before his race, he now has you at his side. he’ll do anything to keep you there. fuck, how did he get so lucky? he had a feeling something was going on, but never would he think it would be your lips on his after his race. he can still taste your tears.

you cried for him the entire time he was up on that podium, absolutely relishing in the national anthem played in his honor. and he could only keep his eyes on you. your glittering, magnificent eyes that sparkled beneath the miami sun. they sparkled for him, only him, on this marvelous day.

and he would let everyone know that you shined for him. that you were his. while he may have won his first race, you were better than any trophy he could ever get.

eventually, everyone raised their glasses for lando and cheer’s to his victory. you held your glass high, downing the entire thing. he did the same, only keeping to a few so he could see you as clear as day. he felt the same way…he never wanted to forget a moment with you.

you faced him now, body still swaying to the music. with your chest brushing against his, you felt a growing heat over your neck. as the night went on, the sweatier lando became. the more his tanned skin glowed beneath the hue of the lights. the more his cologne pumped through your nose. it was impossible to not be intoxicated by him, drunk on his affection.

with your hands gripping his neck, you looked up to him through your hooded eyes, a look that he wished he could take a fucking picture of.

“what?” he said into your ear.

you only shifted closer into him if that was possible.

“need me, baby?” he chuckled low and wicked. you shifted on your feet, tightening your legs together. you almost did before lando stuck his leg out, having you tightened around him.

you nodded rapidly into his neck, clutching the fabric of his shirt. it was an appropriate time to leave, too, given that many have already bid their goodbyes. lando was only sticking around for you, after all. “please,” you whimpered into his ear, mouth wetting the skin beneath his chin.

“fuck.” he cursed, maneuvering your body towards the exit with ease. his hands felt so good around you. you wanted them everywhere all the time.

you bid your farewells to your friends with haste, feeling a slight guilt for leaving so…suddenly.

but lando didn’t.

the drive back to the hotel took no time at all, lando blowing through every fucking stop sign and light that came in his direction. his hand was firm on your thigh this time, white knuckling the steering wheel. you stared at him, his side profile. he was too irresistible like this–needy, urgent– so you leaned over to kiss the side of his face, down his neck with sensual, puckering kisses.

he leaned his head back, giving you access to his thick neck. you had no idea how he kept focus on the road, but you had full faith in him to get back unscathed.

“i know, baby,” he sighed, low and deep. “almost there.”

pulling into the valet, you opened the door yourself. lando threw the keys up in the air to the doorman and proceeded to rush you through the lobby. you couldn’t contain your giggles when he kept pressing the elevator button over and over.

“that doesn’t make it any faster, you know.” you commented, your own foot tapping against the cool marble of the ground.

“i’ll show you fast, baby, watch your mouth.” chills ran up your spine. your legs clenched together again and you couldn’t meet his eye.

bastard.

when the elevator opened, you shuffled inside and he had you against the wall before you could catch your breath. his lips attacked yours, moving down to your jawline, peppering your neck with slower, intense kisses. you moaned, biting your lip to conceal the sound the best you could.

he moved to your chest, your collarbones being the first to be victim of his biting kiss. he would bruise the skin atop your breasts, marks for only him to gawk at. it looks like you won’t be getting any miami sun any time soon. or ever if his swirling tuck keeps suckling against your skin.

“fuck, lan.” you whimpered, looking down at him below you, hands cupping his neck in place. he would happily be imprisoned by you like this. he would never go hungry.

he groaned at your breathless response, adhering heavily to his actions as he didn’t miss an inch of your skin with his sloppy kisses. you pulled at the curly hair of his scalp that had his eyes rolling back into his head. you watched the delectable sight, your panties becoming increasingly damp as the seconds rolled by.

the doors to your floor opened. lando didn’t move for a moment. you pulled his head back from his devouring of your skin. “you’re fucking me in your bed or not at all.”

“you’re the death of me, darling.”

you were swept across the floors of your hotel, lando fumbling with the key to the room anxiously. you kissed up his neck in anticipation until the door clicked open and you were practically tossed inside. he slammed the door shut, throwing the “do not disturb” sign on the handle. not a soul would bust in on the two of you.

you were ripping off your heels and throwing them across the floor before you were latched onto him again. but it didn’t last long until you wanted more. you weren’t going to fuck him in this kitchen, either. you were going to do it right, despite your hazy mind and actions.

lando chased after you like a mad man. you squealed running through the hotel room on your tip toes until you burst open the door to his place. the bed sheets were ruffled, clothes on the floor, and it smelled like him. you bit back a moan at the sight, lando’s chest meet your back.

his lips were back on your neck, your shoulders. he tore through the fabric of your dress, undoing the zipper with methodical fingers. the gown fell to the floor, leaving your chest bare and your panties thin and otherworldly.

you were ethereal.

there wasn’t an ounce of shame inside of you when you spun around to face him. his hands were running up and down your bare skin, feeling how soft you were. a cuss fell verbosely from his lips, like honey.

you backed away from him with an enticing look, swaying your hips before you fell backward on his bed, hands threading over your head. a palm came down to trace down your sternum, your lower belly, the hem of your dampened panties.

lando watched you through his darkened eyes, almost black with desire. black holes. they sucked up the light around them, absorbing it without second thought. you wanted nothing more than to be absorbed by him. wholly.

he stalked towards you like a hunter, back straight with his lip caught between his teeth. he wanted to ravage you right here– tear the underwear from your hips, fuck you into another dimension, but he would resist. all he wanted was to savor this moment, this vision, of you laying out before him, bare and vulnerable. all for him. you trusted him with your intimacy, your touches. he’d do nothing more to keep you like this.

the british driver stood over you, your legs coming to squeeze together until his knee shoved its way through. your thighs dangled over the edge of the bed, burning with the scorching heat of your core.

one of his fingers came down to run over your chest, your nipples, your abdomen. you squirmed at his teasing touch, feeling everything and absolutely nothing at once. you mewled deep within your throat, begging for more.

he stopped at the band of your underwear, latching the same finger beneath it and drawing his hand back. the fabric peeled away with ease, your cunt glistening at his will. he noticed, of course, nostrils flaring with a tense angst of lust. no woman had looked as beautifully sinful as you have. you were a blessing and a curse– the most angelic devil he’s ever met.

“beautiful,” he cooed, trailing two fingers over the crease of your thighs, over the lips of your pussy. you whined again, shifting your hips to get him to touch you where you needed him. badly. he tsked, at your impatience.

it took him all of a second to launch atop of you, his turn to cage you in with his toned arms. you watched as his veins pulsed, blood running viciously hot through his body. it had you glancing down at the outline of his cock through his pants, the indent firm and mesmerizing.

you salivated, a string of drool leaking from your mouth. he wiped it away with his thumb and a chuckle, looking at you from his elevated position above you. “soon, sweet girl.”

that was enough for you right now. his lips attached to your chest once more, spots already swollen and bruising with his previous attack. he moved to your breasts, cupping them in his palms, kneading the flesh. it felt heavenly to be beneath him like this– you never thought you could be so vulnerable with a man like this before.

the british driver’s mouth moved to your opposing nipple, latching onto it with his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. you whined, mouth opening for a loud gasp at the curdling sensation. you felt that feeling in your lower belly, a white hot coil that was desperate to snap.

you were so soft beneath his touch. he could mold you, bruise you for his own gawking at a later date. and you wanted him to. you were his and he was yours. nothing could change that now.

he moved to the other breast, not daring to neglect any part of you. it was euphoric how delectable this was. you’ve never been touched so intimately. no one has cared this much about your pleasure. but to lando, it was everything.

his gospel was on your pleasures.

“lan, lan please,” you whimpered, squirming beneath him when he wasn’t between your thighs yet. “need you so bad.”

“i know baby,” he said into the skin of your belly. you felt his smirk. he kept trailing down and down. “so pretty,” he sighed, coming face to face with your folds, swollen and beating for his touch.

you clenched around nothing, and the desperation has never been so poignant.

and then his tongue was on you, spreading you wide. you gasped, so responsive to his touch, and grappled onto the curly strands of his hair. he was deliberate with his touches, fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs. his tongue drilled into you, curling upward that had you biting back your moans. despite your efforts, it was a failure. you were slack jawed and squirming beneath him. his grip tightened around your thighs in response, surely bruising the skin.

he tongued every corner of your pussy, swiping over your clit once that had you jolting upward. he memorized the spot, stimulating you to the point where the coil began to itch to snap.

there was no hope for you when he was getting impatient and added a finger to rub circles on your clit, his tongue continuing to thrust in and out of you. pleasure would build and build, rising to an ultimate bliss when he found that sparkler inside of you.

at the angle he caressed with his tongue, you bucked your hips into him further. you felt him chuckle into you, his throat vibrating with such a cocky sound. he found a spot that made you fucking tick and you were entirely at his disposal.

he abused the motion of his fingers, the assault of his tongue. you felt entirely undone by him, progressively getting tighter and tighter at his motions. “come on, baby…” he spoke into you. you couldn’t help the uncontrollable arch of your back. “you’ll be a good girl and come for me, won’t you?”

yes, yes! your mind shouted, fingers hanging onto his hair for dear life. you moaned, soaking further with his words of encouragement, eyes rolling back into your head. ‘course you needed him to talk you through it. how silly of lando with such an oversight. “so good, lan…”

“i’ve got you,” he uttered. “fuck baby, so pretty f’me. come on now,” and you needed nothing more than his sweet praise brushing past your ears to have the coil inside of you snap.

you saw stars as you came on his tongue, sweet nectar filling his mouth with a gulp. he kissed every part of you, cleaning you with his tongue. you watched, weary eyed, amazed by how hot the action was. your pussy clenched. he felt it. glancing up at you from his position on his knees.

“taste so good, sweet girl.” he cleaned up the excess from your plump folds with two fingers, bringing them towards your mouth.

you opened your mouth on cue, his eyes widening with awe. you were fucking perfect. lips latching onto his plush fingers, you sucked them clean amply. you’ve never done such an act before, but it felt…natural. his dick was painfully hard in his pants, almost cumming at the sight of your lust filled eyes.

“my perfect girl…”

you whined, sitting up on your elbows and clenching your hand to etch him closer. he listened on command, climbing to you. it was his shirt, pants, socks, shoes, everything that was on him that bothered you.

fingers coming to yank at the hem of his shirt, he swiftly understood your nonverbal wishes. he tore his shirt over his head, throwing it to the corner of the room, and you fiddled with the belt of his jeans. your fingers worked fast and anxiously, throwing the damn belt across the room with a slap. he gripped your chin with a laugh as he loomed above you.

“want you,” you demanded of him in your sweet, cracked voice. he wouldn’t make you beg this time, pulling his garments down with a swift motion. his cock sprung free and up towards the skin of his lower stomach. you flushed. precum was seeping from his tip, dripping onto your thighs. fuck, you whimpered under your breath.

he didn’t settle for a grace period to settle from your orgasm. he wasn’t nearly finished with you. his hand came to cup the side of your face, your lips finding the skin of his palm. wet kisses covered the surface. he groaned. “you got me baby. relax for me, yeah?”

you nodded eagerly, unable to speak as you wiggled your hips from side to side. he bent over and continued to kiss gingerly down your neck, his tip teasing your swollen cunt. you gasped into him, pulling him close to you. he grumbled, finding this angle inadequate. soon enough your legs were over his shoulders with one swift movement.

lando dipped down for a kiss, his lips hot and feral against your own. soon enough, you felt him clamor inside of you. the stretch was invigorating, your entire body springing to life with his beating cock. “oh my god,” your head flew back into the sheets sinking inward as he felt too heavenly to be real.

“that’s it baby,” your cunt tightened around him with those sweet words. as he progressed further, you felt yourself fall further and further into pure bliss. you’d find no such place elsewhere, only in the comfort of his arms. you knew that to be certain. “taking me so well…”

you sucked in a breath, letting out a hoarse moan when he bottomed out inside of you, walls clenching entirely too tight and he thought he’d cum right then and there. but he withheld the best he could, promising to never cum before you did. he needed to see your face when you’d finish on his cock.

“fuck…move, move lan, need you.” you whined, adjusting extremely well to his size. he didn’t even need to prod you to beg for him, you were already a willing candidate. he always knew you would. your sweet eyes, droopy and dolled up for him at the races. he’d imagined these scene over and over in his head, and never once did it disappoint when he’d fist his cock. now you were here, and your cunt was even more heavenly than he imagined.

“anything, baby.” his pace was even and controlled, but you could see that he was tense. through your bedroom eyes, you could feel the tension through his cock. you appreciate the sentiment of taking it slow, but you knew how he was.

he liked to be fast.

“more,” you moaned, his head shooting up to look at you with surprise. you cupped his cheeks, flushed face begging him. “fuck me, lan. need you so fucking bad, please, please–”

he would burn the fucking world for you. you didn’t know it at that moment, but he had never been so in love with you than he has been before. he adhered to your wishes, losing the tension in his shoulders as he began a rough pace against your cunt.

it was his only goal to make sure you felt him in every part of your body. he stretched every corner of your walls, squeezing him at every increasing thrust. he explored you fully and promised to know every inch of you.

“taking me so well,” he grunted out, hips flexing in and out of you with an egregious pace. it was to your ultimate liking to get fucked so well by him.

“lan…” you drawed out in a moan, lost in the stars of his throttling pace. “you’re so good. so fucking–” your own pleasure cut you off, squealing when he shifted only slightly and had your core clenching him tight.

he let out a greedy snicker, knowing he found a spot that made you unbelievably tick. it was his to find, and his to use. you would know no better pleasure than what he awarded you.

“oh fuck–!” you yelped as your release continued to build, the tip of the iceberg in reach. lando felt it, too, with his own stomach tightening and desperate to cum inside of you. you were a trigger for all his desires, and it would be sent off with a singular please that could leave your lips. the power you held over him and didn’t even know it…

“always gonna make you feel good, baby.” he promised you, dipping his abdomen over yours for a deeper, tighter angle. you whimpered, unable to speak. he would do it for you as he kissed over your cheeks, your jawline.

his hand came to the column of your throat. your eyes flared with an undeniable attention and intrigue. you clenched around him, and he hadn’t even applied pressure. “always.” and you fucking believed him when his fingers swiped at the sides, applying the slightest pressure of his fingers to your airway. you fell lax against the sheets, trusting him with every part of your body. no one else would feel this way for him. no one except you.

your eyes swelled with hot tears, breaking when he was firmer with his grasp, even with his hard cock beaming in and out of you.

he lavished at the sight. he never knew he was so hungry up until now, starving for your affection, your pleasures. how perfect you were could never be summarized in words alone.

“i love you,” you sputtered out, breathless and flushed hot. lando’s pace didn’t falter, but his grip around your neck loosened.

“say it again,” he demanded, face pushing up into the crevice of your neck.

“love you so much, lando,” it was a promise you made to him. to yourself. he swore against your neck, his breath hot and humid against your skin.

“come for me. come on, my love.” his words were only encouraging you towards and ultimate release, your tears hot against your cheeks. “i’ve got you, i’ve got you baby. so good for me, aren’t you?”

“yes, yes!” you whimpered, coil of lust for the british driver snapping a second time, harder, bringing an entire galaxy into your vision. you traveled through time and with lando, you found yourself grounded together in every universe. this was home.

your cunt tightened, causing his pace to get sloppy, his own release parallel to yours. you milked him dry, panting and chests heaving together.

he fell on top of you, his full weight comforting against your wet skin. he didn’t pull out yet, too exhausted to find the effort.

“did you mean it?” i love you.

“yes.”

lando became shy as he found himself brushing your nose with his. “i love you, too. have for a long time.”

a long time

“i will love you in every life time,” you said, earning you the brightest smile that the driver could muster. a lifetime.

“a lifetime…” he repeated, in a daze. “love you so much…” he said your name into your cheek, giving you a plump kiss. “infinite lifetimes would never be enough.”

you peppered his face with kisses. this was your gravity. the force that kept you grounded throughout time. if you ever got lost in the cosmic reaches, you would be able to find him. find home. find the beacon of light that he provided.

you were safe here, and so was he. and does gravity know no bounds between objects. you would be attached to one another for the rest of your living days, and even further throughout the cosmos. and that was enough for you, for now.

────────────

weeps;;

i am also open for requests <3

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lowkeyren · 4 months ago

Text

—my muse, my cure.

in which : both you and jiaoqiu are deeply concerned about each other's health but have an unconventional way of showing it.

pairing : jiaoqiu x gn!reader

wc 850, established relationship, 2.5 spoilers woops (but this isn't angst trust), also ib by an iconic line in 2.5 iykwim, art by @/Lianzi_ on x, reblogs r much appreciated!!!

how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?

being a picky eater isn't easy, especially when you have a sly fox like jiaoqiu in your kitchen.

you think you're safe when you see a simple, mouthwatering dish; but with him, there's always a catch. beneath the savoury aroma of perfectly cooked meatballs or the comforting warmth of a soup, he hides the things you avoid —finely diced peppers, a hint of spice, or icky vegetables you swore you’d never touch.

jiaoqiu doesn’t say a word, but the way his ears twitch gives him away. he watches with a subtle, knowing grin as you take a bite, waiting for you to realize what he’s done. though by the time you do notice, it’s already too late. despite your best efforts, the subtle icky flavour of green peppers have already permeated your taste buds.

“you didn’t even notice, did you?” he teases, his voice laced with mischief.

you shoot him a glare as you reluctantly finish the dish, the flavours blending together so seamlessly that you almost forget what you were trying to avoid in the first place. (seems like his culinary skills managed to win you over once again)

“that’s not very polite of you, doctor.”

jiaoqiu’s smile widens at your response. “ah, come on now,” he says, feigning a hurt expression. “it's all in good fun. besides, you know those peppers are packed with vitamins. it’s good for you.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your irritation still simmering. “well, just because your dish turned out good, don’t think i’m letting you off the hook that easily,” you say, rolling your eyes, though a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

jiaoqiu only chuckles at your response, clearly amused. “i see how it is,” his tone taking on a teasing lilt as he steps a little closer, “you best stay on your guard then, dearest.”

“how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?” the answer is quite simple. chop the peppers and mix them with minced meat to make meatballs, allowing the meat’s flavor to mask the peppers so even your fussy spouse can enjoy them.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine?

being a doctor isn't easy, especially when you’re injured and your partner is more worried about your own health than you are.

“qiu’er, i’m back!” the sound of your voice instantly draws his attention, he turns his head in your direction, the subtle rustle of sheets accompanying his movement. the bed dips slightly under your weight as you settle beside him, the warmth of your presence soothing. “here, i brought you some tea,” you murmur.

“careful, it’s hot.” you gently lift the cup to his lips, the steam rising and carrying with it the sweet, spiced scent of cinnamon —he immediately notices the strong overpowering smell right away.

ah… cinnamon? so you took his advice from years ago, but unfortunately a fox’s senses are sharper than most.

his nose scrunches slightly as the liquid gently brushes against his lips. “spiked my tea with something, dearest?” you pause, setting the cup down with a soft clink. though just as you’re about to retort, his hand reaches out, searching for you with a gentle touch. his fingers graze your arm, then find your hand, which he clasps with a tender grip.

“cinnamon is excellent for masking strong odors and is even used to conceal the scent of poison... but you wouldn’t be so cruel to me, would you?” he remarks with a playful smile, though there’s an ironic edge to his words, given his current condition.

you let out an exasperated sigh, “you wouldn’t take your medicine, qiu’er. i never thought you’d be such a stubborn doctor.”

he chuckles softly, the sound low and a little raspy. “stubborn? i prefer ‘selective.’” his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “and i chose to have you as my doctor.”

“if it means i get to be the one who takes care of you, then i’ll gladly accept that,” you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “now get some rest —doctor’s orders.” you help him settle back on the bed, careful not to accidentally press on his bandaged wounds, before gently pulling the sheets up to cover him.

you lean down to kiss the crown of his head, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing, rhythmic motion. “i’m only following your orders, baobei,” he mumbles softly, his words trailing off as he drifts into a peaceful sleep.

today the sun may blaze brightly in the sky, but its brilliance fades next to the warmth of your smile, a light that, though he may not be able to see, touches his heart more profoundly than the brightest day ever could.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine? easy. disguise it in a comforting cup of tea, masking the bitterness with cinnamon, so even he won’t notice until it’s too late. of course, your tricks never really fool him, but he lets you win anyway.

homeboy has been through so much

MASTERLIST.

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kookooluvr · 21 days ago

Text

Teach Me How To Love - Part 4

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

word count: 8.6k

warnings: it's the start of summer break woop woop! some backstory on namjoon and his fiancée, tae being jk's wingman, jk in a leather jacket, oof! tae and jihyo meet and instantly hit it off, jk and oc get a bit flirty, explicit sexual content; sex in a club bathroom, making out, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), slight exhibitionism, soft dom jk, brief oral (m. receiving), cum in da mouf, a morning handjob (m. receiving), the gang meets oc and jihyo, hana being hana, the start of mai and oc's friendship, oc gets a bit drunk, jk gives her a piggyback ride, she stays the night for the first time, lots and lots of soft feels at the end !!!

author's note: we're taking a little break from the angst with this one, lol. i'm curious to hear your thoughts ! what do we think of hana, of mai, of tae and jihyo ??? also, my girl oc is letting her guard down y'all !!!! what do we think will happen on the jeju trip 👀👀👀

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @chxiosworld @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's the last day of the spring semester for the university staff, with final exams done and dusted and students' grades already published. Jungkook and Taehyung walk side by side, making their way out to the parking lot, kissing the campus goodbye for a month.

They have plans to meet the rest of their friends at some club that opened recently. Jungkook has never really been much of a club goer, but he doesn't have to worry about work on Monday, the weather is warm, and he recently bought a nice jacket that he's been meaning to wear out. They're also meeting up to celebrate Namjoon and Mai's upcoming wedding.

Namjoon and his fiancée, Mai, have been engaged for over a year, and with their wedding rapidly approaching, they thought it would be fun to get everyone together and unwind after all the wedding planning stress. Seokjin's wife, Jisoo, will also be joining, as they finally found someone to babysit their kids for the night.

Jisoo and Seokjin met during their university days. She was in med school while he was getting his postgraduate degree in business management. Jisoo thought it would be cute to set her best friend up with Seokjin's best friend, the two instantly hitting it off. Namjoon proposed during spring last year and they plan to get married in August, which is just two months away.

"Hey, just a heads up; Hana's coming too," Taehyung says, getting his car keys from his pants pocket, wincing slightly at the look on Jungkook's face.

Hana is Jisoo's younger sister, who happens to have a rather obvious crush on Jungkook. She occasionally tags along with the group, always finding an excuse to be on Jungkook's arm all night. She is far too forward for his taste, but Jungkook would never say that to her face, so he just smiles and nods along, tolerating her when he must.

"Great," he mutters sarcastically, preparing himself for a night of pretending to listen to her go on and on about why dying her hair blonde would suit her skin's undertone.

Taehyung stops at his car and notices you walking in their direction to get to your car, the one parked right next to Jungkook's. "Hey, look who it is," he murmurs with a smirk.

Jungkook turns his head, his heart rate rising when his eyes land on you. A soft smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. "Hey."

"Hey, Jungkook," you greet, offering his friend a polite smile. Taehyung grins widely and steps closer, eager to introduce himself properly. "It's ___, right? You teach political science?"

You nod, recognising him as Jungkook’s friend. "That's right, yeah. Is it…Taehyun…?"

"Taehyung actually," he chuckles, clearly the extrovert out of the two men.

"You heading home?" Jungkook asks, turning your attention over to him.

"Yeah. You?"

"My friends are dragging me to some club tonight actually," Jungkook quips with an amused scoff, earning a surprised look from you.

"Wow. Who woulda thought the walls of a club would see Jeon Jungkook," you tease, wondering what it would be like to see him in that sort of environment.

Jungkook laughs, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Gotta start the summer off right, I guess. And it's to celebrate a friend's upcoming wedding, so..."

You nod understandingly. You keep it friendly, oblivious to just how much Taehyung already knows about the two of you.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself."

Before Jungkook can respond, Taehyung chimes in, unable to hold his tongue. "Why don't you join us?"

Jungkook looks over at Taehyung with wide eyes. He knows what his friend is trying to do. He's used to Taehyung trying to be his wingman and he appreciates it deep down inside, but the subtle glare he shoots him screams, 'Are you insane?' Taehyung simply smiles, so he looks back at you, noticing the surprise on your face at the sudden invitation. He fiddles with his keys in his hand, feeling like he's been put on the spot.

"Oh, I don't think ___ would want to-"

"Come on, it'll be fun." Taehyung turns to you, feeling confident that he can convince you to join. "You're Jungkook's friend, we'd love for you to join us. We're a lot of fun; you’ll have a good time."

You look over at Jungkook with uncertainty. He offers you a sheepish smile and a shrug, silently agreeing with Taehyung, even if he isn't as forward as his friend. He would have preferred to do things a bit more naturally, but Taehyung's way works too.

It's not necessarily that you don't want to go, but you already have plans with Jihyo tonight. Her date with Mark didn't go well, and after every bad date, she comes over to your place to have dinner and unpack everything that happened.

"I, uhh… I actually have a friend coming over for dinner later. But maybe next time-"

"You can both join us," Taehyung shrugs. He knows he probably seems really forward, but he knows Jungkook is too much of a pussy to actually go for what he wants.

You don't even have to check with Jihyo to know that she'd be more than happy to go. You know that if you reject Taehyung's offer, and then tell her about it later on, she'll just nag you about it all night, and you know she needs a night out after her train wreck of a date. So, with that in mind, you accept his invitation.

"Okay," you murmur, Taehyung's face lighting up as he looks over at Jungkook, the latter man feeling quite surprised that you actually agreed to join him and his friends. You are slightly surprised yourself, but it's a Friday evening, it's the start of summer break, and what's the harm in having some fun after such a long and stressful month.

Taehyung tells you where to meet them and what time, watching you drive off with a satisfied grin.

"Care to explain what all that was about?" Jungkook folds his arms over his chest with a raised eyebrow.

"Uhmm, you're welcome. I just got Hana off your back for the night, and you get to hang out with your girl. I just killed both of your birds with one stone," Taehyung grins, patting his friend on the back before walking to his car and getting in. "And hey, maybe her friend’s hot, so that's a bonus for me," he calls out, driving off before Jungkook can argue.

Your stilettos click against the pavement as you get out the Uber, looking up at the packed club, Jihyo reluctantly ending her conversation with the driver before shutting the door. It took absolutely zero convincing to get her to come with you. Taehyung told you to meet them at 9, but you're a bit late because Jihyo decided to wax her legs and armpits for the first time right before you had to leave.

The two of you walk through the crowded club, looking for Jungkook and his friends. The music is booming through the speakers, people are grinding on each other on the dance floor, your dress is short and sparkly, and the smell of alcohol fills your senses. You look through the crowd until you see a familiar face at the bar. Your heart starts to race in your chest at the sight of him. He's wearing a white tank top, baggy jeans and a black leather jacket, his hair styled to show off his forehead. He takes a small sip of his drink as he engages in conversation with Taehyung, and you wish his lips were on you instead of that glass.

"Is he here?" Jihyo asks over the loud music, oblivious to the heat rising in your face.

You nod, keeping your eyes on him. "Yeah. That's him over at the bar. Black leather jacket with the whiskey in his hand."

Jihyo scans the bar area, her eyes widening as they land on him. "Woah. He really is a ten," she muses, nodding in approval before her eyes flicker over to Taehyung, her mouth falling open in awe. "And that's his friend?"

"Yeah, that's Taehyung."

Jihyo scoffs. You told her Jungkook's friend is nice, you didn't tell her he's totally her type – smoking hot. "Thank God I'm wearing a push up bra."

You chuckle and make your way over with Jihyo following closely behind.

Jungkook senses your presence, his eyes landing on you as you make your way over, Taehyung's voice drowning out in the background. His eyes trail from your face down to your feet, his hands suddenly feeling a bit clammy at the sight of you in that short dress. He sets his drink down with a soft smile. "Hey. I was starting to think you wouldn't come."

"I couldn't leave you hanging," you call out over the music, Taehyung turning his head at the sound of your voice.

"___, hey!" His eyes drift over to Jihyo and his tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. She's far prettier than he expected, and his stomach does a little flip as her eyes roam over him. He quickly composes himself and decides to turn on the charm. "You must be ___'s friend," he calls out, holding his hand out to her.

"And you must be Jungkook's friend," Jihyo nods, shaking his hand. Damn, he's even better-looking up close.

"Taehyung," he smiles, holding onto her hand a little longer than necessary.

"Jihyo," she murmurs, holding eye contact.

"Can I buy you a drink, Jihyo?" Taehyung asks, tilting his head with a lazy little grin, neither one of them pulling their hand away just yet.

She looks over at you with raised eyebrows and a smile before nodding and walking off with him, making a mental note to text Mark and thank him for blowing their date.

You and Jungkook both watch them with amused smiles on your faces. "Your friend's smooth," you chuckle, watching them make their way to the other end of the bar.

Jungkook scoffs, leaning his elbows on the bar counter. "Tae's about as smooth as sandpaper."

You laugh, taking a seat next to him. "So, are you gonna offer to buy me a drink as well or...?"

He smiles over at you, his eyes sparkling under the club's dim lights. "I was getting to it...but, uhm...I don't even know your name, though..."

You look over at him with a puzzled smile before you realize what he's doing. You chuckle and roll your eyes, but decide to play along with his little role play anyway. "It's ___."

"___," he repeats in a quiet little murmur, taking your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "That's a pretty name," he grins, leaning in a bit closer. "You look so familiar. Are you, like, a model or something?"

"Shut up," you laugh, accidentally letting out a little snort. "Do you say that to every woman you meet at a club?"

"Nah," he shrugs, taking a sip of his whiskey, desperately trying to look suave. "Saved that line just for you, babygirl."

"Babygirl? Really?" You cringe, both of you bursting out into laughter.

"Yeah, I know, it felt wrong as soon as it came out of my mouth," he sighs, shaking his head.

"Let's try that again. Do you say that to every woman you meet?"

"Just you, baby." His voice is softer, more sincere. He really means it. He's not the best at flirting, but he’ll do or say anything to make you laugh or put a smile on your face.

You hum, nodding in approval, your stomach doing a little flip at the pet name. "Better."

"I try," he shrugs with a grin, his eyes trailing down to your outfit. You always look good to him, but seeing you in such a short, skimpy dress is doing some funny things to his heart...and his dick.

"You really do look gorgeous, by the way," he murmurs, his eyes slowly trailing back up to your face, his fingers itching to touch you.

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," you smile, meeting his eyes.

He scoffs, pretending to be offended. "I was expecting you to be jumping my bones already, but I guess I'll take that."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "You look very nice, okay?"

"Thanks," he mumbles, a satisfied grin settling on his face. "Now, can I buy you a drink?"

"I'd love a drink."

"Anything in mind?"

"Surprise me," you shrug.

He calls the bartender over and orders a pineapple margarita. He knows you like tropical fruit, and he didn't want to get you something that would get you hammered just yet.

The bartender makes your drink and sets it down on the counter before you, adding it to Jungkook's tab. You take a sip and hum at the delicious taste. "This is really good."

"Is it?" he smiles, leaning in closer. "Can I have a sip?"

You hold the glass out for him and watch as his lips wrap around the sugary rim, his tongue quickly peeking out to lick the sugar off his top lip.

"Wow, that is good. I should've taken one of those too."

"What about your whiskey?"

He shrugs with a faint smile. "I don't even like whiskey, I just wanted to order it to look cool."

You laugh, finding it quite amusing that someone as hot as him can be this much of a dork. The sound of your laughter makes his smile grow wider, his heart fluttering. He doesn't even seem to notice how many women would kill to be sitting with him because he's too busy staring at you with a dopey look on his face.

You take another sip of your drink, his eyes watching the way your lips move, the way your fingers hold the glass, the way your thighs look in your little dress.

"You know what they say about pineapple, right?" he murmurs with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning over to drape his arm over the back of your bar stool.

"What do they say?"

He leans in to whisper in your ear, his lips lightly brushing against your skin. "Makes your pussy taste sweeter."

Your breath hitches in your throat, almost choking on your drink. "They say that?" you ask, looking up into his eyes with flushed cheeks.

"Mm." It's like a switch has gone off, his persona completely changed. He moves his free hand down to your knee, his fingers slowly trailing up your thigh. "Maybe I should taste it and see for myself if it's true. Y'know...for science..."

You and Jungkook make a beeline for the bathroom, the dim lights concealing you from any wandering eyes. He leads you into one of the bathroom stalls, locking the door behind you. He pushes you up against the stall, his lips on yours in an instant, kissing you hungrily. His hands explore up your thighs under your dress, finally getting to touch you the way he's been wanting to since he laid his eyes on you.

He kisses and nibbles down to your neck, grinding his hips against you, his need for you growing more apparent as a bulge starts straining against his jeans.

Your hands slide up into his hair, moaning softly as he slides his tongue into your mouth.

His fingers trail up to your thong, pulling it aside to run his middle finger through your slick folds. He groans into your mouth as he feels how wet you are. You're already dripping and he's barely done anything yet. He slides his finger up to rub slow circles over your clit. "You're so hot," he mutters, nipping at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

You tilt your head back against the stall, biting your bottom lip to muffle any sounds that threaten to slip out of you. "Is it...unhygienic that I'm...letting you finger me in a club's bathroom s-stall?" You try to keep your voice stable, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Wanna stop?" he asks, chuckling as you frantically shake your head. He withdraws his hand and brings it up to his lips to suck on his middle finger, tasting your essence. "You taste better than any pineapple I've ever tasted," he hums, his eyes growing dark with desire.

Your arousal overpowers any concerns you might have had, feeling a jolt of excitement run down your spine. You watch as he slowly drops down to his knees before you, his hands disappearing under your dress to pull your thong down your legs, putting the wet string of fabric in the back pocket of his jeans.

He licks his lips at the sight of you, his hands trailing up your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. The smell of your arousal hangs heavily in the air as he lifts one of your legs and drapes it over his shoulder, his hands splayed over the backs of your thighs.

"Gotta be nice and quiet for me, yeah?"

You look down at him, your cheeks flushed, pupils dilated. You nod quickly, gasping as he presses a light kiss to your clit, your stomach muscles tensing momentarily.

He chuckles, watching you grow a bit flustered. He feels powerful being on his knees in front of you, knowing that he holds such an effect over you. He starts slow, lightly kissing your clit, his tongue peeking out to give you a few gentle licks, keeping his eyes up to watch your face.

He watches the way your lips part and your eyebrows furrow, your breath hitching in your chest as he starts lapping at your pussy. The music thumps through the walls, people's voices echoing just outside. If someone were to hear you moan, they'd know that he's getting you off, eating your pussy like it's the tastiest thing on earth.

He lifts your knee higher to get better access to your pussy, your eyes rolling back in your head as he sucks on your clit.

"F-fuck, Jungkook," you moan, trying to be as quiet as possible.

He feels a surge of satisfaction that he can make you squirm in pleasure. He moves his tongue with a fierce determination, his fingers digging into your thighs, his cock straining against his jeans at the sound of your breathless moans.

He reaches down and undoes the button of his jeans with one hand, unzipping it to pull his cock out, needing some relief. He starts lazily stroking it while his free hand slides between your thighs, pushing his index and middle fingers into your sopping entrance.

The sight of him pleasuring himself, mixed with the sensations of his tongue and fingers is almost enough to make you cum right that instant. You hold onto the door of the stall with one hand, the other gripping his hair as your high starts creeping up on you.

"Mmm...'m gonna cum," you whine, biting your bottom lip so hard, you almost draw blood.

He curls his fingers inside you, finding that spongy spot that makes your knees go weak. His tongue laps at your clit, your body tensing and trembling, trying desperately not to scream out as your orgasm suddenly washes over you, harsh jolts of pleasure rushing through you.

He rides you through it, pressing soft kisses to your throbbing pussy and inner thighs, looking up at you with a dazed look in his eyes. He stands up and licks his lips and fingers clean, his hard cock standing tall through his open zipper.

"Damn," he mutters, his voice slightly out of breath. "That theory might be right."

You let out a breathless huff of laughter, your legs tingling, your pussy pulsating. He steadies you with his strong hands on your hips, letting you taste your juices on his tongue as he kisses you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving it a few pumps. "Fuck me," you whisper against his lips, feeling his cock twitch in your palm, his breath hitching at the feeling.

He can only nod, too lost in his own lust to speak, his mind completely clouded by desire. He spins you around, pinning you to the stall, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls your hips back, grinding his cock against your ass.

"Gonna let me fuck this ass one day?" he teases, knowing you'll shut him down like you have before.

"Don't even think about it," you scoff, teasingly pushing your ass back against him.

"Worth a shot," he grins, tapping the head of his cock against your asscheek before aligning it with your entrance, a soft moan slipping from your lips as he pushes it in.

His eyes close as he sinks into you, his forehead falling forward against your shoulder. He groans at the feeling of you clenching around him, your tight, wet heat sucking him in. "Shit, you're so tight," he mutters, thrusting into you, his hands sliding up to your chest, giving your breasts a squeeze over your dress.

The pace is slow and steady at first, the constant thump of the bass and the muffled voices outside serving as a reminder that you're in a public bathroom. He soon starts to get lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him, his thrusts getting a little less controlled. He lets out soft grunts into your ear as he fucks you from behind, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on the feeling of your walls wrapped around him.

Then the sound of people entering the bathroom snaps him back to reality, his thrusts slowing down. He quickly covers your mouth with his large hand, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh, baby," he whispers softly, the tip of his cock still sitting snug between your walls.

You squeeze your eyes shut and concentrate on not being too loud, his cock inside you making it increasingly difficult. He slows his thrusts down to a languid rhythm, the thrill of other people nearby making it feel sexier, dirtier. "Good girl," he whispers, giving you a particularly deep thrust, his palm pressed firmly over your mouth to muffle your moans, his free hand moving down to rub tight circles over your clit.

You hear the sound of the girls' voices as they touch up their makeup at the sinks, mixed with the loud thumping music outside. Jungkook doesn't let up, thrusting harder to test your ability to keep quiet. It makes your head spin and your pussy throb.

After what feels like an eternity, the girls leave the bathroom, and it's like your body knew to wait, because your orgasm hits you almost immediately. Jungkook keeps thrusting, chasing his own high. You know he's close, his moans growing louder, his thrusts getting sloppier.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum...where do you want it?"

"In my mouth."

He quickly pulls out and watches as you drop to your knees before him, wrapping your lips around his cock. You suck on the head and stroke the shaft, looking up at his through your lashes.

One look down at you and he's cumming with a low groan, his hips stuttering as he empties himself in your mouth, his hand gripping the back of your hair. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, watching as you swallow every last drop, his stomach muscles tensing and relaxing as you lick him clean.

He helps you up and grabs some toilet paper to clean you off. He makes sure your dress is straight and your hair isn't messed up before you leave. As you're about to leave the bathroom stall, he pulls you back and gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up to give you a slow, deep kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue, mixed with some of your pineapple margarita.

"You taste good," he hums.

"Yeah? What do I taste like?"

"Pineapple and cum."

"You're disgusting," you laugh.

He chuckles, giving you one last peck before pulling away and opening the stall door for you, landing a quick slap on your ass as you walk out in front of him.

Jungkook leads you through the crowd of sweaty people to get to his friends' booth, the guys all there already. He knows his friends can be a bit much sometimes, but he has a feeling they’ll like you. Taehyung and Jihyo are already at the booth, the two getting well acquainted.

"Everyone, this is ___," he calls out over the music, sliding into the booth to sit next to Seokjin and Jisoo.

"Kook, I didn't know you have a girlfriend now," Mai smiles over at you, looking excited to meet you.

"Oh, I’m not- ...we’re just friends," you murmur with a faint smile.

"Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought…" she trails off, feeling a bit bad for assuming.

"It's okay," you chuckle, sliding in next to Jungkook. "It’s nice to meet you all," you smile, immediately being welcomed by his friends. You learn who each of his friends are, that Jisoo is Seokjin’s wife, that they have two kids, and that Namjoon and Mai are the happy couple about to get married. They all ask you a bit about yourself, curious to know who Jungkook’s lady "friend" is.

"You work at the university too, right?" Jimin asks, getting acquainted with you straight away.

"Yeah, I teach political science," you nod, quickly learning that he’s the outgoing one Jungkook told you about before.

"That's impressive," Namjoon muses, his arm slung around Mai’s shoulders.

Jungkook leans over to talk to you over the music, giving you a little insight of each of his friends. "Seokjin is the CFO of YJ Tech and Jisoo is a cardiologist."

"Wow," you quip, giving Jisoo an impressed look. "A cardiologist? That’s impressive."

"Please," Taehyung scoffs playfully, shrugging his shoulder. "A PhD is just as impressive as an MD."

"So, you're saying that teaching literature to 20 year olds is equally as impressive as doing open heart surgery?" Jimin asks, shaking his head in amusement.

"You're saying it's not?"

"Right, because if I’m having a heart attack, I want you there to read me a poem."

While the attention is now on Jimin and Taehyung's bickering, Jisoo's sister, Hana, turns her attention over to you. She has been silently watching you for a while, watching the way Jungkook leans in to whisper in your ear, the way he smiles whenever you speak. It makes her stomach twist in jealousy, and she's having a hard time hiding it, basically piercing you with her eyes. With everyone else preoccupied, she uses the opportunity to finally speak up.

"So, ___ was it? I'm Hana."

You look over at her, offering her a polite smile, completely oblivious to her one-sided animosity towards you. "It's nice to meet you."

She gives you a curt smile, her eyes flickering over to Jungkook. "Kookie, you never told me about your friend before. You guys seem...close."

Jungkook picks up on her snarky tone, but he ignores it. "We are, yeah," he murmurs, looking over at you with a little smile.

Hana looks between the two of you, mentally rolling her eyes. "Jungkook, did you notice I cut my hair? It looks good, right?"

He sighs, giving her a half-hearted smile. "It looks nice, Hana."

She smiles, fluffing her bob, her long, manicured nails tucking some of it behind her ear. She's a pretty girl, with sharp features and trendy style. She's quite confident, so she can't understand why Jungkook's eyes keep drifting over to you and not her.

"I love your hair," you smile, your tone soft and sincere. "I don't think I could pull off a bob."

"Yeah, well, not everyone has the face for it."

You're a bit taken aback by her tone, but you don't read too much into it, instead turning your attention back to Jungkook. He gives you a smile, his fingers trailing up your thigh under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You have the face for any hairstyle," he whispers, causing your cheeks to heat up.

Jisoo and Mai on the other hand are far more welcoming than Hana, the two immediately hitting it off with you. Mai especially has taken a liking to you, the two of you finding a comfortable rhythm as you get to know each other. You find out that you have a lot in common. She's great to talk to, she's super funny, and she's stunning, so you see why Namjoon is head over heels for her.

"___, c'mon, let's go do some shots!" she squeals, dragging you along with her to the bar. Jungkook watches the two of you with a soft smile on his face, chuckling as you look back at him with wide eyes. It's nice to see his friends getting to know the woman he thinks so highly of, and he hopes this is a step in the right direction for you and him.

Some of the guys and Jisoo go off to get some drinks, and Taehyung and Jihyo hit the dance floor together, leaving Hana alone with Jungkook. She gets up and slides into his side of the booth, sitting closer than he would like.

"Long time no see, stranger. You too busy with your new friend to send me a text?"

Jungkook clears his throat and shoots her a curt smile, wishing he were anywhere else right now.

"I've been busy with work, Hana," he scoffs. "And ___'s not a new friend. We've been friends for four years actually."

"You've never mentioned her before."

"I didn't think I had to," he shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, brushing her fingers along his bicep, her long nails lightly trailing along the leather of his jacket. "You should hit me up some time...when you're not too busy. I could help you unwind a bit," she purrs, looking up at him with her sultry eyes.

"That's okay, I don't think I need to unwind."

"You're such a stick in the mud," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "You should loosen up a bit. Have some fun once in a while."

He scoffs, his eyes trailing over to you at the bar, watching the way you laugh and chat with Mai, how pretty you look when you're carefree, the way your eyes subtly drift over to him when you think he's not looking.

"Believe me...I have plenty of fun," he murmurs, unable to take his eyes off you.

You end up having way more to drink than you initially planned, you and Mai downing shot after shot. With every shot Mai pushes into your hands, the more fun things start to feel.

"So! You and Jungkook," Mai grins after downing another shot of tequila. "What's the situation there, hm?"

"The situation?" you ask, your eyes subtly widening. "What do you mean?"

Mai chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She can tell the question caught you off guard a bit, but she genuinely wants to know. She isn't trying to pry or make you uncomfortable when you just met a while ago, but she isn't one to beat around the bush.

"Come on, don't play coy," she scoffs, giving you a pointed look.

"We're just friends," you mutter with a faint chuckle. "We work at the same university, we get along great, we're friends. Simple as that."

Mai raises an eyebrow at your answer, her intuition telling her there's more to the story than you're letting on. She grins at you, a knowing look in her eyes. "Oh really? Just friends, huh?" She glances in Jungkook's direction for a brief moment before returning to you.

"Mhm. That's all it is." You immediately down another shot, avoiding her eyes.

Mai studies you for a moment, her gaze quite perceptive. She can see there's a bit of defensiveness in the way you brush off her question, but she decides not to press any further, not wanting to put you on the spot. "Alright, alright...if that's what you say," she says with a small smirk, although she knows there's more to the story. Your gazes linger a bit too long for you to be 'just friends'.

You roll your eyes with a faint chuckle, turning the conversation over to her. "You and Namjoon, though. You make a great couple."

"Thanks! We are kind of adorable, aren't we?" She looks down at her ring and her expression softens. It's clear she's truly smitten with him, and him with her.

"How long have you been together?"

"We've been together for about seven years now," she smiles fondly. She leans her elbow on the bar counter, resting her chin in her palm. "I swear it feels like I've known him my whole life. I can't wait to marry him."

The subject of weddings and marriage is a bit of a sore subject for you, but you don't want to take away from Mai and Namjoon's moment, so you nod and smile, not wanting to dwell on your own misfortune. "I can tell. You're good together."

"Thank you," she murmurs with a soft smile. "Speaking of the wedding, we're actually taking a little pre-wedding trip to Jeju in two weeks. My parents have a beach house there and they never use it so we thought it would be fun to get everyone together. You should come!"

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting an invitation from someone you met an hour or two ago. "Really? You want me to come?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun! You can come as Jungkook's plus-one," she smiles, clapping her hands together in excitement before reaching over to take your hands in hers. "Will you?"

You're a bit skeptical about spending three days in Jeju with Jungkook and his friends, who you just met, but Mai seems so happy and you don't want to disappoint her. "O-Okay...yeah, I'd love to."

Mai orders another round of shots as a little celebration for you agreeing to join them on their trip, and by the time you finish them, you're both too tipsy to care about how loud you're both laughing or how bad your headache will be tomorrow.

When Jungkook comes to look for you, he finds you and Mai toppling over the bar counter in laughter about something she just said.

"Hey. How much did this one make you drink?" he asks with an amused smile, finding it kinda cute how drunk you are. He's not used to seeing you like this, but you seem to be having fun.

"Hey! Mai invited me to Jeju! Apparently I'm your plus-one!"

This is news to him, but not necessarily bad news. In fact, he's quite happy to hear that you'll be joining him on the trip.

"That's great," he nods with a soft smile, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

"I'm gonna go find Joon!" Mai says, giving you a few flying kisses before hurrying off to find her fiancé and presumably make out.

"You're pretty drunk. Maybe we should get you home," he smiles, gently rubbing your back.

"Nooo," you whine, dramatically tilting your head back to look up at him. "I don't wanna go home. I wanna dance. I love this song!"

You get up too fast and stumble, holding onto Jungkook for support. He holds you by your waist, making sure you don't trip over your high heels. "Okay, missy. I think I should get us an Uber."

He leads you out the club, shooting his friends a quick text to let them know he's heading out. The cool evening breeze hits you as you stand on the sidewalk, making you shiver. Jungkook notices, so he quickly removes his leather jacket and gently drapes it around your shoulders, clearly not bothered that he's wearing a thin tank. He'll stand in the cold if it means you're warm.

He orders an Uber to his apartment, standing with you in the cool evening air, his free arm resting around your waist to make sure you don't trip or stumble.

"Where are we going?"

"My apartment. You can stay over and I can drive you home tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Usually, you wouldn't stay the night at his place, but it's not usual circumstances. You're drunk, your feet hurt, and you just want to lie down, so you simply nod and give him consent to take you back to his place.

"What about Jihyo? I should text her."

"I just saw her with Tae with a minute ago. They seemed pretty cozy," he chuckles. "He said he'd give her a ride home, but you should probably still text her to let her know you're leaving."

You get your phone out and try to text her, but the keyboard looks a bit blurry, so you opt for a voice message, getting a thumbs up and an eggplant emoji in return.

The Uber eventually arrives and Jungkook holds the door for you, helping you inside before sliding in next to you. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder the whole way back to his apartment, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knee. "You sleepy?"

You nod, your eyes already starting to droop.

When the Uber drops you at the front of his apartment building, he sees the way you wince as you try to walk to the entrance, so he silently kneels down before you and helps you out of his heels, letting them dangle from his fingers as he turns around and gestures for you to get on his back.

You look down at him with a faint smile, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck, letting him give you a piggyback ride up to his apartment. "Thank you," you mumble into his neck, his cologne filling your nose.

"You don't have to thank me, baby."

The pet name rolls off his tongue so naturally, so sweetly, and usually you'd make a little joke or tease him about it, but you don't. You smile and try to ignore the butterflies going crazy in your stomach.

He gently sets you down when you reach his apartment, getting his keys from his jacket pocket to unlock the front door. He leads you inside, just like he normally would when you're over here, but this time he's not rushing to undress you or stick his tongue down your throat. His touches are gentle, and slow, and soft as he leads you to his bedroom and helps you change into an old t-shirt of his. He gets some wet wipes from the bathroom and gently removes your makeup for you. He puts toothpaste on his spare toothbrush for you and stands by your side while you brush your teeth. He goes to the kitchen and gets you a glass of water and an Advil for the headache he knows you'll have tomorrow morning, making sure you drink it.

He pulls back the duvet for you and helps you get settled in. He gently lays the duvet over you and brushes some of your hair out of your eyes, looking down at you with so much care and protectiveness. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches as you try your best to keep your eyes open, his smile growing wide enough to hurt his cheeks.

"So, you're joining us in Jeju, huh? How exactly did that happen?"

"Mai invited me. She's sweet. I think we really hit it off. We took a lot of shots," you mumble sleepily.

"Yeah, I saw," he scoffs. "That's why you're so drunk."

You chuckle, your eyes slowly falling closed.

"I'm really glad you're coming, by the way."

"You are?"

"I am," he murmurs softly, his gaze lingering on your tired face. He likes seeing you in his bed, a peaceful look on your face, your cheeks still flushed from the alcohol, your hair splayed over his pillow. You're almost too pretty to be real. He watches you for a while before reluctantly getting up to change out of his clothes.

You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as he gets up to go and change in the bathroom, smiling up at him when he returns in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. Your expression changes to one of confusion when he gets a pillow and turns to walk to the living room.

"Where're you going?" you ask, your voice soft and sleepy.

"To sleep on the couch. I know you don't do the whole 'sleeping in bed together' thing, with your rules and all..."

He's right. You don't do the 'sleeping in bed together' thing. So why do you feel so disappointed that he's going to be sleeping on the couch instead of the other side of the bed?

"You don't have to sleep on the couch, y'know. This is your home. You should sleep in your bed...with me..."

He stops in the doorway, looking over at you with wide eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. He never thought he'd ever hear those words coming from your mouth, and he isn't sure if he's the drunk one or if you actually said it.

"I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not."

He stays in the doorway for a few seconds, thinking this can't be real, but when he keeps blinking and you don't disappear, it sets in that it's real. He slowly makes his way back to bed, setting his pillow down and carefully getting under the covers with you, keeping a respectful distance. He has seen you naked and bent you in unspeakable positions, but he knows that simply sleeping in bed together is different for you. He knows that it's about more than what it appears to be, so he keeps a distance because you simply being here is enough for him.

Jungkook turns to face you, watching as the moonlight shines in through his bedroom window, a silvery glow illuminating your face. He feels a strong urge to touch you, not in any way sexual, but to just be physically closer to you. When you slowly turn your back to him, he's met with disappointment, but your next words cause a smile to break out onto his face.

"Can you give me back scratches?" you mumble sleepily, you voice sounding a bit groggy from the alcohol and exhaustion.

He stays still for a moment, just wanting to bask in this moment a bit. He slowly inches closer and reaches out to slide his hand up under the fabric of the oversized t-shirt you're wearing, and ever so lightly run his nails along the skin of your back. You're warm, and soft, and your skin is stained with his scent as you lay in his clothes, on his bedsheets. He doesn't say anything because words aren't necessary in this moment. He just slowly runs his nails over your back and listens as your breathing starts slowing down.

Jungkook doesn't fall sleep until it's well into the early hours of the morning. Not because he wasn't tired, but because he forced himself to stay awake. If he allowed himself to fall asleep, the moment would end, so he watched the back of your head until his eyes burned with exhaustion, and he caressed your back until his arm dropped limply to the mattress. He thinks that's what love is. He was never confident enough to say that he's ever fallen in love before, but if anyone were to ask him about love, he'd tell them about you. It was never obvious that he would fall for you. It didn't happen all at once. It wasn't immediate. He thought you were pretty, and he liked your company, but then somehow you slowly crept up under his flesh and made a home for yourself in the depths of his chest. He knows that he loves you, and if you are ever to be laid to rest in the dirt and soil, he will be envious of the earth that gets to hold your body.

You're still quite groggy when you wake up. The sun looks like it has already been out for a few hours, and if it didn't make your head hurt, you'd probably appreciate it. You slowly turn around to find a sleeping Jungkook. He's cute when he sleeps. His lips are pouty, his cheeks flushed, his hair a little bit messy. You realize that you've never seen him asleep before.

You don't get to enjoy it for too long before he starts stirring awake, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He smiles when his eyes land on you, and you mirror his expression. That sunlight streaming in through his window doesn't feel so annoying now that it's illuminating his face, making his glassy eyes sparkle.

"Morning." His voice. It's deep, a little raspy and husky, and it makes your thighs rub together.

"Morning."

"How're you feeling?"

"Not too bad. My head hurts a bit but I'm okay," you smile, inching a millimetre closer. "Thanks for letting me stay over. I probably wouldn't have been able to find my keys in my purse last night anyway."

He chuckles, a low rumble coming from deep within his chest. "It's no problem. You can stay anytime you want."

If it were up to him, you'd stay every night.

You watch as the duvet slides down to reveal his chest and arms, the muscles involuntarily flexing and relaxing. You've always liked his body. He's just the right amount of muscular. His skin is soft and smooth, and when he cums, he has this thin sheen of sweat that makes him glow.

You've barely woken up, you shouldn't be thinking about what he looks like when he cums. But you do, and you can't seem to think about anything else at the moment.

You slowly inch closer to him, your chests almost touching. You look up at his face, and the sleepy smile that resides there tells you he knows what you're doing and he welcomes it. He stays silent as you gently run your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut as he leans into your touch, looking a bit like Miso when you pet her. He doesn't say anything when you slowly trail your fingers down his neck and chest, making a slow descent down to the waistband of his sweatpants. Only when your fingers inch inside does he speak.

"What're you doing?" he asks with a lazy grin.

"Wanna say thank you for last night," you whisper, leaning in to softly kiss his neck, your fingers trailing down to his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

"You don't...have to," he sighs, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I want to," you whisper, tugging on the waistband of his sweatpants. "Take these off."

He reaches down and slides his sweatpants down his legs, having forgone boxers last night. He's on his back, with the duvet pushed down to his thighs, the sun heating up his skin. He has a bit of morning wood, so it makes it easier for you to wrap your fingers around him, his skin feeling warm and soft beneath your touch.

You start languidly pulling and pushing your hand up and down his shaft, his cock hardening in your hand. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing growing ragged.

"Feel good?"

"Yeah...feels...feels good, baby..."

You lean your body up on your elbow while stroking him, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and jaw. You quickly pull away to bring your hand up and spit in it, the lubricant making it feel even better. You glide you hand up and down his cock, twisting your wrist at the tip.

"Mmm...don't stop," he groans, his voice husky from sleep. He subtly rolls his hips up to meet your strokes, his abs flexing as the pleasure rolls through his body. He slowly opens his eyes to look up at you, his gaze filled with lust and affection. He brings his hand up to bring your face closer, capturing your lips in a soft, languid kiss. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, seeking entrance into your mouth.

You part your lips and let him lick into your mouth, his tongue brushing against yours. You stroke him faster, your fist tightening around him. His tip is already leaking, the head turning a light pink.

"Fuck," he groans, his eyes squeezing shut, his fingers sliding up under the t-shirt you're wearing to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

"This is a really...nice way to s-say thank you," he murmurs, his voice shaking, his thighs tensing.

"Yeah?"

"Mmmm...feels s-so good..."

His head falls back against the pillows with a soft thud, finding it hard to focus as you speed up your hand. He looks like he's struggling to keep his eyes open, the expression on his face absolutely blissful.

"Fuck, I'm close," he whimpers, his hand involuntarily squeezing your breast. His face is scrunched up in pleasure, his eyebrows are furrowed, his hair is messy. His cock leaks profusely, the head turning a darker red colour. It's a beautiful sight to see, him writhing in pleasure, his muscles tensing, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tries to prolong the pleasure.

You lean in to whisper in his ear, your teeth nipping his earlobe, your breath hot on his neck.

"Cum for me, Jungkook..."

It's like a dam breaks, thick white ropes of cum painting his abdomen and chest, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. A string of curses falls from his lips, his body jerking as the aftershocks of his orgasm flow through him.

You run your middle finger through his cum and bring it up to your lips, licking it clean.

"You taste good in the morning."

He looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a goofy smile on his face. He lifts his head to press a tender kiss to your lips, his cock twitching against his stomach. Watching you lick his cum off your fingers is such a turn-on, it's almost embarrassing.

"I feel selfish not returning the favour."

"It's okay," you smile. "I just wanted to do that for you."

You run your fingers through his hair, watching the way his eyes fall closed once more, his body relaxing into the mattress. He has a glow to him, and you didn't think it was possible, but he looks even more handsome right after he cums.

The two of you stay like that for a while before reluctantly getting up to go clean off. He takes a shower while you wait in the living room, wearing last night's dress and heels. While he's in the shower, you think back to the night before, the feeling of his nails on your back, the smell of his bedsheets, how perfect his t-shirt fit. It all makes your stomach feel funny. You smile to yourself as you think of him, how gentle and caring of a man he is.

When he walks out into the living room wearing a fresh set of clothes, his hair styled neatly, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, your heart beats a little bit faster, and when he drives you home, you look over at him with a soft look in your eyes. He stops at a cafe on the way to your apartment and you get two breakfast bagels, even though it's already nearly noon. You insist on paying and he fights you on it, quickly handing the cashier his card before you manage to get yours out of your purse. When you sit in his car in the parking lot and eat your bagels together, your heart feels light and the conversation feels easy, your laughter and teasing remarks filling his car.

When he parks his car outside of your building and walks you up to your apartment, you don't feel that anxious pit in your stomach that you would normally feel after spending a bit too much time with him. So, when you stop in front of your door and he bids you goodbye, you gently grab his wrist before he can turn around and walk away. You stop him, and you kiss him. You wrap your arms around his neck and you kiss him slowly and tenderly. You kiss him until you both have to pull away for air, and then you give him a few more kisses before pulling away with a little smile.

"What was that for?" he whispers, his smile mirroring yours.

"Another 'thank you', I guess."

He leans in and presses one final kiss to your lips, his hands holding your waist, his nose brushing against yours as be reluctantly pulls away.

"That was 'you're welcome'."

< Part 3 || Part 5 >

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #fic: tmhtl #kookooluvr

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joemama-2 · 7 days ago

Text

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 7.4k (shorter chap woop) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Year: Early 2018

He hasn’t been answering your phone calls. Or your texts. A growing sense of anxiety and worry forms in your gut. You've trained yourself to push down the more insidious thoughts that threaten your already deteriorating relationship. It’s been a long day for you. From work, to your annoying mother, and now to your M.I.A boyfriend. You wanted to relax at home with a movie and soothing music, maybe even food. However, it’s been hard to eat for the past few weeks.

The last place you wanted to be was at some house party with snobby people who probably never have realized the true meaning of a dollar. The music is loud and the blue lights do nothing but further annoy you, reminding you of just how much you hate parties. Pushing through the throngs of people, either too drunk to high to give your rudeness a huff.

It’s not hard to spot him, but the sight makes you dig your nails into your palms. Feeling bile rise in your throat when a girl—one you’ve never seen before—is getting too close and personal with your man. And worst of all? He’s not even pushing her away. He’s obviously drunk. Still, you assumed he would have that much decency to push back flirting advances from random girls. He always did.

But things have been changing recently, slowly but surely. Ever since that happened.

Your feet work quickly, forcing yourself to stay determined and not break down and cry right now. You’ve been doing too much of that. “Satoru.” You call out, voice loud and firm enough that he swivels his head to meet your eyes on just the first try. The girl does so also, head tilting in a scrutinizing way that you hate. “Are you drunk?”

The tint on his cheeks is proof enough. But so is his lazy grin. “What do you think?”

The girl giggles, leaning into your boyfriend’s arm. Watching her do so sends a wave of fury down your spine. You would have stepped in if it weren’t for Satoru finally being a decent man and pulling away from her. “Sorry, you gotta go.”

“Excuse me?” The girl huffs, scowling in disgust. “For what? I thought we were having a good time.”

So, they were together the whole night, huh? They probably would have stayed together if you didn’t make an appearance. What if they would have taken things further? What if Satoru imitated something? You can already feel the familiar tingle at the back of your throat, turning around and heading back for the door. He follows, grabbing your arm in an attempt to stop you. “Y/N—“

“Don’t.” You grit, yanking your arm away and pushing your way back out to the front of the large house, ignoring some of a drunken couple’s protests as you ruin their make-out session. When you make your way onto the sidewalk, you feel a more insistent tug at your wrist that causes you to face him fully. Meeting his glazed-over eyes with your own teary pair, biting down on your quivering lip. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why are you ignoring me?”

He sighs, running a hand down his face when he lets go of you. “I’m not ignoring you, Y/N. I’m sorry, I should have told you I’d be out. But it was last minute.”

A scoff falls from your lips. “Last minute, huh? Is that what you call it? Hanging around some random girl and acting like you don’t have a worried girlfriend waiting for you?”

“Y/N—“

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your tears now flow freely down your face, eyes red. The expression you adorn does nothing but break his heart. He hates seeing you cry, he always has. And the small, sober part of him is cursing at himself for being such a jackass tonight. But the dominant, drunk side wants no part of an argument tonight.

“No, I didn’t. I’d never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“I want you to be a good boyfriend for once!” You croak out, pushing him back by his shoulders. “Y-you know what I’m going through, you know how hard it’s been. And what do you do? You go out and party, you don’t tell me, and I find some random girl all up on you. And then you smiled like it was funny. D-do you know how much you’re hurting me even more, Satoru?” The trembling of your voice pokes at his heartstrings.

Satoru stares at you, his expression faltering. For a moment, you think you see guilt flicker across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder—defensiveness. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, alright? I was just...blowing off steam.”

“Blowing off steam?” you repeat, your voice rising as fresh anger bubbles in your chest. “You call this blowing off steam? Ignoring me? Letting some girl throw herself all over you? You’re unbelievable.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his movements. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Stay at home and sulk all the time? I can’t—” He stops himself, biting his lip, but you know what he was going to say.

“You can’t what, Satoru?” Your voice cracks again, but this time it’s laced with more rage than sorrow. “You can’t deal with me? With everything I’m going through? You promised you’d be there for me. You said we’d get through this together.”

“I am here for you!” he snaps, but the slight slur in his voice takes the edge off his words. “But you’re acting like I can’t breathe without you questioning every little thing I do. I’ve been going through shit too, Y/N.”

You suck in a shaky breath. “That’s not fair,” you whisper, your fists clenching at your sides. “You know it’s not. If I didn’t care—if I didn’t love you—I wouldn’t be here, trying to fix this.”

He exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t cheat on you, Y/N. I swear I didn’t. But I—” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know how to handle all of this, okay? It’s a lot.”

Your breath hitches, his words cut deeper than he probably intended. “You think this isn’t a lot for me too?” you ask, your voice trembling. “I’ve been trying so hard, Satoru. To hold on. To be strong. For both of us. But you’re slipping away, and I don’t know how to bring you back. I know how to handle things just as much as you do.”

He looks up then, his blue eyes clearer now, filled with something that looks almost like regret. For a brief second, you think he might apologize—might say the words you so desperately need to hear. But instead, he shakes his head and says, “Maybe we just need some space.”

The world tilts beneath you. His words echo in your mind, louder than the music still blaring from the house behind you. “Space?” you repeat, barely able to say the word. “You want to take a break?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice quiet, almost defeated. “I just...I think we’re both hurting each other more than we’re helping.”

You laugh bitterly, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. “No, Satoru. You’re hurting me. You’re the one who stopped trying. You’re the one who’s giving up.” He flinches at your words, but he doesn’t argue. And somehow, that hurts even more. You shake your head, stepping back from him. “If space is what you want, then fine. But don’t expect me to be here waiting when you figure yourself out.”

You turn and walk away, your heart shattering with every step. This isn’t how you imagined the night would go. It isn’t how you imagined your relationship would go. But as you leave him standing there on the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder if this was inevitable all along.

The same song begins to play. Because soon, his arms are wrapping around you before you even know it, shoving his face into the side of your neck. “No, no, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m drunk, okay? Please don’t leave, please. L-let’s just go home, my parents aren’t there. Please, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

And like a broken record, you give in. Because the broken part of you still craves him. His touch, his comforting hugs, his words. His everything. You feel like a puzzle with pieces too big or small to fit, some pieces lost. But with Satoru, he makes them fit. He finds those pieces of you; the ones you can’t find yourself. In a way, you know things are failing and falling apart.

But you’re laying back in his bed, feeling the constant vibration of your phone. Texts from your mother and you have no doubt she’s blowing up your phone about the way you snuck out and demanding to know where you are. It’s interesting, you’re twenty-one but she treats you like a kid. All because you still live with her.

Your heart feels heavy, your stomach twisting with nausea and you’re not even the drunk one. His hands hold your teary cheeks, meeting your gaze with watery ones of his own. Combined tears wet his pillow until there’s no more to give out. He’s been crying with you, but sometimes it feels fake.

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask again, whispering in a shaky tone.

His lips purse and he shakes his head. “…no, I didn’t. I told you, I’d never.”

You search his face, looking for cracks in the foundation of his words. His sorrowful eyes, flushed cheeks, and trembling hands—all of it feels sincere, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Not so much anymore. “You’re sure?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I’m sure,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I swear to you, Y/N. I’d never do that to you. Never.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear on your cheek, and for a moment, the warmth of his touch almost convinces you.

Almost.

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily as his hands cradle your face. You want to believe him. You need to believe him. But the doubt lingers like a shadow, clawing at the edges of your mind. “Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” you ask, your voice breaking.

Satoru flinches, his hands momentarily faltering before steadying again. “You’re not losing me,” he says quickly, almost desperately. “I know I’ve been...different lately, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just—” He pauses, his gaze dropping as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to handle this, Y/N. I don’t know how to be what you need right now. There’s so much and I…” his voice trails off, fearing he’s saying too much and it’ll only make you feel worse. Make himself feel worse.

Your chest tightens, his confession cutting deeper than you expected. “I don’t need you to have all the answers, Satoru. I just need you to try. To be honest with me. To stop shutting me out. You…you’re the only one—you’re all I have right now.”

“I’m trying,” he insists, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I swear I’m trying. But it feels like...like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. And I hate it. I hate that I’m hurting you.”

The rawness in his voice pulls at something in you, making it harder to keep the walls around your heart intact. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression mirrors your own. “I don’t want to lose you, Satoru,” you say softly. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one fighting for us.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, his hands tightening slightly on your face as if afraid you’ll slip away. “You’re not, Y/N. I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do better. I promise. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

The plea in his voice, the tears in his eyes—they’re enough to make the broken pieces of your heart shift, trying to fit back together even if they don’t quite align. Against your better judgment, you nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whisper. “But this is your last chance, Satoru. I mean it.”

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t mess this up. I promise.” But Satoru isn’t the best at promises. He’s only good at making them for others, not keeping them for himself.

As he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you might vanish, you can’t help but wonder how many more promises you’ll let him break before there’s nothing left of you to give. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, hoping—maybe foolishly—that this time will be different. Because he’s all you have. All you know. He knows you inside and out—the way your voice wavers when you’re holding back tears, the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous, the way you laugh like it’s the only thing keeping you from breaking. And you know him just as deeply. Every freckle on his skin, every scar that tells a story, every mole you’ve discovered in moments of intimacy. You’ve memorized him like a favorite book, reading him over and over until the lines blur but still feel familiar.

You two are like each other’s canvases—painted with touches, kisses, and shared memories, even the messy ones. Every fight, every tear-streaked night, every whispered “I’m sorry” adds another layer to the masterpiece that is you and him. But lately, it feels like the colors are running, bleeding into one another until the picture is unrecognizable. And you don’t know if you can fix it, or if you even should. Never did you think that things would change so much, and all because of one failed situation.

What a weak body you have, what a weak person you are.

He holds you tighter, his fingers threading through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence. “You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “I know I’ve been a mess, but I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

But his promises feel like paint on a waterlogged canvas—fading, smudged, and far too fragile. Still, you nod, letting the comfort of his warmth lull you into silence. Because no matter how fractured you feel, no matter how much the doubt weighs on your chest, he’s all you have. You can’t handle the thought of facing everything alone now, can’t handle the thought of not having someone to hug you when you burst down in tears.

You hate the way things are now, but you’ve sunk too deep into him. And him the same. Over time, you feel like he will retract his hold from you before you do so yourself. You can almost feel it coming, one way or another. It’s why you’re holding him tighter, pressing your body deeper into his. Because you know you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself. Awaiting the inevitable hurts so bad. Knowing that no matter what, your end is visible. You can see the finish line just a few yards away. It’s like a race, and you’re letting Satoru win. Envisioning him running his long legs to the checkered line with a smile on his face like he’s happy—relieved. You don’t want to hold him, that’s the last thing you want to do. However, you’re being as selfish as you can be right now. Before every privilege is stripped from you in a cold manner that will leave you shivering for warmth. But his presence is something. And for now, that’s enough to keep you here and sane.

Little did you know, you'd win that race before he did. You just needed that little push. He's the hare, and you're the tortoise.

You stay in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a constant reminder of the closeness you’ve always shared. It feels almost like an illusion, the peace between you both. But underneath, there’s a tension that hasn’t quite loosened, a thread pulled tight between the two of you, holding you close but threatening to snap at the slightest tug. His grip tightens, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your two worlds together. The quiet hum of the room feels almost suffocating now. Your phone continues to buzz with your mother’s increasingly frantic texts, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that right now. Not with Satoru’s breath warm on your neck and his hands gently caressing your skin. Not when it’s easier to let him hold you in this fragile moment of peace.

You close your eyes, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. The quietness stays for a long moment, But when he speaks, it’s almost a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth that might spill out.

“I’ll try. I’ll be here for you, Y/N. I swear it.”

You wonder if you can truly believe him this time. If you can let yourself hope that things might really change. But the doubt is a familiar companion, lingering in the shadows, waiting to remind you of the cracks in his promises. Still, for tonight, you let it go. You let yourself sink into him, giving into the small piece of comfort he offers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

You wake up in a cold sweat, dried tears staining your cheeks. Your stomach feels sensitive, nails already digging into your palms so hard that the skin is growing red and prickly. Every emotion you felt from that dream—nightmare—whatever it was feels ten times more real. You don’t know why you’re having these weird dreams about something from years ago.

But it still hurts all the same, nonetheless.

You still feel hollow, drowned, and ready to pour your heart out into your pillow. But it’s morning and time to get up for bed. Christmas Eve is in three days and you’re just counting down until when you won’t have to go into work. Going through your routine, getting Koji ready for the day, opening the door for Sana. Leaving your place of solitude, it feels like you barely even lived through this morning.

The chill of the morning air hits your skin as you step outside, tugging your coat tighter around you. The weight of your dream lingers, like a fog that refuses to lift. You keep telling yourself it was just a dream, just a memory from a time you’ve tried so hard to bury. But it clings to you like a ghost, whispering doubts into your ear, even as you force yourself to move through the motions. you can’t help but glance up at the sky, the gray clouds reflecting the heaviness in your chest. Christmas Eve is in three days, and you can’t wait to take a break from not just work—from everything.

If only escaping your past was as easy as flipping the calendar to a new year.

Satoru texts you around the 2-hour mark that he’ll be going over to your place soon to see Koji and bring the gifts he got. You let Sana know of the change, she replies back with a simple ‘okay!’

You sigh, willing yourself to forget about the drama your life entails, and focus on your work.

However, another thought is creeping in through the door, and this time—it’s not such a bad one. You feel a fluttering sensation in your gut, holding back a peal of stifled laughter as the memory of last night makes its presence known. After the whole shirt incident, Suguru stayed. He kept his word about not making anything weird, and you two ended with a simple chat and a movie. It felt nice.

Of course, there were hints of lingering peeks, that strange tension tossed up in the air that neither of you fully addressed. But it’s fine, it didn’t mean anything at the end of the day. Although, when it was time for him to leave, you did have a second of hesitation about whether you should hug him or simply say goodbye. He decided for you when he carefully opened his arms up, you followed suit.

Inhaling his scent felt heavenly. Manly, but also feminine at the same time. An earthly scent that felt like hints of incense. The memory of his embrace lingers like the faintest trace of his cologne, warm and comforting. It wasn’t just the way he held you—it was the way he made you feel. Secure. Understood. Like you weren’t just surviving, but living, even if just for that moment.

You haven't hugged a man in so long. You forgot how good they hug.

You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. It wasn’t anything. It shouldn’t be anything. Suguru’s always been like that—gentle, kind, and just a little too perceptive for his own good. He knew exactly when to stay and exactly what you needed without you even having to say it. Still, you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picked up when his arms wrapped around you, the way your cheek brushed against his shoulder, and how your fingers had almost lingered a little too long against his back. It felt natural, but also entirely new.

Suguru’s presence was so easy, so effortless. It felt like slipping into an old favorite sweater, soft and familiar but with a spark of something you couldn’t quite place. You’d been so wrapped up in keeping everything together, in pushing through every day for Koji’s sake, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen.

You wonder if Satoru holds the same longing you do.

You shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. Don’t think about him. There’s no point in overthinking any of this.

“Hello, you must be Koji’s father.” Sana greets Satoru who stands in the doorway. With him, two armfuls of gifts. Even more on the floor next to his feet.

Simply nodding and looking over her shoulder to see Koji eating his lunch. “And you’re the babysitter.” Without much else, he carefully pushes past her, bringing in the gifts. “Mind getting the rest? Thanks.”

She nods, grabbing what was left on the floor before bringing it in, closing and locking the door. When she turns back around, Koji is in his father’s embrace. She smiles at the scene. “Ms. Y/N told me you’d be coming. He’s been good so far, he’s just eating his lunch now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Satoru replies, pulling away from his son. Doing a quick scan of the place before his eyes land back on the young woman. “How long have you been watching my son again?”

“A couple of years.”

He hums, walking closer to her. “And you’re how old?”

Sana blinks, surprised by the question. "I'm twenty," she says cautiously, her polite smile wavering slightly under his scrutiny.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Twenty, huh? Pretty young to be taking care of kids."

“I’ve been babysitting since I was sixteen,” she replies, straightening her posture. “I’m studying early childhood education, so it’s not just a job to me. I care about Koji.”

His expression softens a fraction, and he glances back at his son, who’s happily munching away at his sandwich. “He does seem to like you,” Satoru admits, his tone less probing now.

“He’s a great kid,” Sana says warmly. “Very smart, just like his mother.”

That earns her a faint smile. “Yeah, just like his mother.” He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the counter. “So, Y/N told you I’d be stopping by today?”

“Yes, she mentioned it when I got here this morning.”

Satoru nods, tapping his fingers against his forearm thoughtfully. “Good. Thanks for helping out today. I know it’s probably not easy juggling school and babysitting.”

“It’s manageable,” Sana replies, sensing a subtle change in his demeanor. “Koji makes it worth it.”

Satoru’s gaze lingers on her for a moment longer before he straightens up. “I’ll take over from here. You can go ahead and clock out early if you want.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he says, waving her off. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ve got this.”

Sana hesitates briefly, glancing at Koji, who’s still blissfully unaware of the conversation. “Alright then. Have a good evening, Mr. Gojo.”

As she gathers her things and heads for the door, she feels his eyes on her. It’s not hostile, but it’s assessing. Like he’s trying to gauge something about her. She doesn’t dwell on it, though—whatever it is, it’s not her place to question. “Oh!” She turns around as if she just remembered something. “Ms. Y/N leaves a list. It’s taped to the—”

“I don’t need a list to take care of my son.” He cuts her off smoothly, his one eyebrow raising. “Thanks again, have a good day.”

She falters, once again caught a little off guard. This is her first time meeting him, and while she’s of course seen the articles and comments about the drama surrounding the small family, she has no bias. In fact, she sympathizes greatly with you for going through all this alone. As she’s leaving the apartment, she can’t help the small opinion of Satoru that he’s already given her.

He’s so intimidating!

After she leaves, Satoru focuses back on his son—this shitty apartment. He hasn’t explicitly voiced his opinions out to you—of course you already know what they are. And as you said before, it’s all you could afford, and Koji’s happy. However, he can’t stop himself from grimacing at the so-called ‘decorations’. This place needs some serious revamping.

“Hey, buddy?”

Koji looks over, wiping his mouth. “Yes, Papa?”

“When you’re done eating, want to help me with something?” And Koji doesn’t need to be told anymore. He loves helping—especially his mother and father. So he nods excitedly, practically scarfing down the rest of his sandwich. Bubbling with giddiness only a child could have.

Satoru chuckles at his son’s behavior, heart warming. This is the first time he’s doing something festive with Koji. The bitter part of him tells him that he could’ve had more chances to do so if it weren’t for your cowardness. But he shoves that away, focusing on the jolly joy the holidays can bring.

Today was more tiring than usual, with the cafe gaining more attention, there’s been rush after rush after rush. You can handle it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wear you down by the time you clock out. And your day isn’t even done yet. Slugging your way to your front door, lazily opening it with your key. Tossing your coat on the nearby rack, your bag with it.

“I’m ba—”

You sniffle. One. Twice.

A pinecone-y scent fills your nostrils. Which is strange because you know you have no candles that house that aroma. Confusion, but wariness takes over your senses. Following the sound of laughter down the hall until you’re standing in the living room.

The sight you see is more than startling.

Your eyes dart around in a frenzy, landing on one new thing after the next. The small, simple Christmas tree you’d put up last week? Replaced by a towering, impeccably decorated monstrosity with shimmering lights and a star that looks like it came straight out of a luxury catalog. It barely even fits in the room. Luckily, the small picture ornament of you and Koji is still there. But it looks so out of place.

The garlands you’d strung across the walls? Gone, swapped for lush, sparkling ones adorned with oversized ornaments. Even your modest stockings have been replaced with personalized velvet ones embroidered with gold thread, hanging perfectly above a faux fireplace setup that definitely wasn’t there this morning.

It’s like a winter wonderland exploded in your living room, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or scream.

Koji is sitting on the couch, giggling as Satoru playfully pretends to tangle himself in a string of fairy lights. Your son’s laughter is contagious, but you can’t shake the growing irritation bubbling inside you. When Koji notices you, his eyes brighten even more. Gaping and rushing over to your leg, hugging it. “Mama! Mama! Look what Papa and I did! It’s so pretty and there are so many presents!”

There is. There’s a lot of presents. Practically stacking on top of one another under your refurbished tree. Hidden somewhere in the splurge are the gifts Suguru got for you and Koji.

Gulping, you feel your throat tighten. You feel nothing but overwhelmed. But in the face of your son, you can’t exactly show that. You force a smile as you ruffle Koji’s hair, trying to push down the irritation clawing its way to the surface. “Wow, it’s… definitely something,” you say, your voice strained but managing to sound somewhat amused for Koji’s sake.

Satoru, now untangled from the lights, looks up from the couch with that boyish grin of his. “Do you love it or do you love it?” he asks, gesturing to the extravagant decor like he’s unveiling a masterpiece.

You blink at him, incredulous—but still attempting to keep yourself calm. “What… what happened to the decorations we already had?”

“Oh, those?” He waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s just say they weren’t really up to par. I mean, come on, Y/N. That tree you had? It was like something out of a Charlie Brown Christmas special. I couldn’t let Koji’s holiday spirit suffer like that.”

Your jaw tightens, the forced smile threatening to slip. “So, you just… decided to replace everything? Without asking me?”

He stands, brushing off invisible dust from his jeans as if the weight of his decision is nothing. “You were busy, and I figured you’d appreciate coming home to something nice for once. Besides, look at Koji—he’s thrilled!”

Koji tugs at your sleeve, his wide-eyed excitement piercing through your annoyance. “It’s so cool, Mama! Look at all the shiny ornaments! And Papa let me pick out the star!” Your son runs over to show off a few of the many, many presents he has. Showing extra excitement for the heavier and larger ones. “Papa says it’s magical. I want to have a magical Christmas every time, Mama.”

The words, innocent but heavy, almost make you physically kneel down. You feel your chest tighten, your throat closing up even more. The lump that forms is difficult to swallow down. The implication of Satoru’s and your son's words feels a bit degrading. And you don’t blame it on Koji, he means nothing malicious. But for some reason, being faced with the physical line of difference between you and Satoru, watching your son’s face light up in a way that you’ve never seen before…

It reminds you that your enough has never been enough. Each Christmas, it’s dull. Your Christmases aren’t magical. Your life isn’t.

You feel the weight of it all crashing down like the oversized star on the new tree is pressing on your chest. Satoru's extravagance, Koji's innocent excitement, and your own feelings of inadequacy swirl together into a storm you’re barely holding back.

Your forced smile falters, but you quickly kneel to Koji's level, brushing his hair away from his glowing face. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” you say softly, voice trembling but steady enough to reassure him. “I’m glad you had fun with Papa.”

Koji beams, and for a moment, his joy is a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s pretty, isn’t it, Mama?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “So pretty.” Standing slowly, your hand lingers on Koji’s shoulder. “Really pretty,” you repeat quietly, not committing to anything. You can feel Satoru watching you, his casual demeanor only adding to your irritation. The worst part of it all is that it seems like he genuinely has no idea what he did wrong.

In hindsight, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t his intention to make you feel like a shitty mother, but Satoru is good at pointing out the differences in his own ways.

When Koji bounds back to the pile of gifts, you finally let yourself meet Satoru’s gaze. “You really didn’t think to talk to me about this?”

His grin fades just a fraction, replaced by a look of confusion. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to do something special for Koji. And let’s be honest, Y/N—this is special.”

“It’s not about the decorations, Satoru,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “It’s about you making decisions without considering how I might feel about it. Again.”

He tilts his head, the glower returning, though it feels sharper now. “You’re overthinking this. It’s just Christmas decorations, Y/N. Look at Koji—he’s happy. Isn’t that what matters?”

You clench your fists, the tightness in your chest threatening to spill over into something you can’t control. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about the decorations. It’s about you coming in here and acting like everything I do is subpar. Like I’m not enough.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, Satoru’s expression falters. But he recovers quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the arm of the couch. “Y/N, no one’s saying that. You’re reading too much into this. I just wanted to make things nice for Koji, that’s all.”

Your laugh is bitter, and it catches even you off guard. “Right. Because your version of nice is always the right one. I’m just the placeholder until you decide to step in and fix everything, aren’t I?”

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, the playful spark he had with Kojidimming. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, your voice breaking despite your effort to stay calm. “You swoop in with all your money and your grand gestures, and I’m supposed to just smile and be grateful. But do you even realize how hard I’ve worked to give Koji a Christmas he’ll enjoy? How much I’ve sacrificed just to keep things normal?”

His silence stings more than any retort could.

Koji’s laughter in the background feels distant now, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s too distracted with the tree, his presents, everything. You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, before forcing a calmness you don’t feel. You won’t fight in front of him.

“I’m going to get changed,” you mutter, not waiting for a response.

As you leave the room, Satoru calls after you, his voice softer but no less exasperated. “Y/N, come on. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”

But to you, it already feels like a chasm. One that grows wider with every passing second.

You shut your door, leaning against it with your forehead. Breaths coming in short, hands trembling slightly. Biting your quivering lip, you maneuver your body to change into your uniform. All the while, tears are getting on your hands and clothes. Accidentally, you let out a small, broken whimper.

Quickly, you place a palm to your mouth, stifling and quieting your soft cries. Once you’re done changing, you fall back onto the bed. Curled up with knees drawn to your chest, as the burden of your own self-consciousness rains down on you. The room feels suffocatingly small, your emotions clawing at your throat, demanding to be let out.

The tears come harder now, soaking into the fabric of your uniform as you press your hands to your face, muffling the quiet sobs. You hate this—how easily Satoru gets under your skin, how he makes you feel insignificant without even trying. You thought you were past this. Past him. But somehow, he always finds a way to remind you of all the ways you’ve fallen short. Or at least, all the ways he makes you feel like you have.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“Y/N?” His voice is muffled through the wood, quieter than usual as if he’s trying not to disturb you. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer, biting down on your lip to keep from making another sound.

“Look,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “I know I upset you. I didn’t mean to. Can we just… talk?”

For a moment, you consider staying silent, letting him stew in his own discomfort. But the tension is too thick, and you know Koji is just down the hall. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet, wiping at your face in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your tears. Wiping your face and straightening your clothes, you open the door. “I have work.” You mutter, expertly enforcing a placid emotion. “Will you watch him?”

Without waiting for a response, you walk past him. But he grabs at your wrist, instinctively you pull away. “Stop, just stop, okay? Let’s not fight. We’re adults, we can talk this out. I don’t mean to make you feel less than, I just wanted to make Koji happy.”

“And do you think he’s not happy with me?” You snap back, looking up at him. Feeling your vision already beginning to blur. “Do you? Do you think he’ll be happy with you? I-Is that it?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. The air between you feels like it could snap under the weight of everything left unsaid. His hand hovers near his side, as if he wants to reach out again but knows better now. “No,” he says softly, his voice steady but lined with regret. “That’s not what I meant. Koji is happy with you. He loves you more than anything.”

“Then why do you keep acting like what I do isn’t enough?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve been doing this alone, Satoru. Every scraped knee, every fever, every night when he cries because he’s scared of the dark—I’m there. Not you. Me. So don’t you dare come in here, throw your money around, and act like you can just fix everything with some… Christmas wonderland.”

“But you didn’t let me come in sooner, Y/N.” He replies, exasperation in his voice.

“I know that, and I’m sorry. I know I fucked up…”

“Then stop getting mad at little things.”

Your fists ball up, your expression growing firmer by the second. But so is the need to cry again. He’s right, everything he says is right. It’s your own fault that you’ve been forced to handle everything alone. But, don’t your feelings matter just a little bit in this situation? Is he allowed to just come in and fix up everything you have? What he thinks is a mess, it’s something that holds significance to you. What he thinks is a little thing, it’s a big one in your eyes.

So while this scenario is blowing up into something bigger, your decorations are something you have control of. You only have control over so many things in your life.

He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you, Y/N. I swear. I just… I wanted to give him something special. Something I never had growing up.”

It makes you feel even more guilty. You can’t find it in you to say anything else, turning back around and walking to the living room. “Goodbye, Koji. Mama will see you later.” Giving him a brief hug and kiss, you hurriedly grab your coat and purse, exiting your apartment just as fast as you came.

Unbeknownst to you, Koji is left staring at the closed door. His head tilting in curiosity, while a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks up at his father when he enters the living room again, the two owning matching guises. “Why’d Mama leave so fast? I wanted to show her the drawing we did.” The white paper in his hands pictures three figures. Each one smiling, the smaller boy in the middle holding hands with his two parents on either side of him. He even drew blue snowflakes.

There’s a red heart around them with the words My family! at the top.

Satoru stands there, staring at the door you just closed, feeling the weight of Koji’s innocent question settle on his shoulders. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he glances down at his son, whose big, curious eyes are filled with disappointment.

“She’s just tired, buddy,” Satoru replies, crouching down to Koji’s level. His tone is softer now, more measured, as he tries to mask the turmoil bubbling under his calm façade. “She’s been working really hard, you know? Grown-up stuff.”

Koji’s frown deepens, his little brows furrowing. “But we worked hard too! We did the tree and the presents and everything!” His tiny hands gesture to the decorated room, his frustration clear. “Mama’s s’posed to be happy.”

Satoru feels his chest tighten at the words. He places a hand on Koji’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “She is happy, Koji. She just… needs some time, that’s all. Grown-ups can be funny like that.”

Koji looks down, fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up. “Is it my fault?”

Satoru’s heart aches at the question, and he immediately shakes his head, pulling Koji into a firm hug. “No, not even a little bit. You didn’t do anything wrong, Koji. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

Koji nods slowly against his father’s shoulder but remains quiet. Satoru pulls back, cupping his son’s face in his hands. “Mama loves you so much, Koji. More than anything in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay…” Koji mumbles, still not entirely convinced. He inhaled deeply, then spoke again. “Do…does Mama love you too?”

The question catches him off guard, putting an even bigger weight on Satoru’s shoulders. He should’ve expected it, Koji is a curious kid who still doesn’t completely grasp the complexities of his parents’ relationship. Satoru smiles faintly, kissing Koji’s cheek. “Mama has a lot of love.”

The answer satisfies Koji. For now.

Satoru ruffles his son’s hair. “How about we finish that drawing? We’ll save it for her when she gets back.”

Koji perks up slightly, nodding. “Okay! But you gotta color inside the lines this time, Papa.”

Satoru chuckles, relieved to see even a small smile return to Koji’s face. “Deal. But only if you promise not to make fun of me if I mess up. I’m sensitive.”

Koji giggles, taking his father’s hand to lead him back to the small table. As they sit down to continue their drawing, Satoru steals a glance at the door again, his smile faltering for just a second.

He’s trying—he really is. But he wonders if it’ll ever be enough. It’s like no matter what he does, you don’t like it; and vice versa. He’s being as understanding and nice as someone in his situation can be. At times, he feels he’s being even too nice to you. He knew things wouldn’t be easy, but he wants to spend time with his son. Make up for all the lost time, and even the littlest moments. It’s almost a little bit unfair of you to throw the fact that he has money and you don’t in his face like that. He didn’t ask to be born rich. Just like you didn’t ask to be born…like that. You’re the adults in this situation, there’s a kid involved. So truly, he wishes he could just have a single conversation with you that doesn’t feel anger-surged or bitter. Of course, it’s hard because of what has happened before, but there’s a time and a place, is there not?

Whatever. He’s more than happy to color with Koji and do whatever the little boy asks while you have your own moment. Satoru knows best of everyone else you like having space. And while many years have passed and his feelings for you have grown less than savory, he stills wants to respect your wishes after an argument with him.

He can’t help but think the obvious, though. Is it even worth attempting to mend whatever little shards of semblance there is left with you?

Probably not. Because after all, he’s here only for Koji.

Right?

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missqhughes · 4 months ago

Text

CAN HE GET YOU LIKE THIS? | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x jacksgf!reader

-> contains: cheating, smut with plot , SLIGHT angst, and other sexual themes, oc’s created for tha plot, intended lowercase, use of y/n

-> IN WHICH: jack almost cant seem to control himself around another woman at the lake house; and to make it worse, in front of his girlfriend. when she cries her frustrations to her boyfriends older brother, he seems to have the perfect solution to her problems.

-> my first hockey fic! i spent so much time on it, and i’m pretty proud tbh. also, i’m so excited to post on this page, and as i always say on my other blog, hope you love it as much as i do!

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

y/n was never the jealous type.

she never needed anyone’s approval.

but god, what jack was doing was pissing her off.

for the first time, luke had brought his girlfriend april, to the lake house for the summer, and this week, y/n had the unpleasant company of aprils friend stampeding around the house for the week.

about 100% of the time, she could handle girls throwing themselves at jack at this point. she was used to it; jack was always a good boyfriend to her, and could always control himself with his endless female attention.

until today.

the july sun delivered a scorching heat down on the group as they conversed somewhere on the middle of the lake in the hughes family boat.

the typical casual conversation that y/n, jack, and his brothers had on their boat days were greatly interrupted by the ear piercing voices of april’s friends.

“jack, wanna let me drive the boat?”

“jack, the sun is too bright! can i please wear your hat?”

jack let out low chuckles at the flattery delivered to him, and y/n was doing her usual job at ignoring them.

with her dark tinted sunglasses on and her head resting on the back seat of the boat, she saw her boyfriend place his white baseball cap on one of april’s god forsaken friend.

her eyebrows furrowed; jack never fed into anything like this. the pang of anxiety lowly rested in the pit of her stomach, but she chose to ignore it.

he knew better.

“jacky, how does it look on me?”

through her dark lenses, she witnessed the ratty girl in front of her spin in front of jack, pulling the sides of her bikini up while doing so.

he made no attempt to hide his gaze on the girl in front of him, or the comment that slipped from his lips afterwards;

“looks good,” he said lowly, probably thinking that his girlfriend mere feet away from him was fast asleep from the summer heat, unaware to his tease.

the anxiety in y/n’s stomach began to surface more, a jealousy and anger she hadn’t felt in a situation like this before arising. she thought whatever of it, that she was being crazy, that she could shove this feeling down.

y/n kept her gaze straight forward, blocking out any of the chatter coming from anyone in her vicinity; her eyes locked on luke’s slow speed on the boat, conversing casually with april, unaware of the drama brewing behind them.

god, can he not drive any faster? she thought to herself, the annoyance within growing deeper and deeper.

the boat rocked along with the motion of the water beneath it, but y/n did her best to sit completely still, feeling that if she moved, the her negative emotions would swirl harder.

after a grueling 4 minute ride back to the dock, luke had secured the boat,

“everyone’s good to get off now,” he told the group, grabbing april’s hand and towel, assisting her onto the dock.

the short haired girl, the one throwing herself all over jack, the one who’s name y/n didn’t even bother to remember in their introductions, was just about to take it too far.

she stood up first, jack and y/n following behind her.

the ratty girl “dropped” her towel, allowing the perfect opportunity to bend down in front of jack,

“woops! my bad,” her voice made an embarrassing attempt to be seductive to jack, turning her head to eye him up and down.

jack let out a deep inhale, just enough to set y/n off further on her silent rage.

“all good, let me help you out.”

the girl giggled as she took jacks hand, letting it linger on his skin longer than necessary.

he paid no mind to his girlfriend behind him.

the insatiable urge to strangle the two idiots in front of y/n was barely present on her face, as she decided to take back control of the situation, and remind both of them who his significant other was.

“babe, i’m tired, do you want to come up and take a nap?”

his conversation with the short haired girl was cut with y/n’s words, he looked back at the two, contemplation in his mind, before smiling at y/n.

see? nothing to worry about-

“i uh, i think i’m gonna stay down here for a bit, don’t want to go inside yet, it’s just a really nice day y’know?”

her ears began to ring with his words, cheeks growing red as she looked over at luke and april, who shifted uncomfortably, now aware of the drama upon the dock.

“uh, yeah… yeah that’s fine.”

“i’ll be up soon, promise,” jack said as he sat down with april, luke, and her stupid friend.

y/n ignored his words, turning on her heel to walk up to the house, pace growing as soon as she was out of sight from the dock.

now that she was alone, all the feelings the thought she was suppressing were now at the forefront of her body and mind. she ran her hands through her hair, almost ready to rip it out from frustration.

y/n stormed through the house, and as she passed the living room, she was met with quinn; who was quietly reading a book with his feet kicked up on the ottoman.

before he lifted his head, his eyes went up first, gaze met with y/n’s indignant expression,

“woah, you okay, something happen on the one boat day i miss?” he said light heartedly,

“quinn, not now,”

y/n snapped at him, before slamming her bedroom door, the action echoing through the otherwise quiet house.

——————————————————————————

dinner wasn’t any better.

y/n didn’t realize how much time had gone by as she was staring at the ceiling, recounting the events of the day. jack did not keep his promise about “coming up soon” which wasn’t to the shock of y/n, considering his behavior today. he did stop in her designated room, to give her a kiss on the forehead, and to tell that dinner was ready.

and that was it.

now, she was sitting next to jack at the table, his happy chatter with his brothers, april, and company sounding like mumbles in her ears. she felt a gaze on her, hoping it was jack, but when y/n turned her head softly to confirm, he was still smiling at his continued conversation.

like nothing was wrong.

there was only one other person who wasn’t talking, and her eyesight landed right on his.

quinn.

she shifted in her seat, quickly averting their eye contact, and picked at her quarter eaten meal with her fork.

“excuse me everyone, i’m gonna go lay down,”

jack looked at y/n, giving her a half smile and no thought to her abrupt departure, before returning to his seemingly endless conversation.

y/n began to pick her plate up to take it to the sink, when quinn’s voice spoke up,

“i’ll take care of it,” the tips of his fingers pushed down lightly on the edge of her plate.

“you sure? it’s fine i don’t-”

“just go lay down.”

y/n blinked at him a few times before nodding her head, setting her plate down and shuffling to her room.

she closed the door softly this time, letting out a shaky breath as she sat on the edge of the plush bed. her head was beginning to throb, not sure if it was from lack of food or just from the complete and total anxiety jack was giving her.

——————————————————————————

y/n scrolled mindlessly on her phone, again losing the track of time with the state she was in.

1:19am.

the dryness in her throat was becoming more present as she came down from her brain fog, deciding to clear herself with a glass of water.

y/n slipped into the kitchen, only the warm dim glow from the microwave light allowing her to see. the glass cups lightly clinked together as she pulled one out, then setting it down to fill up.

the refrigerator hummed softly, barely breaking the silence through the house. then, a raspy voice spoke behind her,

“what’re you doing up?”

y/n whipped her head around, almost dropping and shattering the glass of water in her hand,

“jesus christ quinn, you scared the shit out of me!”

she set down the glass to put a hand to her chest, an attempt to slow down the spike in her heart rate.

quinn let out a small, quiet laugh, “sorry, i thought you heard me.”

“no,” she let out a huff, “i didn’t,” y/n smiled back at him gently as the beating in her chest settled.

“so, what’s wrong?”

quinn was quick to change the conversation to put her on the spot, y/n’s lips parting as she thought of her next words.

“nothing, i don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“yes you do.”

y/n scoffed, “you really have a habit of interrupting me don’t you?”

“stop avoiding the question. what’s wrong? talk to me, y/n.”

the two stared at one another, having an unspoken battle with each other,

y/n broke first.

she swallowed, knowing the words about to spill out of her mouth were going to come shaky and scattered; she didn’t want quinn, or anyone for that matter, to know the state her mind was at. y/n hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, retelling the day to quinn.

“it was… it was jack. today. he was just letting april’s stupid fucking friend flirt with him! and-”

“alana?”

she shot him a deep scowl, “don’t interrupt me to tell me what her stupid name is!”

quinn raised his hands in defeat, “sorry, sorry, keep going,”

“he let her wear his hat, she bent over in front of him and he said nothing, and as you could tell from earlier today, he didn’t even come up to the house with me when i asked…”

her words trailed off shakily, y/n felt hot, wet tears flow down her cheeks, slightly blurring her vision, she looked down, unable to meet quinn’s gaze she felt burning into her face.

“y/n… i’m sorry. he’s a shithead for that,”

he stepped closer to her, lessening the distance between them,

“y/n.”

she hummed in response, sniffles coming from her, still refusing to look up at him,

“y/n look at me.”

y/n knew how persistent quinn was, and he definitely was not going to let her get away with not looking at him. though it felt like lifting a ton of bricks, her glossy eyes looked up to meet his.

quinn’s eyes flickered all over her face, reading her sorrow expression. he brought his hand up to meet her face, gently using his thumb to brush away any fallen tears on her tinted cheeks.

“you know, i really hate it when you cry,” he cooed softly, still wiping away the spilling tears, paying more attention to her in these mere minutes than jack had been all day.

“i’m so mad at myself, i should’ve said something, i let it all happen in front of me,” y/n said, her quiet frustrations let out only for quinn’s ears to hear.

“hey, hey, no. you shouldn’t have even been put in that position, don’t blame yourself, okay?” he placed his hands on either sides of the counter, locking her in. his voice being stern but still soft, a tough love kind of talk.

y/n’s heart beated faster as she became hyper aware of how close their bodies were, feeling the warmth radiating off of him.

she wanted to knock herself in the head for feeling this way, but her heightened distaste for jack in the moment, quinn’s messy hair combined with his beard and tired eyes made him so sinfully appealing.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t have,”

y/n felt almost awkward in this moment, especially it being her boyfriends older brother. there was no way for her to move without being even closer to him.

“god, y/n… cant believe that… if i had you… i’d never let that happen,”

quinn’s tired eyes turned lustful by the second, going up and down y/n’s body before flickering between her own eyes and lips.

“quinn,” she let out with a breath, “you cant say things like that, you know you can’t,”

y/n couldn’t help herself from matching quinn’s motion, unable to tear away from looking at his full lips.

“after the shit he pulled today, i think i’m safe to do whatever the hell i want,”

the gentle demeanor in his voice was replaced with seduction, bringing his face closer to hers, close enough for their breaths to mingle.

“say the words y/n, i wont do anything you don’t want me to do. say the words and i’ll stop.”

she was between a rock and a hard place. it’s not like jack had outright cheated in front of her, and she would feel horrible doing something like that to him. however, his actions were inexcusable, and he saw not an inch of an issue with what he was doing. and at the exact same time, quinn was ready to be all over her. hell, he’s practically admitting to wanting his little brother’s girlfriend. in this moment, he could give her anything.

fuck it.

this is what he gets, she thought to herself. it’s not like he would find out anyway. no one would.

“i want you quinn.”

the words rolled off her tongue faster than her mind let her think about the consequences, and in no time, quinn captured y/n’s lips in his, securing his hands on to her waist.

the two kissed sloppily in the kitchen, out in the open, with too much opportunity to get caught. neither of them cared.

y/n’s hands found a home in his hair, quinn emitting a low groan as she gently tugged at his waves.

she felt a heat growing between her legs, and an attempt to close them for relief was blocked by quinn pushing them back open with his hips.

y/n gasped, allowing quinn’s tongue entry, and as he explored her mouth with his, she felt him growing harder against her core, making the wetness in her shorts more difficult to ignore.

quinn panted heavily as he pulled away, still gripping at her waist, fingers hugging the bottom hem of her shirt,

“can i take this off?”

she buzzed at his words, nodding vigorously. with her consent, he raised the shirt above her body, y/n lifting her arms in assistance.

quinn wasted no time to kiss down her neck to her now exposed upper chest, sitting perfectly pretty in her bra. he sucked and nipped at the bare skin, earning quiet moans from her soft lips.

“mm—fuck quinn,” y/n threw her head back in pleasure, giving more room for quinn to litter her chest with marks. she didn’t even care if they were going to bruise tomorrow or who was going to saw. everyone else was on the back burner of her mind.

her praise only made him rougher, sucking harder into her skin, feeling himself getting more and more rowdy by the second.

his lips went up to claim hers again, tapping her thigh as a signal to wrap her legs around his waist. she listened, hooking herself around him. quinn lifted her up effortlessly, their kiss not being broken as he peeked his eyes open in a tenth of a second to see their way to his room.

with one hand tucked under y/n’s ass, he turned the knob to his bedroom door, stepping into the room before closing the door behind him with a light kick.

quinn’s legs met the edge of the bed, and he threw her down before making himself pry his lips from her’s, plump and slick from his.

“you’re still okay with his?” he asked, his thumb drawing circles on her hips.

“more than okay, please quinn. i need more.”

he nodded, taking a step back to take all of her in with his eyes.

she looked at him confused for a moment, before he talked,

“strip.”

she swallowed heavily, ready to obey his words. y/n wiggled out of her shorts, leaving her skin only covered by a black bra and panties.

“i said strip. all the way.”

her heart was about to come out of her chest, all of it was beginning to feel real, and that she was about to be naked and on display for jack’s brother.

only hearing the beating in her chest, quinn watched as y/n unhooked her bra first, tits bouncing with the action, and he thought he could cum in his pants right then and there.

y/n sat down on the bed, staring deeply into quinn’s eyes, slipping her black panties down her half parted legs, pussy wet and glistening from the moonlight shining through the window.

“fuck,” he whispered, unable to control his hand from falling to his crotch, beginning to palm himself through his shorts.

with a single hand, quinn took his shirt off, dipping his head down to kiss her naked thighs. y/n shuddered at his action, his kisses being everywhere except where she desperately needed them to be.

he hovered just above her core, “can i?”

“quinn please stop fucking asking and just do it,” y/n begged, squirming under him, desperate for his touch.

he licked a long stripe down her wet folds, y/n unable to control the guttural moan that escaped from her lips. her back arched in pleasure at the feeling of quinn’s lips sucking on her puffy clit, aching for attention.

he couldn’t stop; he was devouring her like it was his death row and she was his last meal, already addicted to the taste of her pussy on his tongue.

quinn pushed her hips down, sticking his tongue in her and his nose bumping against her clit with each motion. y/n felt knots twisting and forming in her stomach, a strong release forming, one that jack had never even came close to making her feel.

“mmph, shit quinn— gonna fucking cum, oh— my fuck,”

profanities spilled out of y/n’s mouth, but her pleasure was cut short as his dripping lips pulled away from her aching core, craving his touch.

she whined at the loss of contact, only to be met with quinn peeling off his shorts and underwear, his throbbing dick aching with desire from his tip.

“when i make you cum, i want it to be on my dick, pretty girl.”

y/n felt like she could’ve exploded right then and there, but she bit her lip, moving closer to the edge of the bed, giving quinn better access to line up with her.

he ran his dick between her wet folds a few times before inserting himself in her, the two let out gracious moans at the mutual pleasure.

quinn started slow, hips rolling back and forth, before quickening his pace to a pornographic speed.

his lips hooked onto y/n’s once again, sloppy and wet, both groaning into each others mouths with delight. in the kiss he captured both her wrists, pinning them above her head.

quinn broke the kiss to look at her with his brows furrowed, concentrated on fucking y/n senseless. her bottom lip was between her teeth, tits bouncing with the speed of his thrusts.

“fuck y/n, you feel so good on my dick, can he ever get you like this? a moaning fucked out mess? hm?”

his words barely registered in her ears, body buzzing as his dick continued to destroy her pussy.

“no, no, mm— you fuck me so much better quinn,” y/n did her best not to scream it, still aware that the other people in the house had the potential to hear them.

“gonna— cum— y/n— shit,” quinn huffed out between thrusts. she also felt the now familiar knots forming in her stomach, her release about to come.

his movements became sloppy as his release coated her walls, and at the same time, she painted his dick with her own.

they felt euphoric, quinn pulled out of her slowly, groaning as his dick came out of her.

y/n laid out on the bed panting with closed eyes, hearing the light flicker on from quinn’s connected bathroom.

she felt a wet towel meet her sensitive core, hissing at the feeling.

“sorry, just wanna clean you up first,”

y/n looked at quinn while he cleaned her with concentration, his body glistening with sweat and his messy hair slightly sticking to his forehead.

“thank you, quinn,”

y/n was breathless watching quinn go back into the bathroom, her chest still rapidly rising and falling. she felt herself grow more tired with each passing minute.

quinn came back from the bathroom with a different pair of underwear on, holding out a pair of his boxers to put on. y/n gladly accepted, slipping them up her body. she grabbed her bra from the floor, hooking it back on.

after she was partly dressed, he delivered her a sweet, soft kiss to her lips. different than any kind of kiss they had so far, this one was deep and loving; his hands gently cupping her face.

“stay with me,”

quinn’s proposition took her by surprise, thinking he was going to send her back to her room after all this, but no.

“quinn, i really shouldn’t, it’s not a good ide-”

“you and jack can figure your shit out later. as of right now, you’re mine.”

he was right and she knew it. he claimed her, and there was definitely going to be some kind of consequence for this. either way y/n and jack were going to have to figure their shit out, but to her, that was an issue for the morning.

“okay, i’ll stay.”

quinn smiled at her, planting a kiss on her forehead. he peeled away at his thick blue comforter, leaving space for the both of them to crawl inside. y/n felt herself more comfortable falling asleep with quinn than she did with jack, whatever that meant. but she didn’t care. his body was tangled with hers, falling asleep to the soft beat of his heart.

pt. 2

——————————————————————————

xoxo, kaia

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cloudcountry · 8 months ago

Note

I sent my request via dms but I'm still sending an ask for the sake of it, woops

Remember to hydrate and unshrimp :}

SUMMARY: idia doesn't how how to react when you show up at his door late at night and reveal something as earth shattering as your most recent breakup.

COMMENTS: we talked about this in dms but i hope you like the finished product!! <3

I CANT TELL IF THIS OR ANGST OR FLUFF. MAN.

reading this against its def angst oops

idia has issues but you're gonna get him through them trust 💪

The sound of mindless clicking, fans whirring, and Idia’s steady breathing are the only sounds that can be heard this late at night. It’s not that the residents of Ignihyde are sleeping—no, they’re all tucked away in their rooms, either tinkering with new tech or in the same position Idia is now. His lower back starts to ache from his slouched position in his chair, and so he straightens out his back to ease the pain. His spine cracks once, twice, thrice before settling down, and Idia promptly falls back into his old posture.

He briefly hears your voice in his mind, a reminder to sit up straight and not surf the web too late. He blinks slowly, briefly considering obeying your imaginary command, before he rationalizes using his PC more because you’re not actually here, you’re out with your boyfriend right now.

Or so he thinks.

It’s as though he summoned you, your knock on his door, a secret knock that only you would ever use. Idia insisted on a precaution like that so he’d know when it was safe to open the door and when it wasn’t. So far you hadn’t abused the privilege, never using it when you had friends with you. In fact, Idia was fairly certain you’d created a new knocking pattern recently when you had friends with you, just so he could know it was okay to respond but he didn’t have to open the door if he didn’t want to.

It's the knock that tells him you're alone.

So this time, he wants to.

He stands up, pushing his gamer chair to the side as his joints creak from being held in one position for far too long. He stalks over to the door, shaking hands reaching towards the doorknob. Because of your boyfriend, he’s always kept his feelings about you under wraps, wanting your happiness first and foremost. Besides, in what world would anyone be interested in him? He wouldn’t even want to associate with you like that, the thought of dragging you into his darkness was too much.

The doorknob turns and his door creaks open, a sliver of light spilling into his room until the rest of it is blocked by you. Idia opens his mouth to ask what you’re doing at his door this late, especially since you have a boyfriend and if anyone should be hanging out with you this late it really should be him and—

And—

And you have never looked more serious. It makes the words die in his throat, his lips parted like a fool.

“Do you have time to talk?” you ask softly, shifting from foot to foot in your pajamas and oh Great Seven, did you walk across campus like that? There were so many bugs out at night and snakes too, and what if you tripped because you couldn’t see where you were going? You came alone, WHY would you come alone this late? You could have gotten hurt—

His hands are twitching as your eyes drift down towards them, watching silently as they shake towards and away from you, like he wants to touch you but isn’t sure if he can. You initiate, taking his hands in yours and gently pushing him back into his room, nudging the door shut with your foot as quietly as possible.

“Um...what are you doing here this late?” Idia asks softly, his hands in yours, still twitching restlessly.

“I had to tell you something. It’s nothing bad on your part, before you start overthinking. It’s something to do with my boyfriend, now ex.” you say, each word purposeful and slow, like you’re picking your words very carefully in your sleepy haze.

“You broke up?” Idia murmurs, ignoring the way his heart jumps in his throat.

Of course he’s happy you’re single now. Of course he is. But that doesn't mean now is the time to start fantasizing about actually dating you. Oh who is he kidding, he wouldn’t be starting that, he’s been doing that. The last thing he needs to his feelings getting in the way and making things hard for you, you’ve been his best friend for years now, ever since he came to NRC you’ve always been in his corner, even though sometimes you don’t get to see each other that often and he’s not going to fuck this up because he likes you more than he should, no way is he going to fuck this up—

“Yeah. We broke up a few weeks ago.” you say, moving your hands from his and pressing them into your thighs.

“Oh.” Idia says dumbly.

You smile weakly, glancing around his room before gesturing to his bed. Idia feels his heart in his throat again—it’s the only place with room to sit, yeah, but it’s so messy and oh Great Seven what if his manga makes you think he’s weird and you never want to speak to him again.

You don’t even spare a glance at his mess. You just sit down and clench your hands in your lap, watching him as he sits down next to you. His eyes land on your hands, white knuckled and shaking, and it squeezes his heart when he thinks about just what your boyfriend could have done to hurt you like this.

Your ex, he means. Your ex. He’s never going to be your boyfriend again, even if he apologizes, because as much as you’re hurting right now Idia knows you'll only come back stronger for it.

It’s one of the reasons why he admires you so much.

“It...wasn’t something I was planning on broadcasting. And as far as I know, he hasn’t told anyone either. Not that he’s good at telling people things.” you remark bitterly, a frown twisting your lips.

“Was he not talking to you?” Idia asks, balling his hands into fists in his lap much like you.

“No. He wasn’t.” you sigh, looking down at his floor, “He wasn’t at all.”

His room grows silent again, but Idia hopes you don’t hear the gears in his brain turning. He wants to make things better for you, he wants to make sure all the time you have left with each other is good for you, he wants to make sure you can live the rest of your life happy with the knowledge that you’ll never have to think about this guy.

He wants you to be happy so he can let you go after you two become seniors.

“Is...there anything I can do?” he mumbles, eyes darting around the room for a distraction, “Um, I made a mini planetarium projection for Ortho since he likes the stars so much and I think I have it somewhere in here—”

He knows exactly where it is. Like he’d ever forget.

“—I have some games, um...which ones do you like? I probably have something—”

He’s fairly certain you’d love the game sitting on the bottom shelf of his desk. It reminds him of you whenever he plays it.

“—or would you like to watch anime? Read a manga? You can leave too, that’s okay, just let me walk you home so you don’t get hurt—”

Not again, at least. But he’ll do anything to keep you here with him.

You cut him off with a small giggle, your balled up fists now pressed up against your face in relaxed palms, covering your mouth as your eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I’d love to stay. Thank you, Idia.” you smile softly and move your hands away from your mouth, and Idia feels his heart jump into his throat again because of course you’d know.

You’ve always known.

He swallows back a wave of sadness as his mind reminds me once again that he will leave you one day, and that day will come sooner than he wants it too, that he’s cursed and he shouldn’t taint you too—

“Anything is good as long as it’s with you.” you laugh quietly, falling back onto his bed with a soft thump.

It’s like you were always meant to be there.

#rubia <3 #auburn's fics <3 #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #disney twisted wonderland #gn reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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breezeflows · 5 months ago

Text

The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 3

WOOP WOOP CHAPTER 3 IS HERE AND BOY IS IT JUICY🫣 On a serious note though, we are finally getting into some of the exciting bits of the story!! I’m hoping by the next chapter we will finally be back in the present. No more sad flashbacks!! Also y’all writing Lizzy is genuinely my favorite. If this fic wasn’t about Ford I’d be wifing her up instead😔 Anyways- here’s chapter 3 you lovely souls!

Themes: Consumption of alcohol (reader lowkey gets wasted), major hangover, bill himself is a warning, suggestiveness kind of?? idk, heartache, lizzy is overall an amazing friend, alllll the angst and feelings, injuries, etc okay enjoy!

The drive to Lizzy’s place is quiet, the steady hum of the car engine and the sound of raindrops against the windshield the only background noise. You sit in the passenger seat, watching the trees pass by through the window as you fiddle with the wedding band around your finger. Lizzy glances at you occasionally, a small frown on her face as she senses your mood. She remains silent for most of the ride, giving you space to process your emotions if need be.

It's not long before the car rolls to a stop in front of her apartment building. You reach around to gather your belongings from the backseat and step out into the rainy afternoon. Lizzy follows suit, bright pink umbrella in hand as she leads you towards the entrance.

Once inside the building, she unlocks the door to her apartment building and the two of you usher inside. The soft yellow light of the living room envelopes you, creating a cozy atmosphere in stark contrast to the gloominess outside.

Lizzy begins to kick off her shoes, hanging her keys as she silently studies your face. She can see the turmoil in your eyes, and the uncertainty you’re trying to hide.

“So,” she says gently, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

Your eyes snap out of the daze they were in as you look over at Lizzy, giving her a weak smile.

“Oh, yeah I guess. Things went a lot better than I thought they would.”

Her expression relaxes at your response, a hint of relief showing on her face.

“That’s good,” she says as she walks over to the couch and plops down on it, gesturing for you to do the same. “I was half-expecting a tearful scene or something, honestly.”

You manage a light chuckle at her remark, plopping down on the couch next to her. You pull your knees to your chest as you grab a blanket draped across the back of it, wrapping it around you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Ford took it pretty well, actually. Better than I expected.”

Lizzy raises a brow as she leans against the back cushions, her arms crossing. “Girl, he better take it well after what he said to you. If it had been me, I would’ve dropped his ass on the spot.”

You can’t help but let out a small snort of laughter at her words, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips for the first time in a while. It’s a relief to have Lizzy’s no-nonsense attitude around, her bluntness serving as a much-needed dose of honesty.

“Yeah, yeah Liz, I know.” you admit, the smile still lingering on your face. “I was a little tempted.”

Lizzy grins, satisfied with your response as she reaches over and pats your knee supportively.

“As you should,” she says with a nod. “You don’t deserve treatment like that of any kind, no matter how important his research is to him.”

You frown slightly at her words, opting to pick at the blanket below as a distraction.

“Yeah..”

Lizzy watches your expression carefully, sensing your discomfort. She tilts her head slightly, her gaze searching your face.

“But you don’t quite agree, do you?” she probes gently.

You let out a sigh, unsure how to articulate your feelings as you continue to fiddle with the fabric of the blanket.

“It’s just… complicated Liz,” you say, your voice tinged with guilt and frustration. “Yes, I’m hurt and angry with him, but I also understand where he’s coming from. We’ve been together almost our whole lives, and this is all he has ever worked towards. His research is important to him, and he’s under a lot of pressure.”

Lizzy nods slowly as she listens to your words, her expression a mix of understanding and concern. She reaches over and places a hand on top of yours, stopping your nervous fidgeting.

“I get that Y/N, I do,” she says quietly. “And I’m not saying he’s completely in the wrong. But you shouldn’t have to feel like an afterthought in his life either. That’s not fair to you.”

Your eyes brim with tears at her response, your hand twisting and taking hers tightly.

“I know,” you say, your voice threatening to break. “I just wish we could fix things..”

Lizzy squeezes your hand as your tear-filled eyes meet hers.

“And you will, Y/N. It’ll just take some time.”

A small, wobbly smile forms on your lips at her reassurance, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. The hope that you might be able to fix things with Ford, to find a way to bridge the gap that’s widened between you both, is a small but significant comfort.

“Thank you, Liz,” you murmur, your voice still shaky. “I really hope you’re right.”

Lizzy stands with a smile, her hand pulling away from yours and resting on your shoulder.

“I know I’m right chick, because you two love each other. I’ve seen it.”

Your heart warms at her confidence, a soft smile forming on your lips as you nod.

“Now, how about some pizza?”

The few weeks you spend with Lizzy fly by, days passing in a blur of movies, late-night conversations, and plenty of chocolate induced comfort eating. As the final night of your stay approaches, Lizzy turns to you with a sly grin on her face.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been pretty reclusive the past couple of weeks, but it’s your last night here and I refuse to let you spend it watching crappy movies in my living room.”

She places her hands on her hips and gives you a stern look.

“We’re going out for drinks and that’s final.”

You mope as you walk into her view from the bathroom, your voice annoyed and pleading as you speak.

“Liz, I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m a married woman, and this dress feels less than... modest.”

Lizzy rolls her eyes, her expression clearly unconvinced.

“Girl, you’re not here to pick up someone, you’re here to have fun. And as for the dress I picked out for you, it looks fantastic. Stop overthinking it.”

She gives you a onceover, inspecting your outfit.

“Besides, I’d like to see anyone who tries hitting on you tonight.”

You pout as you watch her, pulling down your dress so it covers your knees.

“I don’t know how Ford would feel about this..”

Lizzy scoffs, shaking her head.

“Ford’s not here, and we both know he should be the last person you’re trying to impress right now. You’re still young, and attractive Y/N, you deserve to enjoy yourself for one night without him on your mind. Not to mention you’ve got to live your life without kids while you can. I know the two of you have talked about it. ”

She grabs the hem of your dress and tugs it back up, flashing you a defiant look.

“And if he has a problem with you having fun, he can talk to me.”

You sigh as you give in, knowing Lizzy wouldn’t be changing her mind about your all’s plans for the night.

“Fine, fine. But we’re not staying out too late, okay?”

Lizzy grins, victorious.

“That’s more like it! And don’t worry, I promise we won’t be out until dawn,” she assures you. “Just a few drinks, maybe a little dancing, and then we’ll come back here. You trust me, right?”

“More than anything Liz.”

And that’s how you find yourself at the bar now, one too many drinks in and slumped against Lizzy’s shoulder.

She laughs at your state, her own cheeks flushed from drinking. She slings an arm around your shoulders, keeping you upright and steady in the booth the two of you occupied.

“Goodness chick, are you already trashed? We’ve barely been here an hour!” she teases, her voice lighthearted and amused.

You grumble something in response, your head spinning from the alcohol in your system. You take another sip from your glass, your tongue loose and inhibitions lowered.

“I blame you,” you slur, pointing an accusatory finger at Lizzy. “You’re a bad influence.”

Lizzy laughs loudly at your accusation, her eyes sparkling. “No one forced you to down those shots, Y/N,” she says, sliding out of the booth with ease. “I’m going to get you some water, alright? You stay right here in your seat.”

You nod lazily at her words, the idea of staying where you are very appealing. You watch groggily as she strides away, her bell bottoms and flare top in tow. She weaves through the crowd to make her way to the counter, your eyes becoming heavy.

Just as you’re starting to doze off from the alcohol, a presence suddenly sits down in the booth across from you. You blink in surprise, your vision clearing slightly as you focus on the newcomer.

Your eyes widen as you recognize your husband’s face, his features strangely serious and intense as he stares back at you. But there’s something off about him… Something otherworldly in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice cool and calculated. “If it isn’t dear Y/N. You look a little worse for wear.”

Your vision blurs as you grip the side of the table, your words slurred as you speak.

“F.. Ford?”

Ford smiles widely, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. The expression is slightly unfamiliar, different from the familiar warmth you’re used to. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“In the flesh, honey,” he drawls, his voice smooth and flirtatious.

“But I see you’ve had quite a few drinks already. Feeling a little dazed? I wonder how Sixer would feel about me seeing you in this state and not him. Hilarious!”

Your arm trembles weakly as you hold yourself up, vision blurring in and out as you sway slightly in your seat.

“Wha.. What? Why are you.. here..?”

His lips curl into a smug smirk as he eyes your disheveled form, eyes lingering on your exposed skin, clearly enjoying your confusion and intoxication.

“Oh, I had a little chat with Fordsy earlier. He agreed to let me take the reins for a few hours…”

He gives a careless shrug. “You know how he is. All work and no play. Figured I’d take advantage of the situation, hell, I even got him a new tattoo!”

You sit there, dumbfounded and wavering in and out of consciousness as your mind tried to process what Ford was talking about.

Ford’s – or rather, Bill’s – eyes rake over you again, giving an exaggerated sigh before his lips turned into a sly grin.

“You really are a sight for sore eyes, I can see why Sixer married you.”

Your thoughts are still spinning from the alcohol, making it hard to focus on the conversation. You struggle to keep yourself upright, your body feeling heavy and numb.

Bill notices your dazed state, chuckling as he gives a mockingly sympathetic tone.

“You look a little out of it, darling. You really shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Especially considering how easy it’d be to trick you into a deal right now.”

Your mind races with confusion as you stand up weakly, your gut telling you something wasn’t right as you sway back and forth, (Or maybe it was the alcohol) your vision blurring as you scan the place in search of Lizzy.

“Going somewhere? Those human legs of yours don’t look very stable!”

You wobble forward, ignoring his protests as you keep moving.

“You really should listen to me if you want to avoid that nasty bruise tomorrow!”

He calls out, and before you know it you trip, and everything goes black.

Hours later… aka early morning.

You slowly open your eyes, your head pounding and your memories fuzzy. You realize you’re lying on a couch in Lizzy’s apartment, a cool cloth pressed over what you assume to be a large tender bruise on your forehead.

Lizzy is sitting perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. She notices your eyes flutter open and lets out a relieved sigh.

“Oh thank god,” she mutters. “You had me worried for a second there. I stayed up with you all night waiting for you to wake up.”

“Liz?” you mumble, head pounding. “What the hell happened? My head is killing me..”

Her expression softens at your groggy murmur, her hand reaching out instinctively to brush the hair away from your face.

“Hey, take it easy,” she says, voice low and soothing. “You took a pretty nasty fall back at the bar. Hit your head on a table on the way down.”

Your eyes widen as your memory jogs itself.

“What..? Wait, Ford.. Ford was there?”

Lizzy freezes, her expression guarded at the mention of Ford. She averts her gaze, focusing her attention on the cloth that she’s holding against your forehead.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, her voice hesitant. “He showed up towards the end of the night when I went to grab you a water… You don’t remember?”

You think to yourself for a moment, your memory patchy and vague.

“I mean, I kind of do. But it was weird? Did something happen?”

Lizzy is silent, her gaze still firmly averted from yours. She adjusts the cloth, pressing it against your head with a little more pressure than necessary.

“Nothing happened,” she finally says, her voice tight. “You just had a little too much to drink and tripped, that’s all.”

Her words are curt and dismissive, clearly trying to downplay the situation. But there’s something in her expression, a flicker of unease that betrays her true emotions.

She glances at you briefly, her eyes meeting yours for a split second before moving back to your injury.

“Lizzy..?” you say, silently pleading with her to tell you the full truth.

She exhales slowly, her shoulders slumping in resignation. She knows you’re not going to let this go, and she owes you the truth.

“Alright, fine,” she mutters avoiding your gaze. “When I got back to the booth, it was exactly when you had fell..”

You listen closely, sitting yourself up slightly.

“I had noticed Ford when I got there, sure, but when I went to go help you..”

Lizzy pauses, a frown forming on her face as she continues.

“Ford laughed,” she says as her eyes meet yours, full of concern and.. fear? “And not in a lighthearted way, in a cruel mocking way Y/N..”

Lizzy lowers the cloth from your head, placing it in her lap as you sit there, dumbfounded.

“He was just… enjoying the view, I guess,” She mutters bitterly. “Like you were some kind of joke, I don’t know Y/N. It was fucking weird, really fucking weird. I didn’t like it. He laughed as if he was the one who had done it.”

Lizzy trails off, brows furrowed as she clenches her fists. While you, on the other hand, are utterly speechless.

Your mind reels with this new information, struggling to reconcile the image of Ford – laughing coldly and mockingly at your predicament - with the caring, affectionate husband you’ve known him to be your whole life.

“I… I don’t understand,” you stutter, your voice small and confused.

“He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that. Not Ford.”

But as you say those words, you can’t help but recall the other strange things that had happened earlier that night. Ford’s detached demeanor, his unfamiliar choice of words, the way he seemed so cold and calculating. Your heart clenches in your chest at the thought, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Had something happened over the few weeks you’ve been gone? Did Ford get too deep in his research? Something wasn’t right.

As you try to make sense of the situation, Lizzy watches you with a mix of compassion and concern. She knows this is incredibly tough for you to hear, but she also seems to have her own worries about the situation.

“I don’t know Y/N,” she says quietly, her hands twisting in her lap. “It was just… so not him. I don’t know what the hell happened. But I’ve never seen him act like that before. It’s like he was a different person.”

Her voice trails off, leaving the two of you in silence as you’re both lost in thought.

Eventually, Lizzy breaks the silence, her voice sympathetic as she places a hand on top of yours.

“How about this, you rest up today, and when you’re ready, I’ll take you to the cabin to get some answers from Ford? Only if you feel comfortable, of course.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside of you.

“Alright,” you murmur. “I’m still feeling pretty rough, but I’d like to see him… tonight, if possible.”

Despite your confusion and worry, you know that facing your husband and talking with him is the only way to get answers. The answers that you crave so desperately in hopes that it’ll mend your breaking heart - and marriage.

Lizzy gives you a reassuring nod.

“Of course,” she says gently. “You rest up, and I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.”

She stands up, gently readjusting the cloth on your head.

“Try to get some sleep, okay?”

You nod, laying yourself back down.

You’re going to need it to cross the bridge that awaits you tonight.

READER AND BILL INTERACTION WOOP WOOP!! Also I’m not gonna lie, I feel like I messed up the timeline a little bit but I’m just gonna go for it. Thank you for reading! :)

Tag List: @artistic-gato @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum @violetvsworld @inquiit @catr4dora

#gravity falls #gravityfallsxreader #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls dipper #mabel pines #stanley pines #gravity falls fanfiction #ford pines x reader #ford pines #the book of bill #bill cipher #stanford pines x you

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moralesluvr · 2 years ago

Note

what do you think miguel’s reaction would be if you told him that he scares you?

oh boy.

you're safe with me ft. miguel o'hara

♡ pairings & aus: miguel o'hara x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: after getting into a heated argument with your boyfriend, you tell him that he's scaring you, which crumbles his heart ♡ warnings: miguel being OD per usual bc why are you yelling rn? angst with a happy ending ♡ a/n: first miggy fic woop woop ur the best for requesting this! love ya ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

YOU WEREN'T CRYING UNTIL HE SAID IT.

You weren't crying until Miguel starting lashing out at you, angrily balling up wads of important papers and hurling them at the wall, whether you happened to be a barrier between it and the papers, it wasn't really his concern right now. All he cared about was getting this new burst of anger out, and of course, it had to be something to do with you.

Miguel loved you, you knew this. He's said it, he's shown it to you, and he has no problem admitting it to other people. But sometimes you felt as if a person really loved you, why on earth would they be acting like this?

He stood behind his work station, fists angrily swelling as they curled themselves up into a ball. You could hear him breathing, but he refused to speak to you, because he knew that he would say things that he'd immediately regret if he did.

You, on the other hand, were standing up against the wall, now useless papers littered at your feet. Sniffled sobs ricocheted off of the brickwork behind you, your tears behind caressed by the wood floors that you stood on. You started for the door before stopping in your tracks, "Miguel. Look at me."

At first, he doesn't. But when he doesn't hear your footsteps fading to walk out, he slowly pivots on his heel, walking over to you heavily. You look up at his deep brown eyes, murmuring softly, "You....Y-You scared me. And I'm not...I'm not talking about past tense, either. You scare me, Miguel. I am scared of you."

You watched as the man before you crumbled at the mention of you being scared at him. Never in your life have you seen him look so sad, so downhearted, like he had been defeated by his own actions. His eyes are glossy as he reaches for you, and you subtly flinch, but he picks up on it.

"I..." He starts, biting the inside of his cheek at a loss for words. His big, calloused hand comes up to hold your cheek, which you sink into his palm when he caresses you. "I'm sorry, cariño, I-I didn't mean to...scare you." He whispers the last part of the sentence like it's a plague, as if he was disgusted by the contents of your conversation. You sniffle and look up at him through wet eyelashes, "'S okay."

"No, no, it's not." Miguel protests, shaking his head at your sweet response. He then brings both hands up to your face as he holds you dearly, so tender, as if he's scared to cause any harm to you.

He continues to talk, "Ay coño, mi preciosa. I hope you're not afraid of me-- I don't want you to be. You shouldn't have to be. You deserve better than that."

"Then be better, Miguel." You stated, your jaw hardening. He picks up on that and he rubs his thumb along your jawline and cheeks, murmuring sweet nothings and apologies to you. He nods,

"I will, I promise, I will."

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chrissytalia // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @wisepoetrycheesecake // @clearskiiiess // @d3atht3hek1d // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @caulifloweron // @aizawassimpblog // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @ishqani // @mookiebut

𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ♧: @lipstickstainedshells // @mmst4rz // @ilyless // @lordbugs

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muntitled · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲!?

Didn't anybody tell him being back in the booth will leave him singing solo?

Pairings: Lee Jihoon x Fem!reader | Slight!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A kink confession in couple's therapy might just save your relationship

Warnings: Established Relationship, Insecurities, Gender Roles, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Masturbation, Dom/Sub undertones, MeanDom!Jihoon, Sub!Reader, Innocence Kink, Slight DDLG, Ownership Kink, Hair Pulling, Spitting kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Humiliation, Submission Kink, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Oral Sex (Male rec), Breeding Kink, Slight!Hate sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Mine | Beyonce

Woops

"I'm aware that I'm on this mission to get my boyfriend to actually want to fuck me again but why does it feel like I've already failed on the very first step?" A whine so childish, and so petulant rips itself from the depths of your throat but Jihoon's running shower silences the pathetic noise.

While he showers, you're left sitting on the floor surrounded by a graveyard of designer lingerie. A too small Victoria's Secret set is immediately abandoned in its box, leaving you howling into the phone as you wriggle yourself into the complicated underwear.

Your confidence wanes as you adjust to the intricate bows and string of the set, wincing as you pull up the pink garter belt until it's clasped around your thighs. Soon enough, you're padding across the floor of your walk-in closet, hesitantly approaching a mirror.

"I mean, this says 'slut' but what if 'slut' isn't what he's attracted to?" Your hand curls tightly around the width of your phone, "Jihoon is an anomaly! What if I end up making a complete and utter fool of myself?" The mirror is nestled between Jihoon's clothing rack harbouring all his neatly pressed designer pieces. You let the sight of his intimidating fashion waver your already fragile confidence.

"Are you hearing yourself?" Scoffs Mingyu through your phone's speakers, "What man has ever in the history of the universe not been attracted to 'slutty'? I feel like that might be a prerequisite in terms of the origins of the word." He says in a lax, calm manner, "Woozi'll just be happy to see boobs and ass becuase that's usually how a guy's brain goes. Or how mine goes at least."

Despite Mingyu's assurances, your arms are still folded over your scantily covered breasts while you cradle your phone in the air. "I don't know," your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. "You didn't hear him today at counseling, Mingyu. I feel like our therapist might actually hate us." You continue to cradle your torso, forcing yourself not to flinch at the memory of your earlier session of couples therapy.

How far away Jihoon had felt despite being seated right beside you, like a gleaming, stoic-faced monolith. You feel as though you have been living in nothing but a perpetual winter, forever trying to please Jihoon, your boyfriend, but always falling short in front of Woozi, the entertainer. Work, work, work, on his mind meant that you were left to entertain your own wants by your lonesome. Even more harrowig, is the excuse he had given your therapist.

"She's always in boss mode," Jihoon's tone was as cold as ice, refusing to spare you even a single glance as he faced the therapist ahead, "And that's one of things I love about her, yes. Her drive and determination makes us compatible because I know I'm the same-"

A scoff slips past your lips at that point, making Jihoon's fist clench on the arm rest as you snootily interjected, "Don't misconstrue." You said, "He works more than me," and it was the truth as far as you believed it. Yes, you would gladly admit to neglecting a few key elements of your relationship in the face of your career, but never had you ever made Jihoon feel microscopic in your pursuits. Not like how he made you feel.

"It's important to listen to each other without interjecting." The therapist calmly scolded, leaving you grumbling in your seat, "You'd be surprised at how much could truly be accomplished by simply listening to each other,"

You were truly ready to tell that old lady to go to hell but something strange happened, and Jihoon finally opened his mouth, unburdening himself with what has truly been bothering him in his relationships as of late.

"It's just," He swears lightly under his breath, which does a terrific job in garnering yout attention. You peek up from underneath your lashes and you're stunned to hear him say, "I just wish she'd understand that it wouldn't burn down the foundations of feminism if she'd just," Jihoon's jaw ticked as he displayed the very first signs of emotion, "-Just let me take that load off for a bit…"

"In what way?" The therapist asked, sensing the nearness of a eureka moment. She treaded carefully, in fear of scaring Jihoon back into his shell. Thankfully, he made himself clearer because by now, you needed to know as well.

"She's the boss in her day to day and I respect that," he says, "But all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to leave all that shit at work..."

The therapist nodded with grave understanding, although even you could see the trepidation easing onto her face. There is no hiding the conflicting emotions displayed on your face.

"You're asking her to become more…" The therapist cleared their throat, "Submissive?" Jihoon had not responded after that, letting the pregnant silence act as his megaphone.

"I'm submissive," you had whispered, nodding as if trying to convince yourself of your words. "I'm like… so submissive," before you could decorate your lie with even more lies, Jihoon finally turned towards you.

"Really?" He asked, "Where?"

You let an incredulous chuckle escape from your throat as you shot back, "Where what?"

Jihoon did a show of looking around the therapist's clinical office, delving deep into his petty theatrics as he calmly, "Where are you being submissive, because it hasn't been with me?"

The session had ended with you wracking your brain at Jihoon's admittance of what you suspect to be a kink. His words haunted you on the silent drive home. They had piqued your interest considerably, filling the atmosphere with a tense warmth, as if a tempest was brewing. One that neither of you was quite aware of how to deal with yet.

It was a feeling that led you into the deepest confines of your closet, until you pulled out the Savage x Fenty lingerie box, immediately calling Mingyu in a fit of panic while Woozi was in the shower. He was, after all, your best friend way before you even knew of Lee Jihoon.

Ripping your arms away from your torso is a mission on its own, one you succeed with immense reluctance as you finally gaze at your reflection in all her half naked glory.

You commence a hesitant twirl in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

Very hesitant.

The lace bralette is digging into your ribs, and the matching pink garters are cutting into the skin of your ample thighs. It is all so painfully uncomfortable that you're threatening to take it off, no matter how much of a wet dream you may look like.

But there is excitement there too, bubbling beneath the surface, awakened by Jihoon's confession. You are almost excited to try this with him. Submission, sexually, was never on your cards previously but maybe this is something you should have noticed long ago. You pride yourself on being observant so why didn't you notice it before?

The soft affirmations of "Say my name," while he was steadily bringing you to orgasm with his fingers alone. The unmistakable need to have his hand locked around your throat whenever he was on the verge of cumming.

Even the non sexual stuff.

Ordering for you. Making sure your hand was always locked inside his when you found yourselves wandering the city. Forcing you to pay with his card despite knowing you made more than enough to sustain your lifestyle.

How didn't you know?

Keeping a hesitant grip on your satin nightgown, you tilt your head at your reflection skeptically.

"Imagine how embarrassed I'll be if he just ignores me," The insides of your mouth is bleeding non stop from the way you've been gnawing at it, "Maybe I should just accept that work is the only love in Jihoon's life."

Mingyu's voice is diabolically soothing as it bleeds through your speakers, "No, no," he says, and you can imagine him swatting away at the air in the process "Jihoon acts like a prude but he's one of the biggest sluts- if not - the biggest slut I know."

"Besides yourself of course," you murmur,

"Besides myself of course" Eventually, Mingyu comes up with what he suspects is his big master plan.

"Perhaps you should send me a pic of you in it, that way when the little guy gets out of the shower and sees you, then you'll be far more relaxed in the knowledge that someone else has already seen you in it."

It truly was Neanderthal mathematics.

However, there is an underlying veneer in Mingyu's tone bleeding in through the phone's speakers that makes you believe your best friend is far from joking. Despite it infuriating Woozi to no end, Mingyu might never stop flirting with you ever. In respect of your dynamic.

"Surely, I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm not sending you a pic of me in my lingerie for you but I guess I have to put that into words you would understand maybe?" You hold up your fingers and clear your throat as you monotonously say, "how dare you," 'have you no shame, Mingyu," You ask, "Need I go on?"

In the midst of Mingyu's petulant whines urging you to just 'leave your man' Jihoon's shower silences, and you right your bad posture immediately. You suddenly have no idea what to do with the drawstring of the nightgown. Somehow, this seemed like the make it or break it moment. The moment where you would decide to dive headfirst into your plans of winning back your relationship despite the possibility of being met with Jihoon's hostility and coldness that you had grown so accustomed to.

The pool of dread and anxiety is deep, and your hands are nearly shaking as your fingers gloss over the lacy pink garment. "I have to go," you whisper into the receiver, vaguely aware that you've already clicked the button to sever the line before your sentence even ends. All while you awaited the footsteps from Jihoon. But they never came.

Courageously abandoning your fear for the sake of actually getting laid, you walk up to the door of your shared bathroom and knock hesitantly.

"Jihoon? Honey, are you okay?" But he is not okay, in fact, Jihoon might venture to believe he may never be okay because your voice is just so pretty, even when muffled by a closed door. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his forearm is leaning against the shower glass, and you just called him honey and fuck, if he didn't start tugging at his dick faster. He feels pathetic, having to get himself off when you were right there but the nuances and complexities of fighting with your partner introduced the need for such things.

Jihoon's jaw is locked tight as he succinctly and suspiciously responds with a rumbling and groaning "Fine." His brows are furrowed, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fights to get off easily and succinctly.

He hopes that you would take the hostility in his voice as a sign to make yourself scarce. Jihoon already fucked up when he let the 'submissive' thing slip but he cannot bear to imagine the utter humiliation he would be subjected to if you swung that door open right now, catching masturbating in the shower, as if he did not have a girlfriend able to meet those needs… It bruises him like nothing else could. He did not want you to see him like this. He did not want you to know that even in the midst of your fights, you were the only woman he ever really thought of.

His palm skates over his soaked cock as his mind is filled images of you on your knees in front of him, head tilted back and tongue sticking out like a-

"Good little slut," It was intended as a whisper to fuel the violent pool of heat bubbling in his abdomen and make him cum quicker. A whisper that you weren't supposed to hear but your ear is on the door now and you shout back,

"Did you say anything?"

He cannot reply because his cock is aching and heavy with the weight of his fantasy. A fantasy in which you were his to hold, his to fuck, his to cum inside of until you were completely and utterly full of his load-

"Fuck-"

He rushes to squeeze the base of his dick, edging himself even though he's not quite sure why. This had been his moment to just cum all over his hands, wash off his spilt seed and be done with it, but you're knocking much more fluidly on the door, and you're becoming impatient.

"Honey, you're scaring m-," You venture to say, despite already pushing the bathroom door open. You're both left momentarily stunned by what the other is seeing in front of them. He is left paralyzed by seeing you in so little clothing… and wearing pink.

While you did not anticipate seeing Jihoon naked in the shower. Why had you not anticipated that? That’s so silly. Your mouth hangs open with the shock of his beauty perhaps.

Has it truly been that long?

In the same breath, Jihoon's lungs are wiped clean as he stares at you through the glass. His breathing is heavy, ghosting over the glass while his broad chest rises and falls. He is nothing but darkened hooded eyes. Eyes that ravage the sight of you in your lacy pink underwear, underwear that he had not seen anywhere. Where did you get that? When did you get that? Myriad thoughts swirl in Jihoon's mind, each more sinister and lustful than the last because you look so completely innocent and so soft standing by the door, arms at your side while the dressing gown hangs lazily off of your shoulders.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon decides to stop this nonsense by leaning back slightly. His long black hair still dripping down the sides of his face and his tongue skates over his bottom lip as he says,

“We should not be this surprised to see each other naked,” He says, a deep voice ringing out through the acoustics of the bathroom, “We are a couple, last I checked.”

When you do not respond, he tilts his head downward, letting an even deeper shadow cast over his eyes as he scans you from head to toe. For an innumerable amount of minutes all is quiet. It feels as though the world had been rid of noise, like you had teleported back in time, to a Charlie Chaplin motion picture. A world of absolute silence.

You begin to wonder how you might respond because surely, you cannot stand here, gawking at him for the rest of your merry life.

Before you could even think of adding to the silence with anything, anything at all, Woozi keeps his ice cold gaze on you, as he leans his head against his forearm, the one still positioned against the shower glass and he resumes his movements of languidly stroking his thick cock buried in his tight fist.

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes betray you, finally venturing down to watch him. You seem to have forgotten just how beautiful your boyfriend truly was, taking in his damp locks kissing his shoulders. He is all solid lines with a sculpted torso and you feel as if you never even knew him at all.

"Jihoon," Your voice quivers with immense passion but he silences you immediately.

"Don't ruin this. Please don't-"

"I wanna help." His mouth snaps shut but he can feel himself twitch in his palm. Jihoon's breath grows hot as you step closer and closer and he squeezes his cock, as the overall scent of you forces its way through his nose and into his brain. You're so utterly addicting, Jihoon's hand strokes almost instinctively, his hips even venturing to push his cock into his palm as he follows your every movement.

"I want you to tell me what to do," You finally say, letting the silk gown fall to the floor as you step into the shower, lingerie and all. Jihoon's mind has completely descended into lechery while his hooded eyes watch you with nothing but adoration.

"Your knees." Is all he is able to force out, "I need you on your knees," He whispers an incredibly hoarse, "Please," that has you falling to his feet automatically. The movement immediately had Jihoon's reeling.

"Fuck," He whispers, the sound of complete awe rushing straight to your core as he finally let's all his inhibitions wilt away with the rest of his manners. Jihoon is quick to bury his fingers into your hair with a roughness you're surprised to see. Surprised but far from disappointed.

"Open your mouth," He instructs, despite already prying your mouth open with his thick fingers, forcing your teeth open as if you were his plaything all while craning your head backwards.

Once he gets your mouth open, Jihoon is insatiable. He immediately bends down and crashes his lips into yours, letting his tongue invade the inside of your mouth like his life depended on it. It's a manic, passionate and domineering kiss, neck that had you moaning into his open mouth as your tongue wrestled with his.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?" His tone however, lets you know that he is not asking, not really, but you nod anyway, unsure of who or what has come over you. All you're really sure of is that you want to make him feel good. The goal, the satisfaction of it is building so fantastically inside of you, pushing through your arteries, steadily soaking your panties with arousal and eliciting a slightly wayward kind of dizzying emotion inside of you all at once.

"Tell me," he says, and you're forced to crane your head back as he straightens his form. "Tell me to fuck your stupid little mouth. Tell me it's what you want." His jaw is locked tight as his hand once again encloses around his sensitive dick. He refuses to give you anything, however, unless he hears you submit to him fully and completely. He feels like he needs to hear the words. Some part deep in his monkey brain needs the confirmation from the source, as if hearing you say such nasty, horrible things would increase his already heightened arousal.

"Please, Fuck my mouth, Jihoon!" In any other instance you might have been shocked at the words flowing out of your mouth, but your cunt is absolutely dripping through the fabric and your hand immediately dives down to cup your pussy through your panties as you look up at him and say, "Please fuck my slutty little mouth, Jihoon! I fucking want you to, pleasepleaseplease-"

"Such a slut- such a pretty little slut-" you'd never heard Jihoon's voice crack the way it just did and you really wish to hear that beautiful sound again. His hand is once again in your hair while his other hand is on your jaw. He pushes a finger inside until he's flattening your tongue and craning your neck even further back. You're momentarily confused, trapped in a haze of stupid lust before Jihoon hovers above you and spits directly into your mouth.

You're moaning, and keening and Jihoon is already forcing his cock all the way inside your mouth.

"Your mouth-" His voice is hoarse as he eases his cock inside the warmth of your mouth. He cannot take his eyes off of you, his beautiful, brilliant girl taking his cock so far into your mouth while you had taken to humping your own hand like an insatiable little slut.

"Fuck baby," He murmurs, letting the tip of cock meet the very back of your throat before inching out again, "is my little girl really getting turned on from sucking cock?" His humiliation is punctuated by a sharp and powerful thrust, one that has you seeing stars and your vision blurring as you fight to keep him inside your mouth. "You don't even have to do anything," He says through gritted teeth, "I'm doing all the work fucking this tiny little mouth of yours, aren't I?" You can feel how turned on he is. He's fucking huge inside your mouth as he slides himself to and fro like his life depended on it.

"God you're so beautiful like this," He whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful taking my cock like a good little whore."

Jihoon's gaze lowers down to where your hand has taken to pushing aside your panties and rubbing swift wet circles on your clit.

"You're not gonna cum like that," He says, almost immediately stilling his frantic hips, "when you cum, it's gonna be because of me, understand?" His grip on your forearm is solid as he pulls you up from off the shower floor. You're absolutely limp in his hands, breath heavy as he brings you close to him. There is a silent, almost tender exchange, with him breathing heavily in your face while you stare wide eyed up at him.

Soon, he's spinning you around with his hands digging into your sides as he presses your front against the fogged up glass. Letting your tits push against the cool, wet surfaces, he draws your hips to his.

Before he sinks his cock into you, a very strange thing happens. Soft pillowy lips brush against your shoulder blade, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"Thank you," He whispers before sinking his cock into you with determination. He bottoms out faster than you anticipate, all while you've taken to moaning and whimpering like a mad woman. Your sounds egg him on, until he's rutting his twitching cock inside of you, desperately searching for the alleviation of a budding and aching need inside him.

"You feel so fucking good, you know that?" You hear him behind you. Feel him behind you. Your walls stretch and contract around his cock who continues to bully your insides.

"F-Fuck, Jihoona-"

"Fuck, you're squeezing me, Princess," Your orgasm sneaks up on you pile the devil himself, stripping you of your dignity as you push your hips backwards, almost instinctively forcing his cock deeper as you fucked yourself back onto him. Jihoon's mind is absolutely deranged with lust. He sinks his nails into the softness of your sides and he pulls your hips impossibly closer. He fucks you like a madman, his cock is fluid and quick, pushing against that particular cushion of nerves that has your orgasm feeling like an absolute lifetime. Your panties that had been carelessly pushed aside creates a second later of friction that has him so dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm going to cum inside you." He states while never letting himself stop fucking you, "Fuck- I'm going to cum inside you-" It's the hardest you've ever seen him cum before. His hair is messy and a darker shade under the wetness of the shower, his eyes are hooded and glossy and his body is shuddering against you, overcome by a wave of vicious shocks as he stutters and empties his balls deep inside of you. His cock is forced deeper than it's ever been and you're made completely full of his load. Jihoon is utterly spent as he lowers his weight onto your back. Letting a sea of kisses reign down on your back as your heavy breathing fills the warm and damp air.

"You look so fucking beautiful," He says, never letting his pecks against your back stop, "so fucking gorgeous." That seems like apology enough, on both parts.

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munson-blurbs · 7 months ago

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Your date--or non-date--with Eddie was ruined when he dodged your kiss. Or...was it? (5.4k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, drunkenness, making out, heavy petting, mentions of smut, mention of masturbation (m), idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

chapter eleven: undo, undone

He pulled away.

You leaned in for a kiss, and Eddie pulled away.

The full extent of rejection hadn’t even set in before you felt something cold and wet on your leg. An electric blue liquid dripped down your shin, traveling in winding paths like veins.

Haziness shifted into perfect clarity, flinging you into sudden and unwanted sobriety. The music was too loud, the dimmed lights still too bright. Every conversation was now too loud, the floor sticky beneath your Doc Marten-ed feet.

When you mustered up the nerve to look at Eddie, you saw that he had fared even worse; his entire left pant leg was drenched and already reeked of gin and the cerulean syrup stained his sneakers. His eyes widened as he processed what had just happened, a startled deer in the headlights.

“Oh my God; I’m so sorry!”

The drunken apology snagged your attention, coming from none other than the woman who’d brutally massacred Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. She stumbled forward again, and whatever remained of her drink sloshed over the glass and onto the floor.

Her lower lip jutted out into a pout and panicked tears welled in her eyes as she looked from you to Eddie. “Have you seen my boyfriend?” Her words were slurred; ‘seen’ came out as ‘sheen.’ “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“I’ll help you find him.” Anything to get away from Eddie, to avoid the thundering question: Had he pulled back because of the spilled drink, or did he cause the spill by pulling away?

It had to be the latter. He probably regretted ever offering to celebrate your graduation and would spend the rest of the evening ruminating over how he’d inadvertently led you on. Was it dedicating a song to you? The dancing?

Except…neither of those had been his idea. You were the one who insisted he sing karaoke. You were the one who asked him to dance. He relented to appease you, and you’d completely humiliated yourself by stretching his kindness past its platonic confines.

The woman latched herself onto your arm with one gin-soaked hand and swiped at her cheeks with the other. Up close, she barely looked old enough to legally drink. “His name is Charlie.”

“Huh?” Her boyfriend. The one you were supposed to be locating. “Oh, right.”

Eddie scrubbed his jeans with a wad of flimsy napkins, muttering under his breath when they left a papery residue in their wake. He grumbled something about the restroom before storming off in that direction.

Your new drunk companion rested her head on your shoulder, permed hair tickling your neck.

“What does Charlie look like?” The bar wasn’t big, not even by New York City standards, but having a general idea of who you were looking for would be a massive help.

She just laughed softly, a joke only she knew, head lolling as she spoke. “Y’know…tall-ish. Blue eyes. Has, um, hair with a little woop thing.” Her palm mimicked an ocean wave. Just as you had predicted, the gesture provided nothing of relevance towards your search.

You gritted your teeth in a forced smile. “Okay, right.” Sucking in a harsh breath, you led her to the bar and ordered two waters, practically shoving the condensation-frosted glass into her hand.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” It all came out as one word: Wheresyourboyfren?

“He’s not—” You shook your head; there was no sense in trying to explain the situation to a wasted stranger. “Bathroom.”

The girl’s droopy lids snapped open. “That’s where Charlie went!” She threw her head back and cackled, and you quickly roped an arm around her waist to keep her from teetering over in her too-high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way. No wonder your boyfriend looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess.” Her mood rapidly shifted to one of ire as she threw out, “Bet he’d never leave you alone in this skeezy bar.”

Except he had left you alone in this skeezy bar—and he wasn’t your boyfriend.

You could still feel his soft cotton t-shirt beneath your fingers, the way his curly tendrils of hair brushed along your hands. The gentle nose crinkle each time he smiled at you from the stage was forever etched into your brain.

At what point did he realize he’d made a mistake? When did regret tarnish his good deed?

Tears pricked in your eyes as the weight of humiliation now set in. Your mascara would run, but who cared? It wasn’t as though you had anyone to impress anymore.

The TV above the bar flashed with the red and blue of police lights, the colors blurred by your own tears. You blinked them away just in time to read the closed captioning scrolling along the bottom of the screen.

The frontman of an up-and-coming punk band once again finds himself in legal trouble. Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist for Death’s Echo, was arrested early this morning for disorderly conduct and public intoxication.

The video showed a young man keeping his head down so his shaggy blond hair covered his eyes, his hands cuffed behind his back and rendered unable to shield his face.

This is not the first time Dalton has landed himself in hot water. Just last week, the troubled musician was arrested for allegedly driving under the influence; his court date is set for early next month. All of this erratic behavior has fans wondering how this could impact the band’s first world tour, set to begin mid-June.

A professional photo of Death’s Echo took up the entirety of the screen. There was Caleb Dalton, front and center, shirtless and brooding. To his immediate left and right were two other men, one incredibly tall and lanky with gleaming chains dangling from both his neck and the belt loops of his dark-wash JNCOs. The other was shorter, stockier, wearing a black tank top that was littered with holes. If Eddie’s recollections of swanky hotel rooms and impromptu helicopter rides were true, the holes must have been purposefully designed to heighten the band’s grungy look.

But the member who snagged your attention was the only woman in the group. Her eyes, thickly rimmed with kohl and sheathed in a smoky shadow, bore into your soul. Blonde hair fell in jagged layers and framed a heart-shaped face, her crimson-painted pout simultaneously beckoning suitors to come hither and stay away.

You imagined those lips on Eddie’s for half a second before your drinks threatened to make a reappearance.

The report ended with the obligatory statement: “Dalton’s rep could not be reached for comment,” before shifting to the next story.

Tongue firmly adhered to the roof of your mouth, you gulped down some water in hopes of ungluing it. In hopes of sorting out your thoughts, jumbled from embarrassment and the jolt of alcohol to your system.

If Eddie had seen that…you couldn’t stomach the thought of him watching as his replacement’s lips subtly curled into a smirk as he was shuffled along towards the police car. That was the smirk of a man who knew he’d evaded the law before and would likely do it again. Fame and fortune certainly had their ways of tipping the scales of justice.

The news would almost certainly usher in unwelcome memories of his hometown and the people who took joy in vandalizing his trailer. The people who continuously made his life a living hell and faced no consequences because of their pristine reputations and Eddie’s tarnished one.

You shoved the information deep down and vowed to never let it bubble over. If Eddie found out on his own, that was one thing. But you refused to further ruin this evening for him.

“Dianna?”

A man’s worried voice called out from the back of the bar, his sandy eyebrows pinched together as he scoped out the cramped venue. With his crisp button-down and khaki pants, he could be Eddie’s polar opposite.

“Oh my god! Babe!” The girl yanked herself from your light grasp. You realized that you hadn’t known her name until that moment, though there was a decent chance she wouldn’t even remember it if you’d asked. She stumbled over to the man—Charlie, you assumed—whose concerned expression dissolved into relief the moment she flung her arms over his shoulders.

Charlie pulled her close and let out an extended sigh. His jaw relaxed, lips pressed to her temple as his frenetic energy tapered and his heart rate slowed. “Scared the shit outta me, babe.” He murmured against her ear. “Why didn’t you stay at the table?”

Your heart ached at the way he held her close, a precious commodity that he would protect with his life. Would Eddie ever touch you like that? Would he leave protective kisses all along your shoulders, nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck? Would he panic if he thought something happened to you?

If his rebuff of your kiss was any indication, it was highly unlikely.

Dianna shrugged. “I wanted to get another drink, but then I spilled it all over her boyfriend,” she said, pointing to you.

Charlie looked in your direction as though seeing you for the first time. “That explains the guy standing at the sink, washing his pants.” His fingers sifted through the blonde curtains that flopped right back to his forehead, adding to no one in particular, “Dude looked pissed.”

Your stomach roiled, whiskey and vodka burning at the base of your throat. Between your unwelcome advances and Dianna’s drink snafu, Eddie’s good deed was far from unpunished.

The urge to empty the contents of your stomach only heightened when you imagined the look of utter disgust Eddie must have worn when you leaned in for that kiss and the embarrassment he felt on your behalf. A man bought you a drink, obliged your request for a dance to a mediocre karaoke rendition of a song, and you took that as some grand romantic gesture? Pathetic.

It was just another way that you let people down.

Eddie’s expectations of a night out with a platonic friend.

Mom and Dad’s expectations of you taking over the motel.

Your own expectations of Eddie secretly harboring romantic feelings for you, strong enough to shine through the cloud of insecurity constantly surrounding you.

Once again, you were a disappointment.

The room’s walls began closing in, filling your lungs with wet sand that clung to the muscle and made breathing an impossible task. A fuzzy film blurred your vision and warped the room until it was utterly unrecognizable.

Air. You needed fresh air and to get far away from this godforsaken bar. A wave of heat crashed over you again and again, dousing you in your own perspiration and keeping your feet pasted to the floorboards.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t—

“Heiress?”

Eddie’s voice shredded through anxiety’s haze, his worried tone bursting the bubble with a violent pop. The world began shifting back into place, your mind floating back down in reluctant reunion with your body.

“Hey.” Strong palms clasped your trembling shoulders. He leaned in to ensure you heard him over the pulsing music. “Let’s get outta here, okay?”

Your response was a meager nod. His fingers glided down your bare arm, goosebumps rising in their wake, as he took your hand and led you outside. The burst of night-chilled air was a sweet nectar; your bones drank it up like a delicacy.

Diaphragm loosening, you took one shallow breath, then another that rested a bit deeper in your chest. You anchored yourself in the moment until you once again recognized the subtle press of your lungs against your ribcage.

Home. You needed to get home.

Peering down to check your watch, you realized that Eddie’s hand still clutched yours. The pad of his thumb traced lazy lines along the skin between your thumb and forefinger, steady as a heartbeat.

“It was getting kinda crowded in there, huh?” It was said entirely for your benefit, you knew: Eddie was accustomed to packed arenas and sold-out stadiums.

Another nod. “Y-Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it t-to be…” That was the whole reason why you’d suggested a Monday night, but Karaoke Night must have brought in an influx of new customers. Couple that with the end of the Memorial Day weekend, where people didn’t want the party to end after the family barbecues wound down, and you had the perfect recipe for an overcrowded bar.

Eddie dug into his back pocket as the two of you began walking back towards the motel, procuring a dented box of Camels and his trusty lighter. His eyes, illuminated by The Brink’s dim neon signage, flicked over to yours. “Is it cool if I…?” He raised the cigarette, pinched between his pointer and middle finger, unlit until you gave your approval.

“S’fine.” You watched his thumb glide over the sparkwheel, igniting a tiny flame. The scent of burning tobacco wafted off of the end of his cigarette, the wind blowing a curl of smoke in your direction.

He waved his hand to ward it away from you. “Sorry,” he mumbled. When he took another drag, it happened again. “Jesus Christ. Here.” Tucking the cigarette between his lips, he planted his feet behind you and placed both hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. Electricity crackled beneath his touch, his fingertips the lightning and his voice the gentle rumble of thunder.

Stop it, you reprimanded yourself. He dodged your kiss. You can’t be thinking this way anymore.

He sidestepped to your right, the breeze now carrying the smoke away from you. Another deep inhale had the flame ripping through the paper, ash building up on the cigarette’s tip. The flakes floated down and decorated the tops of his sneakers in a gray snow. A warning sat on your tongue, hampered only by the cool dampness suddenly touching your bare leg.

Eddie grimaced at the way you stumbled and stepped away slightly so the wet denim no longer pressed against your skin. “I got most of the drink out, I think. It’s just soap and water at this point.”

You stopped again, stooping down and pinching the fabric of his jeans between two fingers. The scent of gin still clung to him, though not as strongly as it had immediately following Dianna’s spill. Or maybe it was just the tobacco’s heaviness that overpowered it. That damn cigarette, so smugly perched where you longed to be.

“I’m doing a load of laundry tomorrow,” you managed, shaking off the remaining thoughts of Eddie’s lips as you carefully stood up. The last thing you needed was dizziness spinning you to the ground. “I can throw these in with my stuff, if that’s okay.”

Eddie grinned. It was the first glimmer of happiness you’d seen from him since asking him to dance.

“Trying to get in my pants, Heiress?”

Your feet caught beneath you. You dug your heels into the pavement to steady yourself, sending up silent praise to whatever omnipotent presence kept you from falling flat on your face.

If he was joking with you…he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t unnerved by your attempt to kiss him.

You invited relief in, just enough to loosen a retort from your arsenal.

“Don’t make me rescind my offer,” you quipped back. “And in the meantime, I’ll just tell people you pissed yourself.”

Eddie quirked up an eyebrow. “On the outside of my leg? I can see why you studied psychology instead of anatomy.”

There was nothing you needed to focus on less than Eddie Munson’s anatomy right now, the way it might feel against your own, within your own. Not when the ship had only just begun steering down the right course again.

“That girl found her boyfriend, by the way. Or, he found her, I guess.” It was the first subject your brain latched onto. When Eddie’s reply was a confused stare, you hurriedly elaborated. “The girl who spilled her drink on you.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He flicked some more ash from his cigarette and took another wistful drag. “This whole night was a blur.”

You forced yourself to choke down the insecurity that had lodged itself in your throat. “Rockstar can’t mix liquor like he used to?” You tutted disapprovingly. “Maybe you’re getting a little rusty. Out of practice.”

“Please.” He scoffed, snuffing out the cigarette on a brick wall. “Did you see my moves tonight?”

You certainly had. Each hip swivel, each pelvic thrust was firmly etched into your memories. And then there was the way he’d danced with you, leading with the confidence of an order but the tenderness of a suggestion.

“Fair enough,” you conceded. The fresh air was working wonders; you stood a bit straighter as you continued walking alongside him, your footsteps in time with his own. “I still can’t believe you sang Elvis.”

“Me either.” Eddie laughed through his nose. “I was going to sing something Ozzy-adjacent, but then I saw Heartbreak Hotel and figured it fit better with, y’know, our whole thing.”

Our whole thing. An invisible and intangible thing, but he felt it, too. Felt it enough to acknowledge it aloud.

A smile blossomed on your lips. “You were easily the best one up there. Singing, dancing…all of it.” Flattery embedded in truth, you noted the tips of his ears tinging red.

“I don’t think anyone would mistake me for a dancer.” He chuckled, hand swaying out just enough to find purchase on your back and pull you an inch closer.

You swallowed back desire and forced yourself to focus on anything but the press of his fingers against your spine. “N-No future career in Elvis impersonation? Or ballroom dancing?”

“Nah.” Eddie shook a stray curl from his eyes. “And I definitely stepped on your toes while we were dancing.”

“You didn’t.” If he had, you didn’t notice, too swept up in the warmth of his closeness to even register any overlapping feet or bumping knees.

Someone barely visible in the inky night lugged a garbage pail across the sidewalk, the scraping of metal bringing your heart into your throat. The noise must have startled Eddie, too; his fingers tensed against your side to hold you in place as he stepped in front of you.

“Shit.” He swore under his breath. Nervous, awkward laughter permeated the air when he realized that the threat was no more than a dented hunk of metal. “Sorry about that. I just thought–”

“S’okay.”

Comfortable silence, as much as the city streets allowed, accompanied you as you walked back, broken only by crickets’ rhythmic chirping and car engines revving down the boulevard. Eddie’s eyes stayed alert to his surroundings and his grip remained tight around your waist, adrenaline still coursing through his veins from the earlier scare. His chest nudged your back; you could feel his heart thumping a protective beat.

A hunger to kiss away that fear, to nuzzle yourself into him until his pulse steadied and his breathing regulated, settled into you. You were starving to restore his lightheartedness.

Eddie’s voice was rife with apprehension when he spoke again. “I, uh, think we got interrupted. Back at the bar.”

He looked away as he spoke, and it took a moment for you to register what he said. Surely he wasn’t referring to the kiss—or lack thereof. He wouldn’t be bringing it into the conversation now that the embers of your embarrassment had finally stopped burning bright.

You shoved the thought far from your mind, temporarily quelling the memory’s intensity and allowing yourself to think straight. The slow dance–he meant the slow dance being interrupted. “The song was almost over, anyway,” you said softly.

“I’m not talking about the dance.”

Oh. So that meant…

“Heiress.”

A hint of a warble clipped his nickname for you. Eddie’s left hand wrapped around your upper arm, fingers barely touching skin, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. You caught the way his tongue flicked over his lip, the way his cocoa irises darkened even under the streetlamp’s flickering light. Fuzziness filled your brain; your breath hitched in some unknown space between your lungs and your throat.

His right thumb brushed your chin, your jawline, memorizing the texture of your skin. He smiled, the gentle upward tug of the corners of his mouth suddenly the center of your focus.

“Heiress,” Eddie repeated, the word a whisper that left your bones humming.

You nodded, your own fingers tangled in his cotton shirt, pulling him an inch closer that still felt like he was a mile away. He would never be close enough, you realized.

His palm slid to your cheek, his fingers tucked behind your ear, beckoning you to take that small step forward and bridge that gap. It was your choice. You could back away and unfurl your fingers from around his shirt. You could ignore the aching need in your core, the one that matched his.

You deserve to be happy, he’d said.

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe him.

You believed him when you stepped into him, your chest against his, rising and falling in perfect synchronicity. You believed him when noses clumsily bumped together as you sought his lips, the lips from which symphonies of music and laughter flowed. You believed him when you finally found them after the agonizing seconds, minutes, hours, days–time both hastened and ceased to exist–and connected with Eddie on a level only ever reached in your runaway daydreams.

Expectations slid down your back and swirled down the storm drains when his tongue sought entrance at your lips. There was no school, no motel, no troubled lead singer. There was only you and Eddie.

A calloused palm clutched your shirt, the fabric bunching between his fingers. The fervor of his tug pulled the neckline down past your collarbone to reveal one white bra strap.

Eddie’s lips danced over your uncovered shoulder, forefinger sliding under your bra strap and toying with it once his mouth returned to yours. The touch was burning, the promise of pleasure sending sparks careening down your spine. The flames spoke nonsensically, whispering to let him undress you right here in the street.

His hunger for you was seemingly just as insatiable. The hand that rested on your cheek dove to where your skirt curved along your ass, wrinkling the stiff denim as he squeezed harshly. You let your own grasp fall from his collar to his biceps, feeling them instinctively flex beneath your touch.

More. You needed more. You needed all of him, needed to give him all of you, until you were wholly unified with no clear beginning or end to you and Eddie as separate beings.

Your hips rolled into him, a soft moan leaving his mouth to safekeep in yours. You let it trickle down your throat, relishing in the subtle hardness that you felt pressed against his fly.

A shoulder collided with his and sent both of you stumbling, Eddie only holding you tighter to prevent a fall. His arms wrapped around you as he scowled at the man who dared to occupy the sidewalk while the two of you were locked in an embrace.

“We’re in the way,” you murmured against him, nose grazing the hint of stubble peppering his jaw.

Eddie said nothing in response. His eyes shone with equal parts determination and desire. In one swift, impulsive motion, he grabbed your wrists and led you off to the side, away from any passersby.

“‘S probably better that we stop.” The disappointment weighing down his words spoke volumes. “Your shift starts soon.”

You shook your head. “We can be fast.” Your lips attached to his neck, sucking lightly as your teeth grazed his exposed skin.

“Look at me, Heiress.” Eddie sighed and leaned against the nearest lamppost. He kept two fingers curled into your belt loop, bringing you with him. “I don’t wanna do this with a timeclock going.”

“It’s fine, really.” Kissing him forever still wouldn’t be long enough.

A chuckle punctuated his breath. “When we do that…” His thumb brushed over your lower lip for a second time. “I’m not gonna be rushed. I’m gonna need hours, Heiress. Because once I have you like that, I’ll never be able to stop.”

Heat seeped into every pore, bringing with it a familiar ache. Needs and wants blurred together until they were indistinguishable from each other, his kisses having siphoned all logic out of your mind.

You allowed a moment for the fog to clear and reality to settle. No, you couldn’t fake illness and burden your parents with an extra shift, just to have sex with Eddie. No, you shouldn’t run your fingertips along his zipper and awaken the beast that he had managed to quell. No, you wouldn’t let lust wield its power like a mighty sword, slicing into all reasoning until it was unrecognizable.

“Y-Yeah.” You swallowed back temptation, your gaze falling to where his arousal was still evident in his jeans.

Eddie’s eyes followed yours, accompanied by an embarrassed huff of laughter. “Don’t worry about that.” The tip of his nose grazed your earlobe as he whispered, “I can take care of that later.”

His admission brought the imagery of him laying back in his bed, boxers haphazardly shoved halfway down his thighs and hand wrapped around his cock. You wanted—needed—to know how he touched himself. Did he tease the head with his thumb? Did he use his other hand to cup his balls? Did he gradually edge himself or did he sprint towards euphoria?

The cold metal of his belt buckle brought goosebumps through your shirt fabric as he kissed you once again, too briefly. Always too briefly. What you wouldn’t give for just a few more moments alone with him to unfasten that buckle yourself.

“Heiress?”

Eddie’s smile lifted you out of your thoughts, the smirk informing you that he knew you weren’t paying attention.

“Hmm?”

Lips connected to the soft skin just below your ear; your body reflexively arched into their butterfly touch. “What time are you doing laundry tomorrow?”

“Oh, um,” You calculated silently, the inside of your cheek trapped between your teeth. If you went to bed at 6 A.M. and then slept until early afternoon… “No earlier than two. I can knock on your door when I’m ready.”

He nodded as he threaded his fingers with yours. A current of protection surged through the lines etched in his palms, wrapping you in a cocoon that kept the rest of the world at bay. The sounds of car horns and pedestrians’ conversations and the subway rattling under the grate faded into the background, too dull to even hear. There was no one except for you and Eddie.

The motel entrance loomed ahead, the dimming sign filling you with ambivalence rather than its usual sense of tranquility. Despite the headaches and heartaches it brought, it was still home.

Tonight, however, you approached it with newfound apprehension. Entering the lobby meant that you had a choice to make: You could keep your grasp on Eddie’s hand and risk your mom seeing, or you could let it go before she noticed.

You reluctantly untangled your fingers from his, anxiety defeating you with a fatal blow. His hand draped over your wrist for the briefest moment before falling unceremoniously to his side. It hurt to look at the confusion pinching his brows together, his mind spinning to determine the miscalculation that caused you to let go.

Telling Mom would be too complicated; you’d basically be subjecting yourself to a lecture on the unprofessionalism and dangers of forming romantic relationships with the guests.

No matter that you’d never pursued so much as a friendship with a guest prior to meeting Eddie. No matter that, with him, you felt more whole than you’d ever been. More true to your authentic self.

Mom looked up before the bell jingled, a product of her maternal sixth sense. There was no missing your smudged lipstick or the pinkish-red marks across Eddie’s mouth that nullified any alibi he might create.

“Did you two have fun?” To her credit, Mom kept her tone nonchalant, but her narrowed eyes saw it all.

“Mhm.” You scraped at the corner of your lip, as if that would conceal the evidence. “Eddie sang Elvis at karaoke.”

That got a smile out of Mom, her posture softening slightly. Still, distrust radiated off of her skin, twisting the knife of inadequacy deeper into your stomach. She glanced between you and Eddie, sizing up the situation. There was nothing she could say at that moment. Not with Eddie standing right there.

“I’m gonna get changed and I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t bear to meet her gaze as you walked to your room.

A piece of you hoped that Eddie would be waiting when you returned. You stripped off your skirt first, the denim dropping to the ground and revealing your panties. They were, in fact, pink and lacy; the kind that one might wear if they planned to show them to someone else. As if you and Eddie would have been able to sneak past your mom unnoticed.

You tugged on a pair of jeans, too worn and wide-legged to be capable of showing off your figure.

The make-up you wore to the bar was too dark for work, and you scrubbed at it until mascara residue stained your white washcloth black. You rinsed, scrubbed, and repeated until your face was bare. Tired eyes stared back in the mirror.

Honesty was a weight in your chest, anchoring you in an abyss of your own shortcomings. It pulled you down, down, down until the waters were too murky and the pressure was too strong to swim up to the surface.

With a deep breath, you pushed off of the sink ledge and headed back to the lobby. Only Mom was there, her disdain no longer hidden now that the two of you were alone.

“Eddie’s in his room,” she said, as though reading your mind.

“Okay. Yeah, he’s probably tired—”

“You know better than to get involved with a guest—employee—whatever he is.” Mom waved her hand in irritation. Her voice was sharp, cleaving through the facade with one cut, yet hushed in case of eavesdropping ears.

You cast your eyes down to the floor. “We’re—we’re not involved. Things just got out of hand, but we’re colleagues. Friendly colleagues,” you added off-handedly.

Mom sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you making friends,” she started, “but it’s not a good idea for you to get close to Eddie. If you have an argument or a falling out…”

“I know.” It compromised too much. Eddie could pack up and leave at the drop of a hat, and the motel would be without a handyman. You weren’t sure how the place survived before he was around, changing light bulbs and plunging toilets and tinkering with minor electrical problems. Now that he was here, he was an invaluable asset.

“Okay.” Mom looked at you once more, a warning flashing in her eyes. “Okay.” Stepping out from behind the desk, she watched as you took her place.

“Mom?” All of your truths begged and pleaded to be unleashed. Your feelings for Eddie, graduate school, plans for the future.

She stopped, stunned by the vulnerability in your tone. “Yeah?”

Tell her. Stop being a coward and tell her.

“I’m gonna wash clothes around two tomorrow, if you need anything done.”

Failure.

Mom loosened a breath that blew away some of her anger. “I’ll ask Dad, but I think we’re good.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know running this place hasn’t been easy, but we’re really proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Every ounce of your remaining strength was spent on tempering your emotions, swallowing the pit that formed in your throat. “Get some sleep.”

The ugliness of your lies wrapped around you, constricting vines that dug into your skin and severed the flow of blood and air.

The daughter they were proud of didn’t exist. Maybe she never did. And the daughter they had was surely nothing less than a disappointment.

It wasn’t until the silence settled in, swallowing you whole, that you realized you’d never bid Eddie good night.

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