#you shouldn’t call him that. it’s inappropriate

[megamindsecretlair]

Said I Wouldn't, Part 1

Pairing: Dad!Terry Richmond x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem receiving), fingering (female receiving), All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: Babysitting for Terry had its perks. You were able to see his gorgeous ass every night before heading off to your own house next door. And because he went to the gym on Wednesday nights, you had extra time to explore his room and live in your delusions. But when Terry catches you, you are unprepared for what comes next. 

Word Count: 7,608k

AO3 Link

A/N: I...am just going to be honest. I am a WEAK woman when it comes to Aaron and since he's hellbent on killing me, I may as well surrender. Need that man. That full sleeve turned me FERAL. This should be a two-parter. I also fucked around and caught a bug, ugh. Pray for me. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

“Will you marry me?” 

You gasped as you turned to Mr. Terry’s son, Troy, as he looked at you with the sweetest expression on his little face. His eyes were wide and pleading, a shy smile on his face, as he glanced at you like you hung the moon. 

Aww, how come there were no guys your age who wanted to marry you? Then again, you’d actually have to go out with someone for all that and well, you had better things to do. Like get your degree, find a better job, and actually do the whole adult thing before you brought a man into that.

You licked your lips to give yourself time to think of a proper answer. Though you didn’t know how you were supposed to navigate something like this. Mr. Terry hadn’t given you a laundry list of what was appropriate for you to handle and you were a bit out of your depth.

“That is really sweet of you to ask and you’re very brave. But I am entirely too old for you, buddy,” you said. 

Troy tucked his legs beneath him and sidled closer to you. His shoulder knocked into the coffee table disrupting his homework and you fought a smile at the eagerness in his little body. “I’ll be a great husband! I’ll open doors for you and make you chicken nuggets!” He persisted. 

See, the definition of romance. Who didn’t want their doors opened for them and chicken nuggets on demand? You put your pen down on the coffee table next to your own abandoned homework. You faced Troy and fought hard to keep the smile from your face. He was being serious so you’d respond in kind.

“That is a very tempting offer, Troy. But I’m very sorry. I have to say no,” you said.

His face crumpled but to his credit, he didn’t cry. He only scrunched up his face like he was lost in thought. He looked so much like Mr. Terry, it was frightening. 

“But you’re so pretty! Like Dad said. And you’re a good person. Dad always said to find the prettiest, smartiest, good person and marry them. Not like bad girls,” Troy said. 

“What makes a girl bad?” You asked. Out of all the things Troy said, your mind stuck on the fact that Mr. Terry thought you were pretty. It shouldn’t. It was wildly inappropriate, not to mention a cliche and a half, but…Mr. Terry was drop dead fuckin’ gorgeous. If someone like that called someone like you pretty, then…maybe…

“Dad said when they’re ma-man,” Troy said. He scrunched up his face again and then dug a small notebook from his pocket. He flipped a few pages before poking out his bottom lip. “Ma-mani-pu.” Troy sounded out the word, badly, but you knew better than to try and help him. 

“Manipulative,” Troy finally pushed out. 

You smiled and nodded your head. “That’s very good. You should stay away from those girls. In fact, the only thing on your mind should be those books you stopped paying attention to,” you said and tapped his math homework. 

“I can do both,” he said, giving you a grin. 

You chuckled. Just like his damn daddy… You rolled your eyes and tapped on his homework again. “Math homework, young man,” you said. 

Troy sighed but you could already tell this would be an uphill battle. He sat back on the floor and tucked his legs under the table to complete his homework. He was a bit too small to really manage, but he wanted to be next to you while you did yours.

You worked in silence, working on your own homework, and when Troy was finished you looked over his answers. This new way of doing math was beyond you and that was without struggling from the old way. It looked about right. Hell, Troy needed to look over your homework with how smart he was. 

“Great job, buddy. This goes straight to your backpack so you don’t lose it. And then it’s bath time,” you said.

Troy groaned, dropping his head dramatically to the coffee table. Your shoulders danced with silent laughter. What was it about kids avoiding the bath like the plague? Or maybe you were just a weird child all around. You loved taking baths and taking your Bratz dolls with you so they could go “swimming”. 

“You know, if you want to make a great husband, there’s nothing girls like more than a boy who has good hygiene,” you said. 

“Really?” Troy asked, popping his head up to look at you. “Even you?” After you nodded, Troy packed up his homework into his binder and then rushed to his room. This kid had your entire heart. You’d be sad to stop babysitting for him when Mr. Terry finally figured out what he’d do with the separation from his horrible wife. There would probably be a more permanent, vetted babysitter.

You were absolutely biased against Alivia, Mr. Terry’s wife. After moving in next door about a year ago, you had a front row seat to the awful way she treated Mr. Terry and Troy. Constantly shrieking and belittling them, no matter what they did. Keeping both virtually locked up in the house.

You could count on one hand the amount of times Mr. Terry or Troy had friends over. Or hell, a grandmother or cousin or something. When there were visitors, it was short lived. You were also witness to the screaming match when Mr. Terry finally threw her ass out of the house with nothing but a suitcase a few months back. 

How anyone could treat those two like that was beyond you. But you didn’t know all of it. Only what you were able to see and be nosy about. Since you had no real life of your own, you spent your free time making up scenarios about other people. It was fun…until Mr. Terry invited you into their world to be a babysitter.

And since then, your severe crush only grew more ridiculous. Bordering on creepy really. But you just couldn’t help it. You’d have killed to have a life like this. A stable home, a wonderful kid, and a husband who was good and provided. You didn’t think this life was perfect, no life was perfect, but dammit…you yearned. 

Troy started the bath and you stood up from behind the coffee table to stretch your legs. You fixed the deep rose colored bodycon dress you wore. Not entirely appropriate, but you skipped laundry day and who knows when you’d get another chance considering one of your roommates was a hog. 

You walked down the short hallway to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “I’m in here!” Troy called out.

“Good, make sure you wash behind your ears, please!” You said.

“I will!” Troy called back.

You had about twenty minutes before Troy would be done. So you looked around the house, knowing full well you were alone, and then snuck off to Mr. Terry’s room. Yes, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help it.

You managed to swipe an old T-shirt of Mr. Terry’s a month ago and so far, he hadn’t noticed. Or if he did, he just hadn’t mentioned it to you. It was the stupidest, boldest thing you’d ever done, but you couldn’t muster the energy to feel guilty about it. It was an old MCMAP shirt that you slept in nearly every night. It still smelled like him, years of his natural scent soaked into the fabric. 

You did a deep dive on Mr. Terry after that, justifying it by telling yourself that you had to know who you were dealing with. Mr. Terry found you on a babysitting app but since you were right next door and a little friendly already, he bypassed all that to pay you directly. You appreciated the extra cash, but people were sick these days. 

But every piece of information you managed to find out only made you fall in love with him that much more. He was on the freakin’ Wikipedia page, like…how could you not fall in love? You loved when people were really good at what they did. You were sure there was a name for it, but fuck if you knew it. You only knew that when someone was exceptionally good at something, it got you all hot and bothered.

Slipping into Mr. Terry’s room, you took a deep breath. This was where he laid his head at night. The rustic decor somehow fit the image you had of him in your mind. He had a dark, rustic walnut headboard that stretched to the ceiling. On it were two lamps that pointed to the bed. 

On his nightstand, he had the same historical novel he started a month or so ago. He had a simple, thin brown blanket on his neatly made up bed. That was point one in why you would never actually work with someone like him. He was too neat for your blood. He’d probably have a heart attack seeing the state of your bedroom. 

You tried, you really did, but well. You were grown enough to admit you just hated picking up after yourself. Not when you had better things to do like binge anime and go down Google rabbit holes for random things you thought about. 

His furniture was simple, functional, much like the man himself but there was something so alluring about being in a man’s personal space. And you did mean a MAN. All capital letters included. You made sure to never touch anything. You just liked getting a peek behind that stoic exterior. 

You glanced at your watch, still making good time, as you looked at the small bottles of cologne. They were nearly filled to the top so maybe he didn’t use it as much? Maybe he naturally smelled that damn delicious. 

On his dresser, he had a few pictures thrown about of Troy and Alivia. You sucked your teeth looking at the batshit woman he married. Why did guys tend to go for the crazy, loud women? Were they allergic to peace? To a quiet night at home, basking in gooey love? 

As your therapist put it, the world was not a stage and no, you couldn’t direct people’s actions. You were not that powerful. What Mr. Terry decided to do in his own bed was his own business. Speaking of…

You sat down on the edge of the bed and cast your eyes about the room. You didn’t always come in here. You weren’t that big of a pervert. Just on Wednesday nights. That was when he stopped by the gym after work. And he always came home sweaty and out of breath. If he were a bit closer, you were sure that he would jog or bike to the gym rather than taking his car.

As you sat there, you let your mind wander. What would it be like coming home to someone of his caliber? Someone able to carry a damn conversation beyond wondering what you were doing every two seconds. Someone to discuss books and themes with. Someone to binge anime with you and discuss the power scaling. Fun stuff. 

An engine pulled up outside the house and you scrambled to get out of the man’s room as quickly as possible. The car door slammed outside and your heart pounded in your chest. Okay, he was a little too early tonight. You closed the door behind you just as his keys turned the lock. You jogged to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, grabbing a cup just as Mr. Terry’s keys hit the key bowl beside the door. 

“Mr. Terry, hi,” you said, closing the cabinet door. You walked over to the fridge and poured a glass of water that you clearly needed. 

Mr. Terry walked further into the kitchen and then gave you a small smile, putting his hands into his gym shorts pockets. He wore a simple gray T-shirt soaked through with sweat and damn, damn, damn, he looked good. His arms bulged underneath the short sleeved shirt, deep veins running along his arm. Delicious. 

“Dad!” Troy barreled into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Whoa, okay,” you said and turned around with a chuckle.

“Troy, we have company. You can’t run around naked like that,” Terry said. You heard movement but refused to turn around. 

“I asked her to marry me, but she said no. But I was able to say manipulative,” Troy said, slowing down around the big word. 

“Is that right?” Terry asked.

“Uh-huh. She said girls like when boys have good hygiene. So you should probably bathe too,” Troy said.

Terry laughed and you heard wrestling. “Is that your way of saying I stink?” Mr. Terry asked.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything…” you chimed in, not wanting to be left out. 

“Oh that’s cold, you both got jokes. You, put some lotion and clothes on. And brush your teeth,” Mr. Terry said. 

“Good night, Troy!” You called after the little boy as he took off towards the bathroom. 

“Good night! See you tomorrow!” He yelled.

“It’s safe to turn around,” Mr. Terry said.

Naw, it really wasn’t. But you took a deep breath and turned around anyway. Somehow, the second time seeing him in all his sweaty glory was just as heart-stopping as the first time. You forgot all about your guilty activities as you openly stared at him in the kitchen.

It was by no means a small kitchen, but it felt claustrophobic standing there. As if his presence was a physical force field pressing into you from all sides. It was your stupid crush on the man that made you all tongue tied when you got around him. 

“I hope he didn’t bug too much. I know he has a big crush on you,” Mr. Terry said. 

You waved your hand. “He’ll grow out of it,” you said. They always do. But you kept that little tidbit to yourself. Though…you did want to ask about the pretty comment Troy mentioned earlier. But you were too chicken. Instead, you stood there awkwardly in this man’s kitchen for no reason. Other than to count the drops of drool pooling in your mouth.

“I should get going,” you said. Your chest was still beating rapidly and you needed to get out of his immediate vicinity. Like right now. You washed out the cup you used.

“You didn’t have to,” he said.

You giggled. “Now, what kind of guest would I be if I didn’t clean up after myself?” You could clean up for other people but when it came to yourself, you lost all motivation to do so. It was the ass-backwards manners you were brought up on, but hey. It wasn’t like anyone was coming to visit your messy bedroom anyway. 

“Let me walk you home then,” Mr. Terry said. 

“I’m just next door,” you said. You dried off the cup and replaced it in the cabinet. He stepped out of the way so that you could walk past him. His eyes tracked you as you moved through the living room, collecting your homework and pens. 

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?” Mr. Terry asked.

“Oh, you’re a gentleman now,” you said and giggled. Did you have a flashing neon sign professing your guilt? Or did your guilt make you suspicious of everything? Because right now, it seemed like Mr. Terry was employing high level interrogation tactics, staying cool and calm while he let your guilt do the talking for you. 

“I’ve always been a gentleman,” he said. 

You could only giggle, too nervous to say anything else as you loaded up your backpack and threw on your cut off jean jacket. Terry’s mesmerizing hazel eyes followed each movement. Were you that bad at acting? Was he about to tell you that he had cameras in his room and knew exactly what you did on Wednesday nights? 

You needed to get a life and a half. Because the thought of getting caught only made it that much naughtier. Your imagination ran wild thinking of ways he could punish you for it. Preferably with a spanking. You bet those beefy hands would give a good one. 

“H-How was work?” You asked. Damn, that sounded nervous, didn’t it?

“Same old story, different day,” he said.

You nodded. You sucked at conversation so you promptly shut your trap and walked with him outside of the door. The night air was crisp, the late January night so frigid that you could see clouds of your breath escape with each exhale. Dew collected on the blades of grass outside of Mr. Terry’s house and it soaked into your flat sandals, tickling your toes.

“How’s your degree goin’?” Mr. Terry asked, breaking the silence.

“Good. Though I think one of the professors hates me,” you said. You sucked your teeth, thinking of Mr. Shoop, your English teacher. If you didn’t have a comma in the right place, he marked you down for one reason or another.

“I’m sure it’s impossible to hate you,” Mr. Terry said.

You snorted with laughter, immediately censoring yourself as you released the ugly laugh. He didn’t need to hear all that. You cleared your throat and shrugged, telling him about the latest run in with Mr. Shoop. You made one little comment about the current book you were studying in class, and now he had it in his head that you were an uppity Negro. 

“Fuck him, then. You’re supposed to challenge the status quo in college,” Mr. Terry said.

You giggled and crossed the low cement border to your own place. The grass was less green, more brittle and dead because no one in the house fucking cared about aesthetics. This was not your forever home. Once you graduated, you were getting the fuck out of here as if your pants were on fire.

“You ever go to college?” You asked.

“Naw. Enlisted as soon as I turned 18,” he said. His voice was like sweet honey in the middle of spring. It didn’t belong on this cold, quiet night in the ‘burbs. “It’s why I want Troy to focus on his grades. Make sure he has every opportunity I didn’t.”

The automatic porch light turned on bathing you both in its warm, yellow glow. It also highlighted your ugly brick porch with the mailbox half hanging off of the wall. You cringed as you climbed the steps but focused on the conversation. 

“You’re doing an amazing job with him, Mr. Terry,” you said.

He scrunched his face, most definitely like Troy, and shook his head. “It’s just Terry,” he said. 

“Yeah but –”

Mr. Terry stepped closer to you, drawing up to his full 6’3 height and looked down at you. You hoped he couldn’t hear your painful gulp.

“No buts. I’m not stepping down until you agree. We’re damn near the same age,” he said. 

You opened your mouth to argue the point but his fierce eyebrows drew down in a challenge. You reared back with a grin and Mr. Terry’s eyebrow shot up in a dare. You licked your lips and nodded. Okay, touché. 

“Terry,” you said, trying it out. It still sounded so wrong. 

“Say it again,” Terry said, his eyes drooping lower. 

“Terry,” you nearly whispered. Terry - gah, that was still so weird - leaned forward and for half a second, you thought he would kiss you. That he would plant those gorgeous pink lips on yours and kiss your sandals right off your feet. 

Instead, he chuckled and then looked down. He shook his head and then stepped back. “My job isn’t done until you’re safe inside,” he said.

“You take this pretty seriously, huh?” You asked. Stupid. Why the hell would a man like that kiss his babysitter? Probably saw you as some teenager next door, even though he was correct. You were almost the same age. But he was more mature and put together than you could ever hope to be. 

“Very seriously,” he agreed. 

You dug in your jacket pocket for your keys, the tips of your ears aflame as you continued to berate yourself. To be clear, you knew you were pretty but you got tongue tied around gorgeous men. Regular men you could deal with. They were the regular, easy pickin’s off of any vine. But Terry was like a fully baked apple pie sitting in a window somewhere. Mouth watering, steamy, and sinfully tempting.

Men like that went for super thin fashion models or apparently, screaming harpies who liked to belittle men. And just like that, you remembered that he was technically married. There was no way that an upstanding man like Terry would step out on his wife, separation or no. 

“Well, the neighborhood is safe since we have a man like you to keep watch,” you said. You turned the lock and opened the door, waving goodbye over your shoulder. Terry waved to you and then took off down the porch, clapping his hands together as he went back to his own house.

You closed and locked the door behind you, leaning your back against it as you sighed. That was entirely too close. But in your defense, he typically showed up after Troy was done with his bath. You’d have to get your snooping down to a more manageable time. 

You groaned and headed to your room, bypassing the discarded clothing on the floor and random water bottles thrown about the foyer area. Pigs. 

Living with two guys and another girl was the bane of your fucking existence. You and Gia had to put your foot down and explain that you weren’t their mothers or sisters or maids and you would not pick up after them. In rebellion, the two men, Andre and Malcolm, doubled down by not picking up after themselves either. 

So if one of them slipped on their own shirts or didn’t have clean dishes, that was on them. Money was tight as you went through grad school, but you had enough to eat out and find alternatives to cooking. To each their own in this fucking house.

You made it to your room and closed the door, turning on lights and getting ready for bed. You settled in for your third watch of Jujutsu Kaisen, sitting comfortably in Terry’s MCMAP shirt but your mind raced as you played tonight over and over in your mind. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Troy asked, the following Wednesday night. 

“Of course,” you said. 

“I like when you’re around. My dad doesn’t seem so sad,” Troy said.

Cue your heart breaking in three, two, one…you sighed and put your pen down on the coffee table. Right back in your regular seats, Troy continued with his social studies homework as if he didn’t just say the saddest thing ever. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

Troy stopped writing but didn’t look up from his homework. “Dad was sad a lot when Mom was here. But he smiles more when you’re around. So that means you can’t leave, okay?” He asked and looked back at you with a shy, sad smile on his face. 

“Troy, is that why you asked me to marry you? So I wouldn’t leave?” You asked. 

Troy nodded. “Plus you’re really pretty. And soooo smart,” he said.

Kids. You smiled and hugged him, bringing him closer to you. “You don’t ever have to worry about these things, okay? Your job is to do your homework and listen to your dad. I’m right next door. If you ever need anything, you come get me, okay?” You asked. 

Troy nodded but didn’t seem much convinced by your assurances. He was a kid but old enough to recognize when shit wasn’t sweet at home. With a mom like his, it was a wonder he stayed so innocent. 

You were playing fast and loose with semantics, but Troy didn’t technically ask you to keep the secret. Only if he could tell you one. You’d have to talk to Terry when he got home and make sure the man talked to his son. 

It couldn’t be easy trying to raise a kid in a broken home. The good Lord knew your own parents had a rough go of it. But Troy’s only concern should be which yogurt was in his lunchbox. Not his dad’s happiness or lack thereof. 

You helped look over his answers and helped him in the few areas he got wrong. You helped him solve the problem on his own, not just hand him the answers. “Alright buddy, bath time,” you said.

“Because girls like boys with good hygiene,” he recited.

“Exactly,” you said and nodded your head. 

Troy grabbed his homework and stuffed it into his binder. Then he turned to you with a serious expression on his face, entirely too much like his dad. He was eight. What eight year old needed to be so serious? 

“One day, I’ll be old enough to marry you,” he promised. 

You giggled. “You are going to meet the love of your life and forget all about little ole me,” you said. 

Troy shook his head and grinned. “I could never forget you.”

“You know what, you sweet talker. Bath time, now. You’re too young to think about marriage anyway,” you said with a giggle. 

Troy skipped into his room to put up his homework and then he trudged to the bathroom with a change of clothes and a fresh towel. You heard the bath water running while Troy hummed to some song you didn’t know. 

You checked your watch. After such a close call last time…you really shouldn’t. But it had become a ritual at this point. Your body compelled you to move, to go to his room and pretend for twenty minutes that he was coming home to you.

You didn’t actually want this type of domestic life but…well, who were you fooling? This was exactly what you had planned for your life. But as a nerdy, thickum Black girl with too much time on her hands, no one was exactly beating down your door for your hand in marriage. 

Let alone anything resembling sex. You’d become an expert at handling things yourself but you didn’t know what the actual act was like. And it was too embarrassing to tell grown ass men that you were a virgin and waiting on an actual connection before hopping in bed. 

Sue you, sex meant something to you. And you weren’t going to give up the cookies because some egg head batted his eyes at you and took you on one date. 

You spun around in Terry’s room trying to determine if he moved anything. Added anything. Removed anything. You just liked knowing him. Knowing a side of him that most didn’t get to see. It was what kept you going, something silly to keep your mind busy when school got too tough or the roommate situation sucked hot marbles. 

Your eyes caught on the book on his nightstand. He finally finished the historical novel. The new book he was reading was a crime novel and from the blurb on the back, it sounded pretty interesting. 

You were so caught up in the blurb and the first page, taking care not to disturb too much, that you didn’t notice Terry’s car pull up. Or his keys in the doorway, or him calling your name. You were so absorbed in it, that you dropped the book when Terry entered his room. 

“Oh,” you gasped. 

Your heart jumped to your throat as Terry smirked and tilted his head. “What are you doing in here? Where’s Troy?” He asked.

“Bath time,” you croaked out. Your throat turned dry and scratchy, pulling each word out as if it were being dragged over jagged glass. You had no good excuse for why you were in this man’s room, picking up his book, when you were supposed to be watching his son. 

What if Troy had drowned? What if he suddenly lit the house on fire? Shame made your stomach gurgle as your mind raced for any type of excuse or reason to be in his room. Babysitting 101 was watching your damn kid. 

Terry stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. You were frozen, rooted to the spot, heart beating rapidly and your fingers started to shake. What was he going to do? 

Terry walked closer until he bent down to pick up the discarded book. He flipped it over and dusted it off, being entirely too casual for your tastes. “What were you doing in here?” He asked, his voice too, too calm. 

You backed away towards the wall and shook your head. When your back collided with it, you were out of space. So you began to move to the side, sliding against the wall and trying to create some distance.

Terry turned with you, stepping in time with you, not letting you out of his sight. It was his right. It was his house after all. And you were the creepy pervert in his room. “I didn’t steal anything, I swear,” you said, your voice too small. 

“That’s not what I asked,” he said. He smirked as if this was all a funny misunderstanding. Like it was normal to find you being a creep in his room. 

“You don’t have to call the cops, I promise. I’ll leave and…I won’t come back,” you said. God, you didn’t even want to try and explain this to the cops or your family. You were completely mortified and disgusted with yourself. You knew you should have left it alone. 

“I didn’t say anything about the cops,” he said. He stepped closer to you and you smelled the sweat and overall male scent wafting off of him in waves. He wore a red shirt this time, soaked through with sweat and clinging to his well honed chest. 

He was tall as hell, looming over you whether he wanted to or not. You didn’t know this game he was playing and you just wanted to leave. You were at a loss of what to say or do. He blocked the exit with his body. There was just him. His broad shoulders, his wide chest, his hypnotizing eyes. 

“What were you doing in here?” He asked softly. 

“I just wanted to know you,” you said just as softly. It was a pathetic excuse but at least it was honest. 

“Why didn’t you ask me?” He asked.

You snorted with laughter before clicking your mouth shut. Terry’s eyebrows furrowed and he reached out to cup your cheek. You looked from his hand to his face. Was this man okay? Shouldn’t he be…angry? Upset? Confused? You’d broken his trust in the worst possible way. Got yourself plum fired over something so stupid. This wasn’t going the way you thought it would in your mind. 

“Why do you do that?” He asked. 

“Laugh?” You asked. God, you felt like an idiot. 

Terry smirked. “Stop yourself from laughing. It drives me nuts,” he said. 

“Oh,” you said. You shook your head and shrugged. “I have a weird laugh.” 

Terry leaned closer so that his nose rubbed against yours. “I keep waiting to hear it but you don’t ever let yourself laugh out loud,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes but you were slowly calming down from the threat of discovery. For the time being, it looked like Terry wasn’t going to smack you to kingdom come. This…you didn’t know what this was but you weren’t about to stop him either. This was the closest you’d ever been to him. Ever. You were going to soak up every detail before he kicked you out flat on your ass. 

“I didn’t know you were waiting to hear it,” you said. 

Terry leaned away so that he could look into your eyes. Fuck, he was so pretty. With his ever changing eyes, one of your favorite past times was trying to figure out what color they were. Sometimes they were so blue it would make the ocean jealous. Sometimes they were a stormy gray. Other times, they were a pale brown. It was insane but kept your mind busy. 

“You drive me crazy,” he said, the words slowly spilling from his lips with that subtle drawl. 

“Me?” You asked and snorted. Oh, if he only fucking knew… He drove you to distraction without even trying. One look, one sound from him and you were ready to bend over, ass up, and let him have his wicked way with you. 

“Is that surprising?” He asked. 

“Um…yeah,” you said and giggled. This was like the statue of David coming to life and asking a painting on a date. The mediums were both gorgeous but one was more lauded than the other. 

“I know I can be…serious,” Terry said. You snorted again and he tapped your nose. “But I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Like I was some creep, you know?” He asked.

“Yeah, well. I’m the one who was in your room, being inappropriate. I completely understand if you want to fire me…”

“Troy would kill me if I did,” he said and smirked. 

You giggled. “You’d still have the right to. I am really, really sorry,” you said. 

Terry’s hand moved from your cheek, down the sides of your body before landing on your hips. You gasped, your body tingling in areas you didn’t know you could tingle. Like his hands were a live wire and your body responded in the most unusual ways. 

“You always seemed so nervous around me. I thought I scared you,” he said.

“The opposite actually,” you admitted. Hell, at this point, you might as well lay it all out. Put yourself on a silver platter, ready to be served up to Terry’s mercy. His thumbs pressed into your tummy and you gasped, shivering. 

“The way you respond…have you ever been with anyone?” He asked. 

You shook your head. You didn’t have the words to say you were a virgin. Didn’t want to be even more of a loser in his eyes. Terry cursed softly under his breath and shook his head. 

“So no one’s ever touched you? Why not?” He asked. 

You licked your lips and shrugged. “Guys just don’t like me like that.” It was the only answer you had to give. You were the in-between friend. You were the holdover friend people had before they found their forever person. Without fail, any man you were interested in went on one or two dates with you before suddenly finding the light of their fucking lives. 

After the last guy literally went to the bathroom on your date and came back with someone else’s number, you swore off any hunt for a partner. What was the point? You wasted outfit after outfit, faced disappointment after disappointment, and well, you just wanted off of the merry-go-round. 

Terry tilted his head before stepping away. He pulled you towards his dresser and made you face the mirror. He pressed in behind you and you sighed, feeling a bulge rub against your ass. 

You stared at his face in the mirror and watched as his face ran through a gauntlet of emotions. Like he was fighting with himself and losing the battle, fast. He placed his chin on your shoulder and then sighed.

“What do you see?” He asked.

“Me…and you…” You said. You weren’t trying to be a dumb ass, but it seemed like he was playing chess while you were playing Bingo. 

Terry smirked. “What do you see when you look at yourself?” 

You took a deep breath. You began to describe the features that you saw in the mirror. The way you did your hair, the way you did your makeup, the jewelry that you wore. Terry shook his head. 

“I see a sexy, beautiful woman. I see someone that drives me fuckin’ nuts. A woman that makes me want to do awful, disgusting things to,” he said.

“Ahh,” you said and shivered from the intense look in his hazel eyes. 

Terry’s hands moved up to cup your breasts over the top of your bodycon dress. You chose the burnished orange one today, once again at the mercy of Malcolm who acted like he was the only one who could use the fucking washing machine.

You moaned and bowed forward but Terry’s hands kept you upright. No one ever told you how different it was for someone to touch you as opposed to touching yourself. Everything seemed more intense, more lively, more electric. 

“And I just can’t hold myself back anymore. Tell me to stop,” Terry said. He moved his head to kiss your neck, your jaw, and behind your ear. 

You moaned, body shivering from how good he felt. How right his hands felt on your body. He pulled the top of your dress down, cupping your bare titties in his hands and pinching your nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, knees getting weaker the more he tugged and pinched and pulled. Your pussy responded, throbbed, and you grew wet instantly soaking your panties. 

“Tell me to stop,” Terry said, near begging as he continued to kiss and lick on your skin. 

“I-I can’t,” you sighed. How could you tell him to stop when this was the only thing you ever wanted? The only thing you ever dreamed of? 

“If you don’t tell me to stop, we’re going to cross a line. I need you to say it, please,” Terry said. As he spoke, his hands gripped the sides of your dress and pulled until your dress pooled around your hips.

You moaned as his fingers touched your thighs, fingers digging in and massaging you. His hands moved towards your panties, cupping you over the flimsy fabric. There was a thin layer separating you from what you most wanted. 

“I can’t say it. You have to be the stronger one,” you said. He had to be. Because at this moment, there was nothing you would deny him. If he wanted a star from the Hollywood Walk of Fame, you’d be there the next day with a jackhammer and crow bar. 

Terry dropped his head to your shoulder and groaned, his fingers moving closer to the seat of your panties. “I need you to say it,” he said.

You shook your head. You leaned forward and planted your hands on the dresser top, no longer able to support yourself standing. You were absolutely weak in the knees, ready to collapse at any given moment. 

Terry’s left hand snaked around yours and grasped yours, fingers tangling. His right hand finally pushed your panties aside and he groaned, finding you soaking wet. “Fuck,” he moaned. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned. 

It was wildly different for his fingers to be there instead of your own. He moved expertly, soaking his fingers with your essence and playing with your clit. You shook violently on his fingers, too in your head to enjoy what he was doing.

“Breathe,” he whispered. 

You sucked in deep pulls of air, your breathing returning to a normal rhythm. You nodded though you were out of your mind with pleasure. With feeling. His fingers plunged into your pussy and you cried out. 

“Shh, shh,” he whispered.

Right. Right. There was an entire kid taking a bath at the moment. And here you were letting his dad play with you like a damn fiddle. You couldn’t find one ounce of regret. One ounce of shame. 

His fingers helped you find heaven, light exploding behind your eyelids as your stomach twisted and caved from the pleasure he was delivering. His left hand tightened on yours as you got closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“Fuck, fuck me. Please,” you begged. You needed to know what it felt like. Needed to know right this second what he felt like getting inside you. Your pussy was empty, aching, begging for his dick and you pushed your ass into his bulge to get him to cave. 

Terry groaned and pushed into you, pushing your hips against the edge of his dresser. He moaned as he dry humped against you, timing his wrist movements with his strokes. 

“No condom,” he panted in your ear.

“Please,” you begged. You whined, you cried. You didn’t have a fucking clue what you were saying, only that you needed that bulge inside you. NOW. 

Terry bit your ear. “I’m not gonna endanger you,” he said. 

You collapsed forward. He leaned against your back and then got down to business. Rubbing your clit in circles until you leaned up on your tip toes and bit your lip as you came, flooding his fingers with your slick as the orgasm rocked you on the spot. 

Your world quaked, cracked in half, and then was brought back together by Terry’s grunts and groans. As you came down, you panted and huffed, no energy left in your body. Terry withdrew his fingers and then brought his fingers to his mouth and suckled.

You watched him in the mirror as he closed his eyes. “Fuck,” you huffed. 

Terry winked at you as he adjusted your panties and your dress. You opened your mouth plenty of times but there were no words to be found. What could you say? What could you do? 

“Helllooooooooo,” Troy called out. He sounded as if he had been calling out for a minute. 

Terry adjusted himself and then kissed your neck. “Don’t move,” he said.

He left the room and you heard him talking to Troy. He told the boy to brush his teeth and Troy tried to argue until Terry threatened to check his toothbrush. Troy laughed and his footfalls ran back to the bathroom. 

You were still stuck in the same position you were before, hands planted on Terry’s dresser as if his command not to move had to be followed to the letter. You looked down at the pictures on his dresser, of his smiling wife and son. 

Yet somehow…fuck her. You didn’t feel any guilt fucking her man in what used to be her bedroom. You didn’t know where she was or if she was even coming back. You didn’t hold any expectations. Only that you wanted what you wanted and you weren’t going to apologize for it. If this was the only thing you got from Terry, then so be it. Because it was…life changing. 

Terry re-entered the room and closed the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder. “We’re going to talk about this.” 

You nodded. Yes, there definitely needed to be a discussion about this. “Not tonight,” you said.

Terry tilted his head at you. “I mean…we both need to cool down and Troy needs you. We’ll talk tomorrow? When you get home?”

Terry looked as if he wanted to argue. He rubbed his goatee and sighed heavily. But he had to know you were right. The last thing you wanted to do was interrupt Troy’s routine. Doubly so now that his mom wasn’t home. God, that poor kid had enough to deal with. 

Terry nodded but turned you around to look at him. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. “We’re going to talk about this. Tomorrow. When I get home.” 

You nodded. Terry pulled you close, giving you a tender, beautiful but way too quick kiss and then let you go. You gathered your nerves and then left his room, looking out for Troy. Not seeing him, you hurried over to your homework and gathered it up, stuffing it into your backpack haphazardly. 

You were ten kinds of turned around. You needed to freak out about this before you could have an adult conversation about what happened between you. Time to lock down your emotions and feelings so that when Terry gave you “that talk”, the one about how this couldn’t happen again, you would be prepared. You wouldn’t embarrass yourself by begging, screaming, throwing up for not having another chance to explore more. 

But…you said you’d be happy with this. And you would be. You so would be. This was…honestly the best outcome you never planned for. You finished and pulled on your sweater and walked towards the front door.

Terry called out to Troy that he was walking you next door and you said goodbye to Troy. The night didn’t seem quite so cold this time around. Perhaps your body was still flushed, reliving the best orgasm of your life. 

Your shoes crunched beneath your dead lawn as you hopped up the porch. Terry stopped you with a hand on your arm. He rubbed his thumb back and forth but didn’t say anything.

What was there to say? He rocked your world? He shifted your axis? Up was down and down was up thanks to the power of his fingers? His fingers. Lordy lordy. Maybe you wouldn’t survive getting fucked by him. You were glad one of you had the presence of mind to be safe and not fuck without a condom. 

“Tomorrow,” you promised.

Terry nodded and then waited for you to get inside before trudging back to his place. And no matter how many times you tried to feel bad, the only thing you could think of was his face as he moaned and his fingers buried to the knuckle in your pussy.

I just ain't slowing down any time sooooon. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[umemiyan]

sorry but calling welt “daddy” would fix me

[lovelyghst]

ex-boyfriend simon riley making you admit you still love him if you wanna cum <3

he can be such a jerk sometimes! calling you up one evening, claiming he was just wanting to check in on you and how you know how overbearing protective he can be sometimes, acting surprised when you snapped at him barely after his greeting.

“what has you so frustrated, hm, dove?… christ, can practically feel you seethin’ through the screen.”

you bit your tongue and gave him the truth over the phone; how he shouldn’t be calling you without warning like this considering you’ve broken up, and it’s inappropriate to be labeling you those sweet pet names you unfortunately and unknowingly still adore deep down.

how you don’t appreciate his abrasive bluntness, then again, he should know very well that you never have liked that part about him.

you told him the truth, though you couldn’t be entirely honest with him, in the sense of how fucking needy you’ve become with his absence. for touch and care, proximity and security, and all that.

but you are over him, undoubtedly, and you let him know that.

“yeah, baby, whatever you say…

…bet you rub that little cunt raw every night thinkin’ve me.”

and that shut you up quick.

he hummed in understanding, like your silence was readable.

“poor girl prob’ly hasn’t had any proper attention since i’ve been gone… shame such a pretty thing has to be so neglected, eh?”

butterflies invaded your tummy at the compliment, and you cursed yourself for your hasty, blind acceptance of it. but you can't blame yourself; what girl wouldn’t at least begin to crumble at that voice?

“i’m right, yeah?” he taunted, and it almost made you sick when you caught yourself rubbing your thighs together at his meanness.

“c’mon, sweetheart… you know you can be honest wi’ me.”

and god, was his cocky tone so infuriating; you wanted to reach through the phone and slap his smug face straight for overstepping your relationship’s boundaries so blatantly, and with such a deeply rooted nonchalance in his voice that always had you heated and wet.

“say the word, ‘nd i’ll come over and fuck you right now.”

…which is why you had eventually asked him oh, so nicely:

“please..?”

you could practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face, followed by the faint noises of boots hitting hardwood floor and then the clicking of a door’s lock, the obnoxious ringing of keys clanging together.

“just give me ten minutes, doll.”

and now, as he bullies and buries his cock deep in your warm cunt, reaching all those sweet spots you or another man could never even come close to, you can’t really think much of his misbehavior.

truthfully, you can’t think much of anything at all, at the moment.

he had teased you prior to finally managing his way inside you, for god knows how long. his mouth, his fingers, his cockhead; all had brought you to the edge rather quickly, over and over after each other, but he was yet to give you that final push.

he puts his full body’s weight on you, strong pecs pressed up against your heaving, sensitive tits, and his stubble tickling your neck unceasingly. you can’t stop squirming and writhing beneath him, and his hot groans right up against your skin aren’t helping, either.

it’s always been a feat taking his cock, being crammed in your precious cunt almost every night when you two were together, but now it’s been weeks, and you nearly forgot just how big he was.

you missed it, admittedly. all of it; the veins and ridges, the unforgiving stretch. the slight twinge of pain he always hushed with his fingertips pressing your swollen, little clit, or a calloused thumb shoved between your puffy lips to suck on and drool over to distract yourself.

you missed his stamina, his libido. most striking of all, his selflessness in the entire act. he’s a soldier, he serves you right. most times.

“fuckin’ christ, sweetheart… missed this tight, messy thing wrapped ‘round my cock… practically stranglin’ me ‘n with no remorse, eh?”

shit, and you missed his dirty talk most of all.

“gonna fill this pretty, little pussy… keep ‘er happy all night, make up for lost time with my girl.” he wraps his hand gently around your jaw, making your eyes meet his. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you nod frantically, swallow as best you can, before sucking in a breath. “yeah— yes, please, si… i-i want it really bad… please.”

he kisses your lips with a smile, and then all over the side of your face, up to your forehead. he just can’t seem to stop kissing you.

“tell me, sweetheart. y’wanna cum, too?”

“i do, si—! i really, really do- fuck, please?” you beg and beg, and as much as it turns him on, digs at his heart to just give in, he sticks to his guns and merely adds:

“then say the words, pretty girl,” he coos, making you whimper in frustration. “that’s it, y’know what i wanna hear.”

you huff a whine in response, albeit your breath is strangled when he doesn’t halt his movements for even a second.

you really, really don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

he’s nearly panting himself, big chest and even bigger shoulders rolling upwards with every thrust. “y’ain’t cummin’ til i hear you say it, baby. c’mon, now. jus' admit it, that you still love me.”

he buries his cock to the very hilt, taking your slackened jaw tighter in his hand as he watches your eyes grow even hazier from his pelvis rubbing up against your vulnerable, needy clit. the stern look he gives you tells you he's serious about his last statement, but you'll later swear you sensed a bit of sadness, even despair in his expression.

“i love—” you choke on your own breath, desperate to sputter out the words. “i love you, si…”

and he practically has hearts in his eyes. “you mean it?”

“yes—! yes i do, i promise i still love you, please,” you spill, sounding closer to a temper tantrum than anything. “just lemme cum, please, si… really need it, please, i-i’ve been good...”

he hums lowly, contented, satisfied for once. as if those three words themselves — i love you — are the ones actually stroking his fucking cock. his ego maybe, you’d think, but jesus.

if you knew just how badly off he was beforehand, you never would’ve let him get this cocky and in control.

“love you too, sweetheart.” he kisses your puffed out lips, wipes a tear you hadn’t even noticed was trickling down your cheekbone. “always been my good, patient girl, haven’t ya?”

you nod once more, pinched brows and bleary eyes doubling in severity at his soft tone. simon praising you and being so, so uncharacteristically sweet has always made you fawn after more, even now. especially now.

“tha’s right, baby, you’re my good girl… now do me a favor and cum on my cock for me, yeah? lemme feel every last bit of ya.”

he ultimately resumes moving inside you, and it makes you wonder when he ever even stopped. your brain shuts off when he snakes a hand between your bodies, smoothing over your tummy before his middle and ring fingers quickly find your tortured, little bud. pressing hard, making you writhe with oversensitivity.

he works you over the edge diligently, and embarrassingly fast on your part, taking into account just how long he had edged you for. the sight and sweet noises you make are a dream; a reality he awfully missed, and something no other girl could compete with.

"that's it... easy, sweetheart," he coos softly.

he gives you a moment to come down from your high, softly palming your throbbing cunt to assist in grounding you, but you're barely able to finish catching your breath before he's doing it all over again! resuming flicking at your clit, rubbing you harshly and overstimming you enough to make you fruitlessly jolt and cry out beneath him.

he frowns down at you, damn-near condescending. "again, for me?"

you twitch and moan relentlessly as he gradually coaxes another orgasm from your tuckered body, his cockhead hitting that part deep enough inside you to make you see stars, his hard abdomen pressed against your tummy making the pressure of it all skyrocket tenfold.

the sensation of you finishing around his length once more has him barreling into his own orgasm, and soon fucking his pent up cum deep into your cunt with a few hard thrusts and a grumbled, broken groan right at your temple.

endless praises spill from his lips as everything becomes a blur for you; from the moment he's pulling out of your used cunt—crawling down and giving it and your pretty tits a couple sloppy kisses before briskly redressing himself—to being coddled in bed and squished between his muscular arms and torso.

he holds you so close to him that it makes you wonder why, or even how you could ever turn your back to it. he truly makes you feel like a spoiled doll in this sort of space. a doll with shaky legs, ruined makeup, and half a conscious.

"remind me why we broke up again?" he chimes.

you groan aloud, burying your face somehow further in his chest. "shut up, simon."

he laughs softly, pestering you with even more quick kisses, one after another to the crown of your skull. large hands rubbing up and down your back, moving to knead at your ass and thighs for a short moment. he just loves touching you so much.

“c’mon, pretty girl. let’s go get you cleaned up,” he mutters with an exhale. "how's a hot bath sound?"

you have no time to interject, other than a displeased pout and shake of your head, before you’re being hoisted up on your wobbly legs, then swept up and carried to your restroom when you couldn’t even make it three steps before your knees began to buckle on you.

you’re dizzy, utterly dazed and half asleep as he bathes you. making sure you don’t lift a finger as he works, treating you as nothing less than a princess. your loosened muscles somehow melt even more with his precise touch and strength, and you remember just how much you love being turned utterly numb and dependent on him.

you’re pretty sure you fell asleep the moment you were wrapped in a warm towel, pulled into the strong embrace of his meaty arms, but something he said moments beforehand had stuck with you.

“hey,” he whispered, soapy hand turning you to face him. he leaned in and kissed the area between your brows. “i’ll be better this time.”

“you promise?” you mumbled. your head fell atop your knees, arms wrapped around your legs and keeping them close to your body.

your extended pinky finger made him chuckle a bit, and he quickly looped his own around yours. solidifying his words. “promise.”

[gurugirl]

The Babysitter | dad!harry x babysitter!reader

Based on this request (changed some things - hope you still like it anon!)

Summary: The cute babysitter Harry's wife hired has always tempted him, but now that his wife is away for the evening Harry might just give in.

Word Count: 2,011

Warning: smut, cheating, implied age gap (your call on how large), inappropriate relationship (both consenting adults)

|main masterlist|

. . .

Harry was so fucked.

He knew better. A married man on the brink of ruining it all just for a taste of his kid’s babysitter. Truly, outrageously fucked.

He arrived home that day, knowing he’d have the house to himself all night with his wife gone out of town for a work trip. Knowing the cute babysitter would still be there, all doe-eyed and shy smiles. She definitely had a crush on him and he couldn’t stop thinking about that.

All day at work he went back and forth with the idea of it. The whole ‘fuck around and find out’ thing was more compelling when he might be able to get away with it. But it wouldn’t be worth it, he told himself even though he continued imagining what she’d feel like underneath him.

His actions completely contradicted that sound internal advice.

Because when he saw Y/n all cuddled up on his couch, a sweater draped over her shoulders and her bare legs stretched out long he allowed himself to stare for a moment. He shouldn’t have been thinking what he was but he couldn’t stop the blood rushing to his cock. He was going straight to hell for the kind of thoughts that were running through his head right then.

She slowly blinked her eyes opened and sat up with a sweet smile, “Hi. How was work?”

God, the cute, bubbly personality on her, even after just waking up from a nap… She hadn’t been tainted by years of grueling workplace drama and a sad and lonely marriage like he had and he found it refreshing.

“Was good. Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on hers, “Everything go all right today here?”

She nodded and moved her legs off the couch, feet hitting the floor as she nodded, “He’s the sweetest. It was a good day. He kept asking for mom so I think he’s upset that she wasn’t here this morning but I told him she’d be back tomorrow night. Fast asleep now.”

But there was something in the way she was looking at him. Like she was just waiting for him to pounce. Rounded eyes, with that shy smile as she bit the edge of her bottom lip. Like she knew what he was thinking, her own mind filled with the same filthy scenarios.

It was late. Harry always got home late on Thursdays. After dark. After his son was already asleep, and usually it was his wife greeting him.

She parted her lips as she let her gaze lower to just below the buckle on his pants and then back up to his eyes.

“Yeah. We’ll be okay without her for a night,” Harry swallowed thickly as he sat his briefcase down and moved deeper into the living room next to the couch where Y/n was still seated. “What about you?”

“What about me?” She raised her brows as she craned her head to look up at him.

“I mean… you alright too? Still seated like you’re tired. You can stay if you want.”

She blinked her eyes and then did it again, letting her pupils connect with the space at his crotch before quickly bringing them back upward to his face, “Oh… I can go. I’m sorry…”

Y/n stood up quickly but Harry caught her by her arm, “It’s okay. You don’t have to go. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. Was really helpful having you stay late tonight.”

If she kept looking at him like that, those fuck-me eyes and plush parted lips, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself.

“Oh. I’m glad. Was happy to help you out, Harry. I’d do it as often as you needed me to.”

He grinned and watched her moisten her soft lips when she poked her tongue out and looked up at him through her lashes. If she wasn’t begging for it he didn’t know what this was.

“You gonna stay?”

She nodded, still looking up at him as she tucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

In a moment of weakness, of sheer insanity, he raised his hand up to her face and thumbed at her bottom lip, “What’s going on, Y/n? You got something to tell me?”

She fluttered her lashes and leaned into his touch as she kept her pupils aimed right at him. But then her lips parted again and Harry found himself sliding the tip of his thumb between her lips before she wrapped her mouth around it and he felt her tongue gently lave against his pad.

Now he was the one with parted lips as he watched his kid’s babysitter suck his thumb into her mouth, eyes pinned to his still.

And before he knew it, he found himself fucked in the figurative and literal sense as he had her face down on his mattress with his cock nudged into her so deep she was keening and hissing at the bite of pain his fat length was causing.

“Shhh… be a good girl and keep quiet, yeah?”

“Mmmm!”

It was so good. It was so fucking good. He hadn’t been laid in a couple of months and the babysitter’s pussy was better than he imagined it would be. She was wet for him right away. When he got her very short shorts off her legs and buried his face between her soft thighs she was already so sensitive and dripping, wiggling and moaning like she was just as pent up as he’d been. Like she wanted it just as bad. She’d made a big mess of him and the sheets but he’d deal with clean up later.

Because when he finally pushed his throbbing dick inside of her welcoming pussy it was game over. He had her hips in both hands, tightly gripping the meat at her sides as he buried in over and over again, letting her juice coat every inch and wet his pubes with her fragrance. He watched as he stuffed her with his cock, her cute ass perked upward and she pushed back on every one of his thrusts. So pretty.

Everything was slick and gushy as he plowed into her guts, slapping his hips into her ass. He kept looking at the bedroom door (which was closed and locked) out of habit just in case, but now he was out of his mind as she trembled and drooled against the pillow his wife used.

He slowed his plunges and watched his shaft as he pulled out, “Fuck… got me all creamy, baby. Why don’t you flip over so I can see your pretty face?”

She was shaky as she dropped down to the bed, scooting herself to adjust and then spreading her thighs as he tucked right back inside of her, pelvis dipping against her own.

“Harry…” Y/n quietly breathed as she watched him. He was so thick and long, just like she knew he’d be. She never thought he’d ever step out on his wife but here he was, with his big cock driving into her, making her squelch and stretch wide for him. She almost couldn’t believe it was happening.

Harry groped at her tit, still on his knees as he steadied himself, his thighs working in, “Oh sweet girl…” he panted, quads and glutes flexing with every motion. He picked up her hand and brought her fingertips to his mouth, kissing as he pumped himself through her walls and then dragging his lips down to her palm and then wrist.

“Oh my god…” she whined before draping her arm over her mouth to keep her volume down.

“Who knew you were so filthy? Look at you letting a married man fuck your brains out.”

A muffled moan sounded from her throat as she felt him jerk into her harder, the coarse hair at the base of his dick scratched at her clit before he began to grind his hips against her, adding friction like he knew that was what she was searching for with her hips rising to meet him with every thrust.

“But look at how lucky I am. So pretty… Hot little pussy, fuckin’ drenched, baby. How long were thinking about this, hmm?”

Harry did feel lucky too. Y/n was a hot little thing that he’d had some pretty dirty thoughts about since they first hired her. It was his wife’s choice. Y/n was in her senior year of university with long smooth legs and an adorable shy smile that caught him off guard the first time he saw her. So he always looked forward to seeing her every morning before leaving for work, or in the early evenings when he’d come home to relieve her.

Harry grabbed her other hand, moving her arm from her mouth as he brought those fingers up to his lips to kiss every one of them as he threaded their fingers together on her other hand, never stopping the movement of his hips.

With the back of her hand pressed into the blanket next to her shoulder, she inhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath. “Since I first met you…” she admitted.

Harry grunted, running his tongue along her wrist before folding his fingers into hers like her other hand and then pressing it down to the bed as he leaned over her, pelvis grinding against hers, his balls squeezing against her bum. And that was fucking deep.

“Oh yeah? Fuck, coulda been fucking this pretty pussy for the last few months. Making you come for being such a good girl and just for looking so fucking cute all the time.”

She moaned softly, “It feels so good…”

Harry grinned down at her, feeling her start to squeeze and pulse, “It does doesn’t it? Such a bad thing to feel this good. Might be trouble for us.”

“Mmmm…” she panted and then gasped as she was thrown over the edge, walls gripping and milking his cock.

Harry watched Y/n as she fell apart, “There you go, such a good girl, so pretty, baby…”

Harry gritted his teeth as he fucked her through her orgasm.

He was already leaking precome and practically shaking by the time he pulled himself out and pumped his fat cock right over her tummy. He’d have loved to have just come inside Y/n’s pussy but what he was doing was already dumb as it was.

He grunted and sucked in through his teeth, “Oh fuck…”

He’d gotten a little come on his knuckles as he ran his fist down his shaft, letting the last bits drip out onto the girl below him. A pretty sight. She was all fucked out and dazed, tits rising and falling with every breath, his come marking her tummy and her pussy freshly fucked, still soaked.

He was a gentleman, helped her clean up, and kissed her a little bit more before sending her on her way with a playful swat to her ass. He’d have loved to ask her to stay all night but he worried that that would just confuse things further. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone and Harry said it wouldn’t affect her job and that it would be their secret. Though he did hope he’d have another chance to feel her again one day, he didn’t count on it. His wife was returning the following day and Y/n was soon to finish off her last year of college and she wouldn’t be needing a babysitting gig anymore.

Did he regret cheating on his wife? In that moment, he couldn’t say he did. He had fun and it felt so good to have sex with someone who wanted his cock as bad as Y/n did. He only hoped he didn’t get found out and as long as Y/n kept up her end of the bargain (he was sure she would) he figured the whole thing was a win.

He’d just need to keep himself in check around her when his wife was present. But when his wife wasn’t around he couldn’t promise anything.

. . .

PART 2

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[krosiefics]

would you like that? • bang chan

M D N I 18+

WC: 1.4k

Summary: Bang Chan is having too much fun teasing Stays on Bubble while he’s supposed to be working, he suddenly starts teasing you as well and that escalates to well…

A/N: lmfao I honestly called us (stays) out for writing shit on the internet but I like to think of it as ‘creative writing’ Also this isn’t proof read so, sorry abt any typos or mistakes :P

Tags: afab!reader, softdom!bangchan, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), grinding, overstimulation, ass grabbing(?)-not ass play), teasing, pet names (babe, baby, good girl, pretty, etc), breeding kink, I’m prob forgetting some so sorry

Chan giggled at his phone as he saw the flow of flustered responses to his latest Bubble message. “You’re teasing them too much.” You shake your head, peeking over his shoulder reading all of Stay’s responses. “No I'm not.” He scoffs, “They’re far worse than you could ever imagine.” It’s true and you know it, Stay’s write all sorts of things about the members online.

(a/n ;-;)

As one of Stray Kids’ managers, your job is to handle their social and music media, so you’ve seen things…things you probably shouldn’t have. Chan knows this and so he uses all these teases towards Stay as an advantage. “Let’s see, what should I say next?” Chan ponders to himself as you sit down on the sofa that sat behind his desk, you open your computer and as you’re about to start working on a new draft a loud giggle startles you.

Chan is curled up in his chair, kicking his feet giddily while looking at his phone. Growing annoyed at the man who is supposed to be working with you on new lyric drafts, you get up from your spot and snatch his phone gently from his hands. “Hey!” Chan pouts as you read the screen. Your face immediately heats up as you read the highly suggestive comment he left on someone’s post about pudding. “Chan, that's highly inappropriate!”

Chan was going to snap back but then noticed your face’s sudden change of color and he smirked. “Would you like that?” He teased, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite tell. It’s not abnormal for you two to playfully tease or flirt with each other, it helps ease the awkward moments of silence that sometimes fall between you. But this…this was different, it was as if he was testing you, to see if you’d give in to all of your playful remarks you’ve made over the past few years of knowing each other.

“What?” You breathe out shakily. Chan licks his lips, his eyes flickering down to your soft plump lips. Oh what he would do to feel them against his. Chan knows he shouldn’t think like this, especially since you’re one of his managers…yet he still craved you, there was just something about you. Chan’s hands crept up the sides of your legs, gripping at your hips and tugging you closer to him.

Due to the sudden tug, you almost topple on top of him, you hold yourself above his head on the headrest of his chair. Your face felt so hot, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the way your stomach fluttered, the way your breathing became hitched…all because of this man’s sudden change of teasing. “I’m not kidding.” Chan sighs, leaning his face into your neck. You could feel his breath fanning across your skin, it sent chills down your spine.

The sudden touch of his lips to your skin instantly made you jolt, but he held you in your place not wanting to let go of this moment. “Please.” Chan whispered as he continued to pepper your neck with wet kisses.

You didn’t know what was happening anymore, it all went so quick. His teeth grazed over your collarbone and you gasped in response, your hands flying to his hair. Now with the loss of support from the headrest, Chan easily sits you in his lap, having you straddle his lap. Your breathing fastens as you feel him nibble at your skin, biting your lip not to let any sounds come out.

Chan’s hands snake around towards your ass and grab it, massaging the flesh. You let out an accidental moan at his action, you bury your face into his neck out of embarrassment. “It’s okay baby, it’s just us here right now, it's too late for anyone else to be here. So you can be as loud as you want, yeah.” Chan starts leaving kisses on the top of your head.

You whimper at his noises and he chuckles, as he adjusts his seating position you feel something hard poke at you. You pull away from his neck to look down at what it was, your face turns even redder. The outline of his hardened cock bulging from his jeans.

Your mind filled with the possible outcomes on what could happen if you stop this or if you let this continue. There were too many risks, but so many benefits. You wanted the man underneath you, you always have. Chan’s overall personality is what attracted you to him initially, but the more spent time with him the more you realized that this guy is insanely hot, handsome, talented, caring, and a billion other positive things. You knew you couldn’t have him though, it was wrong.

But right now, you didn’t care. You didn’t care how wrong this was. You let your lust and desire take over you.

You experimentally rolled your hips against his, Chan responded with a low groan, his grip on your hips tightening. “Fuck that feel good babe, don’t stop.” And you didn’t. You rubbed against him until his breathing was fast like yours, his eyes screwed shut from the pleasure, and his face red and hot. Then you stopped.

Chan whined softly, his eyes fluttered open as he stared up at you. You carefully removed yourself from his lap. “Wait.” Chan simpered, lifting his body to get up after you. You simply placed a hand on his chest to keep him seated there. You walked over to the door and locked it, even though there shouldn’t be anyone here at this hour, it still didn’t hurt to be careful. Chan was about to beg you to stay when he saw you walking away, but he stopped as soon as he saw you lock the door, excitement flooding through his body.

“One time.” You pointed with your finger as if to make a statement, “This is only happening one time.” You quickly slide your shorts and underwear off which reveal a wet patch on the pantie liner from your arousal. Chan stared at you in awe as he saw your glistening cunt, he was quick to follow suit in taking off his jeans and sliding his boxers down as well.

You swing your leg over his lap sitting hovering above his hard cock. “Pretty girl I’ve gotta stretch you out first or it’ll hurt.”

“You’re not that big Bang.” You poke, it was a lie he was big, not super massive but definitely above average to the point where it probably might burn.

You grab his cock which makes the messy haired boy hiss, aligning up to your entrance before sinking on to it. It did burn, but it was tolerable, you just focused on the fact that it’ll feel better soon. To distract you from the pain Chan started rubbing soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs, he shushed as you started moving your hips in circles.

“Oh fuck.” Chan moaned after you finally adjusted, your hips letting up before smacking back down. “I’m gonna fill this pussy up so much right baby. You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up.” You throw your head back as Chan helps you with lifting your hips. You hum, nonsensically agreeing to whatever it is that Chan wants at that moment.

“Yeah, you’ll fill me up so good.” You moan.

Chan suddenly starts forcefully thrusting up into you, directly hitting your g-spot. “Oh fuck!” You almost scream, you quickly catch yourself by biting down onto Chan’s shoulder. He groaned as your teeth sunk into his skin, but he wasn’t complaining, cause now he’s gonna have a mark that reminds him of right now.

“C’mon babe, I’m almost there…shit,” Chan pushed your hips down as he rutted into your leaking cunt. You held onto him as the feeling of that familiar knot in your stomach started tightening, “Me too.” You shut your eyes as you allowed your orgasm to come putting down over you, you slumped against Chan’s chest as he continued plummeting into you.

You cried at the overstimulation, “I know baby, I’m sorry- I’m cumming.” Chan buried his face in your neck as he spilt inside of you.

The warmth of him filling up your insides. Chan carefully pulled out and cleaned you up with the small box of tissues that was at the corner of his desk. . And as if nothing, the two of you both went back to working on the lyrics. Occasionally sparing lustful glances at one another. Chan realized he’s not gonna be able to tease Stay again without thinking of you.

[dadsbongos]

local adventurers get body swapped and fuck sloppy style

2.5 K words / warnings - unprotected pinv sex, fem body for reader, oral (m+f receiving), slight choking, pwp, not super proofread

summary - something something marcille and senshi need medicinal herbs… its not important. you and chilchuck and laios get it on in each other's bodies

~~~

“Laios, I don’t know if you should touch those…”

“He definitely shouldn’t!”

Laios touches the vibrant orange flower petals, grazing his fingertips from the outer curl towards the neon yellow stigma, “I think if I press right here, then…”

“Laios!” Chilchuck shrieks at the same time you gasp, “No!”

A yellow powder spews from the now gaping stigma, clogging Laios’ entire head. In your shared panic to rescue the man, you and Chilchuck also inhale traces of the pollen. It tastes unexpectedly sweet, like ripe apples fresh from their tree -- it’s also incredibly disorienting. Head spinning and throat tight, you’re forced to clench your eyes while stumbling for either of the familiar bodies you’d arrived with.

You find one -- cold metal flattening your palm, though it’s strange -- what you’re touching is only the waist of Laios’ cuirass, but you’re reaching up. Your fingers just barely graze the lip of his arm opening.

Certain you’re not kneeling, and now uncertain that you’re sane, you open your eyes to gaze into the beaming reflection of… yourself. But this version of you has her hands skimming down her sides, nails biting the pouch over your tummy.

Glancing up, you find brown fingerless gloves covering your hand. You also find that you have to really stretch your neck to look up at Laios, who is staring down at you with a disturbed flinch.

“Laios?”

It's your own voice that heeds, “Yeah?”

Slowly, you swing your(?) head to face yourself, eyes wide, “Laios?”

“Yeah?”

With an uncertain, shivery hand, you point up at the armored blonde, “Chilchuck…?”

Laios’ voice whispers back your name before gently pleading, “Get out of my body…”

“I don’t know how!” you wail, tugging on brown hair just to feel the sting that confirms this isn’t some horrible nightmare, “Laios, what’d you do?!”

“If you squeeze this flower right, then it goes into self-defense mode and releases a pollen-like substance that switches people’s souls and bodies. Pretty neat, right?” his excitement with the flower is interrupted by a more carnal curiosity, “Can I feel?” he hovers your own hands over your chest and makes a squeezing motion, “I wonder if they’re as squishy as they look?”

“Sure…”

“Yay,” he murmurs, immediately latching to your chest, “Your breasts are so soft, and warm.”

“Thanks,” your naturally gentle tonation sounds odd, dissonant with Chilchuck’s agitated and shrill voice.

“Don’t let him fondle you!” Chilchuck, bizarrely, sounds natural in Laios’ body. Loud and resolute, “That’s so inappropriate!”

“I don’t mind, Chilchuck, really.”

“And don’t say my name with my own voice!”

“Sorry…”

“I wonder how you feel inside.”

Disturbed, you and Chilchuck’s heads turn toward where Laios continues to grope your (his?) chest -- his breaths shortening to gasps and lip sucked between his teeth.

“What’d you just say?” Chilchuck points a shaky finger at Laios.

If Laios finds looking himself in the face strange, he makes no indication. Merely beaming at Chilchuck in his body and shrugging while squeezing your boobs, “Isn’t it so cool that just pollen can swap us so perfectly? Why wouldn’t we try to explore each other’s bodies in a situation like this?”

Chilchuck’s embarrassment makes Laios’ cheeks flare red hot, an annoyed huff spiking past his clenched teeth, “It’ll only make things worse for the party in the long run! Inter-party romance is a terrible idea!”

“It’s not romance, just investigation.”

Before a punch can be thrown from the flustered Chilchuck, you lay a lithe hand on either man’s shoulder (pushing into the back of your mind how strange it is to call a hand smaller than your own yours), “Laios, you have to see how strange that sounds to people not as… curious as you.”

“But I’ve always wanted to know how your bodies work,” Laios frowns, “I get that we’re all humans, so it's basically the same thing and not as interesting, but when it comes to you two I just can’t help it. I want to know how soft your mouths are and how your joints roll in action,” he then peers specifically at Chilchuck, batting your lashes pathetically, “Especially your body, Chil, since I rarely see you do more than deactivate traps.”

“That’s because that’s my job! I don’t fight!”

“Chilchuck, he’s not judging you,” you move the hand on his shoulder down to his hand, Laios’ large palm massively overwhelming Chilchuck’s -- you’re captivated by the difference, “If Laios had a problem with you not fighting, I’m sure you wouldn’t still be in the party.”

“I just want to know how you both feel,” you could cringe at the sound of your voice saying something so naughty, but for the sake of Laios’ feelings you don’t, “Inside and out.”

“Did you consider how that’d be for us? Having to look our own faces in their face during something like that.”

“Like what? I just want to poke,” Laios stretches your fingers with a wiggle, “Maybe some fingering.”

That’d be more believable if Laios wasn’t such a terrible liar, his tells making your back straightening impossibly and knees buckling. Laios starkly dodges both yours and Chilchuck’s scrutinizing stares.

“We know you better than that. You’ll wanna go all out,” despite your inclination to give Laios the benefit of doubt, you’re forced to nod alongside Chilchuck’s accusation.

“Is that so bad?”

Is it?

You’re not as anatomically intrigued as Laios (at least pretends to be), but you can’t lie to yourself and say the men aren’t attractive. Laios is beefy yet kind, piercing amber eyes and soft blonde hair -- his arms look perfect for holding you down as he impales you with his cock. Chilchuck is slight and nimble, big brown eyes with thick lashes and silver hairs sprinkled through brown locks -- his dominable frame would be easy to ride until he’s got tears in his eyes and pleas flowing from his fussy lips.

“I don’t think so,” you move, stepping over to Laios’ side, “I think it could be worth a try.”

“No way!” Chilchuck glares at you for your betrayal, “There is no chance I’d ever do something so depraved!”

.

.

.

“This is so weird…” Chilchuck whines from Laios’ throat, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sight before him.

You, in Chilchuck’s own body, knelt beside Laios occupying your body as you both lick over his flushed erection. Laios seems to show no shyness, eagerly teasing your soft lips across his skin until he’s tonguing the underside. Meanwhile, you’ve got the smoldering head twitching on your tongue -- suckling softly before releasing your lips with a pop and laving the side with attention. Eventually, Laios bores of kitten licks and lowers towards the balls, giving you room to suck his penis into your mouth fully.

Chilchuck winds a hand, larger than he’s used to controlling, through your hair, peeking under his spare arm to watch Laios abuse your likeness. Blinking sweetly and humming while warming his own nuts with gurgled saliva. With advanced hearing, you can make out even the minute sound of Laios’ inferior gag reflex choking on his own balls.

You can also make out the deep rumble of Chilchuck panting and swallowing around his own arousal, lodged in his throat. Hoping to coax out the desire, you relax your gullet and bury your nose against flaxen pubes, making Chilchuck shudder and buck further into your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” he sighs, squeezing tighter around brown hair and shaking out your head before wrenching you back, “Wanna fuck your face.”

If you didn’t want him to as well, you’d be busy pointing out how your face is really his.

Instead, you moan eagerly and let your mouth hang open. Digging blunt nails into the handles on his hips for leverage as Chilchuck snaps into your gaping, velvety mouth. Spit gurgles past the rim of your lips, your sudden super hearing picking up every soft, throaty groan that spills from his chest. Despite his every effort to drown the sounds in kisses with Laios, you hear it -- you even hear how their lips mesh above your head.

Silky moans let out by your own voice, it’s startling. And arousing. Which makes it even more startling.

Chilchuck gasps and huffs abruptly, pulling you back to beat his cock against your puffy, raw lips. His whole body scrunches as broken, spotty moans dribble through him, shooting cum down your throat -- though having to bury his face into Laios’ neck (technically your neck) to avoid seeing his own face swallowing his seed.

With your own voice, heady and ragged with lust, Laios sprawls to the ground with spread legs, “I’m so hot,” he brainlessly bucks up against his roaming hand, eyes snapping to you, “How do you live like this?”

“I’m not horny all the time, Laios!”

Completely bypassing your protest, as per usual, Laios whimpers and undoes your trousers -- tickling a trembling finger down his (your) slit, “I need someone in me, please, please?”

You and Chilchuck stare at each other for a short while, silently debating who would be the one -- with newfound stamina in Laios’ body, Chilchuck could theoretically do it if he felt so greedy. Thankfully, he does not, and reclines beside Laios before pressing kisses into his neck while yanking you over by the belt. With eyes closed, he expertly undoes the pants to pull your brand new cock out.

Calloused, yet warm, hands stroke along your shaft in slow pumps before feeding your (his) tip into Laios.

Yours and Laios’ inexperience at the shared sensation is abundant in how you’re both gasping, sweat-slick messes. Laios wiggles further onto your cock, keening and back arching at the intrusion, while your hands are clammy and shaking on his hips. Your eyes can only stray as high as the breasts before things feel… weird… so you choose instead to obsess over the sight of your cock sliding in and out of a soaked cunt. Messy slick glinting in the sunlight, face melting with need, and all rational thought sucked into the tight clench of Laios.

Whining and leisurely thrusting into Laios, you close your eyes to fully absorb the sensations around you. Still, your heightened hearing can pick up the downright obscene gush of your sloppy, wet cunt being fucked open.

Chilchuck lays beside Laios, making you flinch at the unseen act of tracing his fingers around your cock in Laios to gather the splashing wetness before swirling the sodden pads into Laios’ clit.

“Ah!” your voice spikes, Laios grabbing Chilchuck’s wrist as if he could use your dwindling might to bat off his own strength. Chilchuck grins despite himself and continues abusing the bundle of nerves as desperation makes your drilling speed up. Laios wails and bunts eager hips to meet your thrusts, “Ah, ah, ah, ah- so good! This feels amazing!”

Laios presses the hand not clutching Chilchuck’s against your tummy, fingers prodding where cock batters his insides. Huffy little fuck, fuck, oh fucks leaving pouty, raw-bitten lips.

“Does it feel good?” Chilchuck laughs at you both, his sarcasm only being met with varied, broken ‘uh-huh’ responses. A thought brews in his following silence before he reaches up with a spare hand, “How about this, then?”

Suddenly, Laios’ large hand is wrapped around your neck, pressuring the sides to make your head spin.

Oh.

Oh that shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Sudden restricted air pushes your hammering hips into overdrive, gut fizzling and tightening until you’re certain you’ll combust from the inside. You squeeze bruises into your own hips as you slam into Laios’ pliant body.

“Oh my God,” he suddenly wails from your mouth, “I think I’m- fuck! - am I?” his breath hitches, eyes wide and thighs cinching around your pumping hips, “Oh my God, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it, then,” Chilchuck snides with lips still pressed to Laios’ neck, rudely pinching his clit, “Cum for us.”

“I’m cumming,” he babbles, throwing his head back, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

Laios’ complete lack of will obliterates your own, the intense milking of his orgasm around you practically pulling cum from your cock. You gasp under Chilchuck’s choking while stuffing Laios full.

As soon as you’ve pulled Chilchuck’s softening cock out, Laios darts a hand down to finger your abused cunt. Puffy lips parting around curious fingers, thighs twitching at the unwelcomed overstimulation. Mixed cum leaks onto his digits before he accidentally brushes a thumb over his own clit, sending his thighs clenching around his hand as he forces another orgasm from your body.

You blink, suddenly much drowsier than before, and when you open your eyes you’re on the ground. With twitching, aching thighs and a hand between your legs.

Before you can acclimate to the realization you’re returned to your proper body, large hands are spreading your thighs again. Laios dives in, much too excited, and licks along your slit with a seedy groan and pinched brows. As if he’s deriving pure pleasure from sucking your combined release out of your pussy. If anything, the unadulterated oddity and grossness confirms that Laios is, in fact, back in his own body.

“I remember you were needing a little something, big guy,” Chilchuck tiredly slumps against Laios’ side, reaching below the belt to tug Laios’ hardening cock, “Guess you do have a lot of stamina.”

“I wanted to taste it on my fingers before we switched back, but now I can have it on my real tongue,” Laios deliriously giggles, “How lucky is that?”

You’re given no pause to respond before he’s returning to tongue-fucking your spasming hole.

Chilchuck presses lazy kissing along Laios’ flushed skin, jostled slightly when Laios abruptly sits straight, bucking his hips into Chilchuck’s fist as he asks, “Can I cum on you? I want to taste us all together. I need to know- !”

“Fine!” you’re borderline shrieking, sniveling and sobbing in the overstimulation, “Yes, yes, cum on my cunt, Laios. Do whatever you want!”

As if waiting permission, once those words are uttered, Laios spurts across your heated groin. He wastes no time basking in his euphoria before drunkenly lapping up his cum dribbling across your pussy and into yours and Chilchuck’s juices.

“Feral,” Chilchuck notes, smearing the excess sperm across Laios’ thigh and collapsing by your side.

Quicker and more violent than you’d like, another orgasm swells from your tummy to your hips. Thighs clapping against Laios’ ears as his tongue lulls out to sap up your cum. Your nails scrape Laios’ scalp as you wrangle him back when you notice him trying to sink in for more.

“Laios, please!” you tiredly protest.

“Off,” Chilchuck says it short and curt, like training a puppy, as he bats Laios’ head.

Laios lifts his head and drops beside you as well, turning onto his side to stare at you both -- hands curled towards his chest for comfort, “That was fun. We should do it again, but with our normal bodies.”

Unbeknownst to Laios, both you and Chilchuck are passed out and tangled around on another. And unknown to all three of you, Marcille and Senshi are coughing and hacking out a plan to crawl out and search for your group on the hunt for medicinal herbs.

[gyutopia]

temptation | lee heeseung pt 2

⟶ summary: having just completed your graduate work in psychotherapy, you’re eager to begin a career as a marriage counselor. you land a job as a counselor at a matchmaking firm for millionaires and meet heeseung, a charismatic client who makes no effort to hide his attraction to you. the only catch is...he’s engaged.

˗ˏˋpairing: billionaire!heeseung x f!reader ❀ genre: marriage counselor au ❀ word count: 19.0k ❀ staring: chisa (22)- xg, yunho(23)- ateez, jaehyun(22)- bnd, heeseung (23) + jake (22) + jay (22) + sunghoon (22)- enhypen, sakura (24)- le sserafim, karina (24)- aespa, danielle (20)- new jeans. ⟶ warnings:mentions of anxiety and depression, therapy speak, lots of swearing, cheating, soft dom!hee, sub!reader, oral (f + m receiving), p in v intercourse, protected sex, dirty talk, praise, brief breast play, fingering, vanillaish sex, slight body worship, talk about childhood trauma, consumption of alcohol, mentions of abortion (not reader), invasion of privacy, inappropriate relationship dynamics, talk of assisted living, mention of a suicide attempt, allusions of starving yourself, mentions of anti- depressants, vague talk of ptsd, mentions of verbal abuse, heeseung doesn’t have good parents, physical altercation, online bullying (knets have a field day with u), heeseung is v insecure and has some emotional trauma. please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

✎୭: the full version, uninterrupted can be found on my ao3 here. thank you so much for reading this monster of a fic! i love and appreciate every single one of you!

SATURDAY FEBRUARY 22ND, 2025

It’s been a week since the kiss. A week since everything spiraled out of control.

You’ve been rotting away in your bed, hidden beneath blankets like a child hiding from monsters only this time, the monster isn’t under your bed—it’s in your chest, clawing at your heart every time you think about him.

The first thing you did the morning after was log into your work account and cash in some of your sick days. You needed a way to avoid the office, a way to avoid him. Dani emailed you a few small assignments, things you could complete from home so it was easy to play the role of someone mildly under the weather. A few sniffles over the phone and vague mentions of a stomach bug and Miss Min didn’t even question it.

Sakura still being in Japan has worked to your advantage. With her busy filming schedule, the usual meetings and updates have been sparse. Miss Min has been surprisingly lenient, perhaps assuming that you’re taking this time to recover before things pick up again.

But you’re not recovering. If anything, you’re unraveling.

You haven’t stepped out of your apartment in days, let alone made an attempt to eat properly or take care of yourself. The bare minimum—replying to work emails and completing small tasks—is the only thing tethering you to reality.

You know you’re running out of time. Eventually, Miss Min will expect you back in the office and when that day comes, you’ll have no choice but to face the truth. You’ll have to tell her to reassign Heeseung and Sakura’s case to someone else.

The thought of it paralyzes you. Once you remove yourself, that’s it. You’ll have no reason to see him anymore. No excuse to hear his voice or watch the way he absentmindedly taps his pen against the desk during meetings. No more pretending that you’re just doing your job when deep down, you know you’ve already failed at keeping your feelings in check.

Heeseung hasn’t reached out. Not once. No calls, no texts, no emails. Nothing.

It shouldn’t hurt this much. You’re the one who left his home without a word, too embarrassed to face what you’d done. You’re the one who’s been avoiding him like the plague hoping that the distance will make it easier to let go. But his silence feels like a confirmation of your worst fear—that he regrets everything.

The memory of that night replays in your mind on a loop. The way his lips felt against yours, the way he held you, the way he took care of you.

It’s torture, and you’ve trapped yourself in it.

Your friends have noticed, of course. How could they not?

It started with Yunho.

He texted a few days ago, saying he’d made a big batch of jjajangmyeon and that you should come over for dinner. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to eat anything Yunho cooked—he has a talent for cooking. But you declined claiming you weren’t feeling well.

His reply was immediate. 

5:25pm | yuyu💫: u never turn down food…are you sure ur okay?

You typed out a response. Deleted it. Typed out another. Deleted that one too. Finally, you settled on:

5:36 pm | you: i’m fine. just tired. thanks for the offer.

Then there was Jaehyun.

He called the following evening, his tone light and casual. “Hey, want to grab drinks after my shift? It’s been a while since we caught up.”

Normally, you’d agree in a heartbeat. Jaehyun’s presence was easy and comforting, and nights out with him always left you feeling lighter but the thought of facing anyone, even someone as laid-back as Jaehyun, felt impossible.

“I’m not in the mood,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

“Not in the mood for drinks?” he repeated, his tone disbelieving. “Since when?”

You forced a weak laugh. “Rain check?”

He didn’t press, but the concern in his voice lingered long after the call ended.

Finally, there was Chisa.

She didn’t bother with subtlety. One afternoon, she stormed into your room, keys in hand. “Get dressed,” she said firmly. “We’re going to the mall.”

You blinked at her from your cocoon of blankets, confused and slightly annoyed. “I’m good,” you muttered, burrowing deeper into your bed.

“I’ll buy you makeup,” she added, a note of bribery in her voice. “Whatever you want.”

Normally, you’d jump at the offer. You loved makeup, and free makeup was even better. But the idea of standing under bright store lights, pretending to be okay, was unbearable.

“I already have more than enough makeup,” you said, turning away.

Chisa didn’t argue. She just stood there for a moment, watching you with an expression that made your chest ache, before leaving the room without another word.

That was two days ago. It’s now past midday and you’re still in bed. The room is dark, save for the faint light filtering through the curtains. Your stomach growls but you don’t have the energy to cook let alone eat.

You’re about to close your eyes again when the door to your room bursts open.

“What the—?” You sit up abruptly, squinting against the sudden intrusion.

Your friends stand in the doorway, each of them wearing expressions ranging from concern to frustration.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice hoarse from disuse.

Jaehyun strides forward without answering, grabbing the edge of your blanket.

“Jaehyun!” you protest, clutching the fabric tightly. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you since you clearly can’t do it yourself,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’re used to.

“Stop it!” You tug back on the blanket, growing annoyed but Jaehyun doesn’t let go.

“Hey, hey,” Yunho interjects, stepping between the two of you. “Let’s all calm down.” He turns to you, his voice softer. “We’re just worried about you. You haven’t seemed like yourself lately.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m fine, just—”

“Sick,” Chisa interrupts, crossing her arms. “Yeah, we know. That’s what you want us to believe.”

Jaehyun scoffs. “You rarely missed a day of class in college, even if you were sick so excuse me if we’re not buying that excuse this time.”

You stare at them blankly unsure of how to respond.

Chisa steps closer, kneeling in front of you. Her voice is gentle as she says, “We’re just worried about you, ____. This isn’t… normal. Please, just tell us what’s going on so we can help.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. “I just needed a week off. I’ll be okay.”

Yunho sits beside you on the bed, his presence warm. “We can’t force you to talk about something you’re clearly not ready to share,” he says. “But at least let us help you.”

Jaehyun sighs, his frustration melting as he sees the tears threatening to fall. “We don’t have to talk about it. We can just order takeout and binge-watch early 2000s shows… just stop icing us out. Please. We love you and want to help you.”

The dam breaks.

You start crying, the sound raw and unrestrained. Your friends don’t say anything—they just surround you, pulling you into a group hug.

Yunho is the first to pull away, sniffling quietly as he stands. “I’ll order the food,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

Jaehyun follows, mumbling something about not wanting to cry in front of you.

Chisa stays, holding you until your sobs subside. She rubs your back soothingly and says, “Whatever it is, know that you’ll overcome it.”

You nod weakly, more out of instinct than belief. Deep down, you don’t think you’ll overcome this—not when “this” is Lee Heeseung. How could you possibly move on from him?

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this way about anyone before. It’s not just the heartbreak—it’s the way he made you feel so seen. You’ve spent so much of your life hiding parts of yourself, keeping your scars neatly tucked away but Heeseung made it feel safe to let them show.

Most people don’t know why you became a marriage counselor. You’ve always lied whenever the question came up, saying you “just love love,” but the truth is messier and darker. Your father’s infidelity, your mother’s quiet suffering and your own helplessness in the face of it all shaped you. You wanted to help people in ways you couldn’t help her. But it’s not something you ever talk about—not until Heeseung.

He was the first person outside of your friends whom you willingly opened up to. The first person you wanted to open up to. And when you did, his response wasn’t pity or judgment. It was understanding. He didn’t tell you to move on or let it go. He simply listened, offering quiet reassurances. His words didn’t just soothe your present self…they reached that fractured little girl you used to be, the one who just wanted someone to tell her it wasn’t her fault.

And Heeseung… he understood because he’d been there too. Despite living in the aftermath of his brother’s attempted suicide, enduring his father’s suffocating demands and his mother’s overbearing love, he hadn’t become some cold-hearted monster. He had every reason to, but he didn’t.

Sure, he has his flaws. He’s scared of vulnerability, keeps people at arm’s length and hides behind a playboy persona. But you see through it—it’s all armor. He doesn’t want people to see the cracks, to know he has weaknesses they could exploit. And yet with you, he tore all those walls down. He let you see the version of himself that never got to exist when he was younger.

The version he even hides now.

You’d give anything to make sure he’s never hurt again. To ensure he never has to hide or water himself down. To guarantee he can just be himself—happy, unburdened and free. But you can’t.

Because you’re not from his world. You’re not the person he’s supposed to choose. And even if you were, some part of you thinks this love—this all-consuming love—might be too much. Too much for Heeseung.

But not because he doesn’t deserve it. No, Heeseung deserves the kind of love that heals, that lets him breathe, that doesn’t ask for anything he can’t give. But it’s the weight of it, the enormity of what it would mean to truly care for someone like him that gives you pause.

You haven’t forgotten about him forcing his ex-girlfriend to get an abortion, it’s stuck with you since you overheard it. You never brought it up, never asked Heeseung to clarify but it lingers. It colors how you see him, even if you don’t want it to. You don’t believe Heeseung is the kind of man who would demand something so cruel, so selfish but the seed of doubt is there. And it terrifies you.

Because if you’re wrong, if he really did that, what does that say about him? About you for wanting to believe in him so badly?

But even without knowing the truth, you can feel how carefully Heeseung treads around the idea of vulnerability. It’s in the way he deflects, the way he keeps people at a distance, the way his sharp words mask the pain he doesn’t think anyone notices. Loving someone like that would require patience…endless patience and you’re not sure if even that would be enough.

Heeseung doesn’t halfass anything, he said so himself. He doesn’t know how to. If he let himself fall for you, it would be all-encompassing. Consuming. He would give you everything he has, every vulnerable piece of himself he’s spent years hiding away. And that’s what scares you. Not that he wouldn’t love you enough, but that he’d love you too much.

That kind of love comes with expectations, with vulnerabilities Heeseung might not be ready to face. It’s one thing for him to care for someone in theory, to keep his emotions safely compartmentalized, but to truly open himself up? To risk that kind of pain again? You’re not sure he can.

And then there’s the other part, the part you don’t want to admit even to yourself: what if it’s not enough? What if you’re not enough? What if he gives you everything and you still can’t reach him? What if the walls he’s built are so strong that even love can’t break them down?

So you hesitate. Not because you don’t want him, but because you do. Because the thought of not being enough for him is unbearable.

You lean into Chisa’s embrace, letting the tears spill over again silent now but no less heavy. The weight of it all, the longing, the guilt, the hopelessness—feels unbearable.

You don’t think you’ll ever overcome Lee Heeseung.

Chisa helps you out of bed and into the living room, where Yunho pats the spot next to him on the couch. You sit between him and Chisa, feeling their warmth on either side.

Chisa boots up the TV, scrolling through the options. “How far away is the food?” she asks.

“Another twenty minutes,” Yunho replies, checking his phone.

Jaehyun comes into the living room, handing you a bottle of water. You smile softly and thank him. He nods, taking a seat beside Yunho.

Chisa selects That’s So Raven and hits play. As the theme song fills the room, you glance around at your friends, your heart swelling with gratitude.

You don’t deserve them.

But as you sit there, surrounded by their love and support, you realize you can’t keep this from them forever. You’ll tell them about Heeseung—once you’ve removed yourself from the case.

For now, you let yourself enjoy the moment knowing it might be the last bit of peace you have before everything falls apart again.

THAT SAME DAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN

The ball bounces high off the court, cutting cleanly through the crisp afternoon air. Jay slams it back toward Jake and Heeseung’s side with enough force to make Jake grunt, barely managing to return it. It ricochets toward Heeseung—his racket is raised and ready, but his reaction time is too slow. The ball whizzes past him, landing well within the lines.

Jay pumps his fist triumphantly. “Another point for us!”

Jake groans, marching toward Heeseung with his racket pointed accusingly. “Yah! What’s wrong with you? We’re losing!” His aussie accent is stronger than ever, laced with the kind of playful exasperation only a best friend can get away with.

Jay and Sunghoon dissolve into laughter at Jake’s fiery outburst. It’s Sunghoon’s first time joining their tennis matches—Jake had invited him earlier that week, saying, “He fits the vibe, trust me.” And so far, Sunghoon had been keeping up, much to Jay’s delight and Jake’s annoyance.

“Sorry,” Heeseung mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “My head’s… everywhere today.”

“Yeah well get it together!” Jake huffs, gesturing dramatically with his racket. “We’re not losing to these two.”

“Hey!” Jay protests, offended. “These two are crushing you.”

Sunghoon smirks as he twirls his racket. “Not my fault Heeseung’s got his head in the clouds.”

Jake groans, pushing Heeseung toward his side of the court. “Come on man! Get out of your head and play!”

Heeseung exhales heavily, adjusting his stance to serve. He tosses the ball into the air, his focus sharpening as he swings his racket. The ball zips across the net, hitting the opposite side perfectly.

As the game resumes, Heeseung speaks, his voice low but clear: “I made out with my therapist.”

Jay misses his swing completely, the ball bouncing away. Sunghoon whistles in surprise. Jake freezes, staring at Heeseung like he’s grown a second head.

“You what?” Jake finally blurts out.

Heeseung shrugs, keeping his expression neutral even as a knot tightens in his chest. “You heard me.”

Sunghoon fiddles with his racket, clearly intrigued. “Well, this just got interesting.”

Jake recovers first, shaking his head. “Wait, wait. Back up. How did that happen?”

Heeseung exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” Jay says, walking over to grab the ball.

Heeseung hesitates, but when he sees the curiosity—and concern—in their faces, he decides to tell them everything. “Okay, so you know how my parents forced me to go to that matchmaking firm?”

Jay snorts. “Forced is putting it lightly.”

“Exactly,” Heeseung mutters. “They were tired of the tabloids making me look like a… well, you know.”

“A whore,” Jake supplies helpfully.

“Thank you, Jake,” Heeseung says dryly before continuing. “Anyway, I wasn’t taking it seriously at first. But then I met her—____. She’s one of their counselors. The minute I walked into that consultation room and saw her…” He pauses, the memory of that moment flickering in his mind. “She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. She was professional but kind. She didn’t look at me like I was some project to fix. Didn’t associate me with what the news was saying….she just… listened.”

Jay raises an eyebrow. “Listened?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung nods. “Like, really listened. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that before. Not the way she did.”

The game pauses as the four of them linger on Heeseung’s words. Jake twists his racket, visibly intrigued. “So, what happened?”

Heeseung shifts uncomfortably. “We had dinner last week…don’t ask…She didn’t judge me. Didn’t push. We talked about everything—work, family, life… even stuff I don’t usually talk about…like Heejoon.”

Sunghoon frowns. “Who’s Heejoon?”

Heeseung hesitates before explaining, “My brother. He lives in an assisted living facility.” His voice is quieter now, tinged with a sadness he doesn’t often show.

Jake and Jay exchange a look. They’ve known about Heejoon for years but they also know how rarely Heeseung brings him up.

“She didn’t pry,” Heeseung continues. “She just… let me talk. And when I didn’t want to talk, she let me sit in silence. Do you know how rare that is?”

Jake whistles softly. “Sounds like she really gets you.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung says, almost to himself. “She does.”

Jay watches him closely, his expression thoughtful. “It sounds like you like her.”

Heeseung’s grip tightens on the racket, his jaw clenching. The idea strikes a nerve, one he’s not ready to confront. He tried to ignore his feelings when they first started surfacing—during that one-on-one meeting at the hotel bar.

He brushed it off as professional interest, convinced himself it was just admiration for your work. But then you started slipping into his thoughts more often than he liked to admit.

And now, standing with his friends on this tennis court, the reality of it feels inescapable.

He doesn’t want to like you. The idea terrifies him. Liking you would mean opening himself up and he’s learned the hard way what happens when he lets someone in. Vulnerability is a risk he’s not sure he’s willing to take again. It’s safer to keep things on the surface, where emotions can’t dig too deep, where people can’t get close enough to hurt him.

But this… this feels different.

The way you listen to him without judgment, the way you genuinely seem to care—it’s unlike anything he’s experienced in years. You don’t expect him to be the perfect son, the unshakable CEO, or the carefree charmer everyone else sees. You let him be Heeseung—messy, flawed, and real. And somehow, that’s scarier than anything else.

"I don’t like her," Heeseung replies, his tone sharper than he intended. "It’s not like that."

Jay shrugs, setting up another serve. "Hate the message, not the messenger."

The ball flies across the net, but the tension remains. Jake eventually breaks the silence. "Okay, but Jay’s right. This is the most attention we’ve seen you willingly give someone since... well, you know." He stops abruptly, glancing at Jay as the ball falls flat in front of Sunghoon.

Jay glares. “Don’t.”

“What?” Jake says innocently. “I didn’t say her name.”

Sunghoon frowns, looking between them. “Who are we talking about?”

Heeseung exhales heavily, his shoulders sagging. "You can say her name. It’s not the end of the world."

Jake takes it upon himself to explain, filling Sunghoon in as they continue their game. "Heeseung dated this girl, Karina, back in college. She was the first person who got through to him during his...experimental phase." He dodges a stray ball from Heeseung before continuing. "He actually wanted to be monogamous with her."

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, surprised. Jay adds, "Shocking, I know."

Sunghoon serves, the ball whizzing over the net. "So, what happened?"

Heeseung remains silent, his jaw tightening. Jake picks up where he left off. "Heeseung was still... figuring things out and Karina got self-conscious about all the attention their relationship got."

Jay continues, his tone more measured. “It wasn’t just the attention. Karina was…insecure. Heseung was the only person she had ever been with, but she wasn’t his first anything. All those other girls he’d been with? It got in her head. She started wondering if she was good enough.”

Sunghoon nods slowly. “So what, she wanted a break?”

“Yeah,” Jay says. “She said she needed to figure out what she really wanted. Heeseung knew what that meant but he didn’t think she’d actually sleep with someone else.”

Jake takes over, his tone blunt. “She got pregnant by another guy.”

Sunghoon’s jaw drops. “Seriously?”

Jay snickers. “And lover boy over there,” he tilts his head in Heeseungs direction as he prepares to serve,  “didn’t care, he offered to help her raise the baby.”

Jake bursts out laughing, striking the ball back. “The dad that stepped up!”

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

Sunghoon studies him quietly. “So… what happened?”

“She said it wouldn’t be fair to me,” Heeseung says quietly. “That I deserved more than being tied down to someone else’s mistake. So we ended things.”

Jake adds, “But her friends didn’t see it that way. They told everyone Heeseung dumped her because she wouldn’t get an abortion. People thought the baby was his. Karina transferred schools to get away from the mess.”

Sunghoon whistles, shaking his head. “That’s… a lot.”

“Yeah,” Jake says. “We had to pick up the mess she left behind. Heeseung was a wreck.”

Jay nods. "It was a mess. Heeseung didn’t bother correcting the narrative. He figured it was better to let people hate him if it meant they’d leave Karina alone."

Heeseung fixes his gaze on Jay’s new serve but his mind is far away. Jake’s words echo in his head dredging up memories he’s tried to bury.

It all started so innocently. Karina had crashed into him in the hallway outside their dorm rooms, her lab manual and papers went flying across the floor. She was in such a rush, barely looking at him as she muttered a quick “sorry” and darted off after Heeseung helped pick up her notes. He’d laughed it off at the time, figuring she was just another busy college student.

But then he started noticing her more. She was his next-door neighbor after all. He saw her leaving for early classes, hair in a messy ponytail, coffee cup in hand. He caught glimpses of her in the common areas, always with her head buried in a textbook or her laptop.

The first real conversation they had was late one night when he came back from a party. She was in the dorm lounge, slumped over her laptop, tears streaming down her face. He didn’t even know why he’d stopped—normally, he would’ve just kept walking. But something about the way she looked so defeated and alone made him pause.

He found out she was locked out of her room, freezing, starving, and overwhelmed by a cell bio lab report she had no idea how to write. Heeseung hadn’t planned to stay. He told himself he was just being nice when he ordered Mexican food for them and offered up his room for her to work in. But as the hours passed, as he stayed up helping her find sources and cracking jokes to make her laugh, something shifted.

That night, he realized he wanted to see her again. And he did—again and again. Their friendship grew and somewhere along the way he fell for her. Hard.

He didn’t even notice at first. It wasn’t one big moment, but a series of small ones: the way she’d scrunch her nose when she was concentrating, how her laughter lit up a room, the way she listened when he talked, like he was the most interesting person in the world. Heeseung started skipping parties, hanging out with her instead. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to impress anyone or put on a front. He could just be himself.

When they started dating, it felt like a dream. But dreams don’t last.

Karina wasn’t like him—she wasn’t used to the attention, the whispers, the gossip. His past flings made it worse, their snarky comments and passive-aggressive stares feeding her insecurities. He tried to reassure her, to show her she was the only one who mattered, but it wasn’t enough.

When she asked for a break Heeseung gave her space even though it tore him apart. He told himself she’d come back, that they’d work things out. Heeseung still remembers the night she told him. She’d shown up at his door, tears in her eyes, her hands shaking. He thought she was there to reconcile, to tell him she was ready to try again. Instead, she told him about the baby.

He could’ve walked away. A part of him wanted to. But the love he felt for her, the kind that makes you want to stay even when it hurts—kept him rooted in place.

Heeseung argued and pleaded but she wouldn’t budge. She told him she loved him too much to let him sacrifice his future for her mistakes.

When the rumors started—that the baby was his and he’d dumped her because she wouldn’t get an abortion—Heeseung didn’t correct them. What was the point?

She transferred schools soon after, and that was the end of it. The end of them.

Heeseung exhales sharply, his chest stinging at the memory. He’s not in love with Karina anymore, he knows that. But what they had, how it ended, left scars he’s still dealing with.

She was his first love, the first person he let himself be vulnerable with and she left.

Now, the idea of letting someone in like that again terrifies him. What if they leave too? What if he’s not enough?

Sunghoon glances at Heeseung, who is unusually quiet. The tabloids had painted a picture of him as a careless playboy, but this version of Heeseung—reserved, contemplative—didn’t fit that image. As Heeseung serves again, Sunghoon’s perspective shifts. Heeseung isn’t aloof; he’s guarded, carrying the weight of past scars and unspoken emotions.

“Point is,” Jay finally says, breaking the silence, “you deserve to be happy, Heeseung. And it sounds like this girl—____, makes you happy. Maybe it’s worth giving it a shot.”

Heeseung’s grip on his racket tightens, his gaze distant. “I know. But that’s what scares me.”

Jay frowns. “Why?”

Heeseung hesitates, then sighs. “Because people like her don’t exist in my world. Genuine, kind… It’s easier to push her away than risk losing her.”

The silence stretches between them as the weight of his words settles.

Jake tilts his head, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “What’s worse? Losing her because you didn’t try, or losing her after you gave it your all?”

Jay nods, his expression softening. “Whatever makes you happy, man. You’ve spent years doing what everyone else wants. Maybe it’s time to focus on what you want. You deserve to be happy.”

Heeseung looks at Jay, his jaw clenching as he processes his friend’s words. He knows they’re right. They always are. But admitting what he wants—admitting that he wants you—is the hardest part.

Sunghoon, who has been quietly observing, finally speaks. “You should go for it, man. You’re right, there aren’t a lot of genuine people in our world but it sounds like you’ve found someone who cares about you...why pass that up?”

Jake grins, the humor creeping back into his tone. “Plus, she’s a therapist. I’m sure she can help you sort through those deep-seated mommy and daddy issues.”

Heeseung snorts, shaking his head. “Fuck off.”

As they pack up their equipment, Heeseung lingers, his mind replaying the events of the past week. The kiss, the way you’d looked at him, the vulnerability in your eyes—it had all felt so real. But the morning after, you were gone. No explanation, no goodbye. Just... gone.

He remembers waking up, hoping to talk things out, to figure out what the kiss meant for both of you. He’d wanted to kiss you again, to tell you that he didn’t regret it. But your absence had said it all. You regretted it. You didn’t want him.

That’s why he hadn’t reached out. He’d convinced himself that you needed space, that pushing you would only make things worse. But now, after hearing his friends, he’s starting to question that logic. Maybe he’s been using your disappearance as an excuse to protect himself. Maybe it’s time to take a risk.

As the sun sets, Heeseung sits in his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The echoes of Jay’s words ring in his ears: "You deserve to be happy."

For the first time in days, he pulls out his phone, his fingers hovering over your contact. His heart pounds as he considers what to say, what to do. He doesn’t call—not yet—but the decision is made. He’s going to reach out. He’s going to try.

Because Jay is right: he deserves to be happy, and maybe you’re the person who can help him find that happiness.

MONDAY FEBRUARY 24TH, 2025

You’re standing in front of the glass doors to your office building clutching your bag with both hands as if it might slip away and drag you with it. The week you took off feels like a fever dream now—blurry and surreal but undeniably real in the toll it’s taken on your body and mind. You’ve barely slept, barely eaten, and every fiber of your being wants to turn around and leave. But you can’t.

You exhale shakily, willing your feet to move. The lobby is bustling as usual—faces you don’t recognize weaving in and out, some rushing to catch elevators, others lingering by the café for their first caffeine hit of the day.

For a moment, you imagine Jaehyun here, waiting in the corner like he offered. He had insisted on accompanying you today, his day off but you turned him down. “I’ll be fine,” you’d said, more to convince yourself than him. The truth is, you don’t feel fine. Not even close.

Your resolve wavers as you step into the elevator, but you clutch your bag tighter and remind yourself of your plan. Drop off your things, go straight to Miss Min and request to be removed from the case. That’s it. That’s all you have to do. You don’t have any sessions today so you’re free to do paperwork in the comfort of your office alone.

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal the familiar hallway. Your heart pounds harder with each step, dread clawing at your chest.

The firm feels unfamiliar after just a week away. You round the corner to your office but stop dead in your tracks.

Sakura is standing there, waiting for you. The sight of her sends your heart plummeting into your stomach.

Her outfit is immaculate as always, a Dior top tucked into high-waisted jeans, a fluffy tote bag slung over one shoulder. She looks stunning, almost as if she just stepped out of a magazine spread.

What is she doing here?

You don’t have a scheduled meeting with her today and the possibilities racing through your mind only make the anxiety worse. Did Heeseung tell her about the kiss? Is she here to confront you?

You swallow hard and force a polite smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “Sakura, hi. What brings you here?”

Her smile is warm and genuine, completely disarming. “I finally found an opening in my schedule,” she says. “I know it’s last minute and I’m sorry but I really wanted to have that one-on-one time with you.”

Your heart sinks further.

Oh.

She’s not here to accuse you of anything. She’s here because she thinks you’re someone she can trust.

Staring into her kind eyes feels unbearable knowing what you’ve done.

“Oh, um…” You hesitate, glancing at the door to your office. “Actually, I don’t… I can’t today. I’m sorry. I don’t have time.”

You try to sidestep her, desperate to escape into the relative safety of your office but Sakura gently places a hand on your arm, stopping you.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, her tone almost pleading. “I really don’t mean to impose, but this is my only free day off. Please?”

There’s something so sincere in her voice, something that twists the knife of guilt even deeper. You have no right to deny her this. It’s quite literally the least you could do.

You nod reluctantly, forcing a small smile. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”

Sakura’s face lights up as she lifts her tote bag slightly. “Crocheting! I brought some of my materials.”

You smile softly remembering her mentioning it was a hobby of hers. “Crocheting?”

“Yeah!” she says, her excitement palpable. “I thought it might be a fun way for us to spend time together.”

“Sure,” you say quietly, nodding toward your office. “We can work in here. We’ll have it to ourselves.”

You lead her inside, offering her the seat across from your desk. She immediately starts unpacking her supplies—rolls of yarn in soft pastels, a variety of hooks, and a pattern book.

“Have you ever crocheted before?” she asks, glancing up at you with a smile.

You shake your head. “No, never.”

Sakura grins. “Perfect. I’ll teach you the basics.”

She’s patient as she explains each step, showing you how to hold the hook and yarn, how to make a simple chain. Her enthusiasm is infectious and for a brief moment you almost forget the fact that you kissed her fiancée.

When she hands you a pattern she’s already started—a small flower, you thank her and begin carefully following her instructions. Meanwhile, she starts on a new project.

“What are you making?” you ask after a while, glancing at the soft gray yarn in her hands.

“A scarf,” she says, her voice light. “It’s getting colder, and I want Heeseung to stay warm.”

Your hands falter, the hook slipping from your fingers. You force yourself to recover quickly, pretending to focus on the flower in your lap.

“Do you…” You hesitate, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you have feelings for him?”

Sakura blushes, her fingers pausing for a moment before resuming their work. “I know it probably sounds stupid because, well, why would the ‘perfect princess’ want the messed-up playboy?”

She sighs, her voice soft and contemplative. “I don’t know. I can’t help but like him.”

You nod slowly, understanding all too well how easy it is to fall for Heeseung, especially when he lets his guard down.

“You don’t have to rationalize why you like him,” you say quietly.

Sakura smiles faintly, her gaze focused on her work. “I see myself in him, you know? Spending your whole life in the spotlight…it forces you to become someone else. I see that with Heeseung. He hides so much of himself but I know there’s more to him than what he lets people see.”

You nod again, unsure of what to say. The conversation feels like walking a tightrope.

Sakura continues, her voice softer now. “I think he’s very guarded. He keeps me at a distance but I believe if we keep working with you, he’ll learn to open up. He can be a good husband, I know he can.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You have no doubt either that Heeseung would make an amazing husband. You swallow the lump in your throat and force a small smile. “You’re…good at seeing the best in people.”

She looks up at you, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” you say quickly looking back at the flower. “But…do you think you like him for who he is now, or for who you think he could be?”

Sakura tilts her head, considering your question. “Can’t it be both? Can’t I like him and also want to help him become the best version of himself?”

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the yarn in your lap. “Maybe. But sometimes, when we try to ‘fix’ someone, we end up falling for the version of them we’ve created in our heads, not the person they really are.”

You don’t know why you’re saying this—or maybe you do. Maybe it’s because you’ve seen the real Heeseung. There’s no need for you to imagine who he is or who he could become because you know. You know his flaws, his frustrations, the way his voice sharpens when he’s annoyed, and how his smile softens when he talks about the things that matter to him. And despite all of it—no, because of all of it….you still like him.

Heeseung doesn’t need fixing. He deserves to be loved unconditionally, not molded into someone else’s ideal.

You glance at Sakura. She doesn’t seem like the type to love with limits. She’s earnest, kind, and patient in a way you’ve never been. If Heeseung allowed himself to get to know her, you could see them being happy together. She would lay her life down to ensure his happiness.

But you?

You’d let the world burn if it meant keeping him safe. You’d tear the universe apart just to put him back together.

It’s an unbearable truth, one you wish you could erase from yourself because no matter how much you care for him, you know that it’s unfair to Sakura.

Sakura nods slowly, her gaze distant. “I guess that’s something I’ll have to figure out. But…I care about him. And I want to see him happy, whether that’s with me or not.”

“Do you mean it?” you ask hesitantly.

Sakura looks up, confused. “Mean what?”

“When you say you wouldn’t mind if Heeseung chose someone else,” you clarify. “Do you really mean that?”

Her fingers pause mid-stitch, and she looks thoughtful. “It would hurt,” she admits. “I’ve come to care about him but I think we both deserve to be with someone who loves us completely. Don’t you?”

You nod slowly.

“I believe he could be that person for me,” Sakura continues, her voice soft. “But if he isn’t, I won’t force it. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to fit into roles that weren’t meant for me. I deserve someone who loves me for who I am and so does he.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For trusting me with this.” You respond.

Sakura smiles warmly. “You’re easy to talk to. I can see why Heeseung respects you so much.”

You lower your gaze, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m just doing my job.”

The conversation drifts back to lighter topics as you continue crocheting, but the weight of your guilt never leaves. When the hour is up, you see Sakura out and close the door behind her and lean against it, exhaling shakily. You need to remove yourself.

Crossing the room, you settle into your chair and reach for the files neatly stacked on your desk. Your fingers tremble as you sift through the documents; session notes, progress reports, everything you’ve meticulously prepared over the past month for Heeseung and Sakura.

This was supposed to be just another assignment, your first major case as part of the matchmaking firm’s elite team. You were supposed to help them establish trust, lay the groundwork for a successful marriage and ensure the media viewed them as the perfect couple. But somewhere along the way, it became personal.

You can’t do this anymore. Not when you’ve crossed lines you swore you wouldn’t. Not when you’ve let yourself feel things you shouldn’t.

Gathering the files into a tidy stack, you take a deep breath and stand. You’ll bring these to Miss Min and request to be removed from the case. It’s the only way to salvage what’s left of your integrity and maybe even your sanity.But before you can take a step, there’s a knock at your door.

“Come in.”

The door opens to reveal Dani with a bright smile plastered across her face. She steps inside, holding a clipboard in one hand and a tablet in the other.

“Hey, just the person I was looking for!” she says cheerfully.

You blink, setting the files back down on your desk. “What’s up?”

“Miss Min wanted me to stop by and let you know something,” Dani says, her tone chipper. “She saw Sakura in your office earlier and said you’ve been doing a great job with this case. And since there hasn’t been any bad press with Heeseung lately, she thinks tomorrow’s the perfect day to announce their engagement!”

The words hit you like a freight train. Tomorrow.

You knew this day was coming—it’s what you’ve been working toward. But now that it’s here, the reality of it is suffocating. You force yourself to nod. “That’s…great news.”

Dani’s smile widens. “I know, right? This was your first major case and you killed it! Miss Min is definitely going to put you in charge of more high-profile clients after this.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, the word feeling hollow. “I’m happy.”

Dani doesn’t seem to notice the strain in your voice. She beams at you one last time before turning to leave but then she pauses and looks back over her shoulder.

“Oh, and Miss Min said you’ve earned a day off tomorrow. Just be on standby in case Heeseung or Sakura need anything.”

You nod again, managing a faint smile. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“No problem! Enjoy your night!” Dani chirps before disappearing out the door.

The moment she’s gone, you sink back into your chair, the files still sitting in front of you. Tomorrow. It feels like a death sentence.

You’re supposed to be proud of yourself, supposed to feel accomplished for guiding Heeseung and Sakura to this point. But all you feel is empty.

Your gaze drifts to your phone on the desk and as if on cue, the screen lights up with a text notification.

9:12 am | heeseung: hey, can we talk?9:14 am | heeseung: please come over tonight.

Your heart pounds as you stare at the messages. You know what you should do. You should say no, maintain the little professional boundaries left and keep your distance. You should focus on preparing yourself for tomorrow, for the inevitable. But you can’t.

You’ve always been selfish when it comes to Heeseung, unable to deny him anything. So you type out a reply before you can think better of it.

9:22 am | you: i’ll stop by after work.

Setting the phone down, you try to convince yourself that this will be the last time. You’ll go over there, tell him the kiss was a mistake and tell him about the engagement announcement. You’ll encourage him to give Sakura a real chance.

Yeah, you’ll do the right thing.

You spend the rest of the afternoon finishing up paperwork, your mind elsewhere the entire time. By the time the clock hits 7 p.m, you’ve packed up your things and are preparing to leave when your phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call.

It’s Yunho.

You sigh softly before answering, his smiling face filling the screen.

“Yo,” he greets. “You up for game night at mine? Chisa’s already on her way.”

You hesitate, “I can’t tonight. My first day back was a bit overwhelming. I just need some sleep.”

Yunho frowns, clearly not convinced. “You sure? I don’t want you falling back into a slump.”

“I’m fine. I promise. Just tired. I’ll stop by tomorrow—I’m off, so I’ll spend the whole day with you.”

He studies you for a moment before nodding reluctantly. “Alright. But you better not flake on me.”

“I won’t,” you say softly. “Thanks, Yunho.”

“Anytime,” he says before ending the call.

You exhale slowly, setting your phone aside. You gather your things and head to your car. The drive to Heeseung’s home feels excruciatingly long, your thoughts racing the entire way. By the time you pull up to his home your nerves are frayed but you force yourself to get out of the car and head inside.

This is it. One last time.

You make your way up the familiar stone steps to Heeseung’s front door. Your hand hovers for a moment before you knock, three soft taps against the wood.

A beat passes. Then another. Then another. For a moment, you wonder if he changed his mind about wanting to see you, but then you hear the faint shuffle of footsteps on the other side. The door opens, revealing Heeseung. His expression is unreadable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice a little raspy.

“Hey,” you reply.

He steps aside to let you in and you hesitantly cross the threshold, the warmth of his home doing little to soothe the chill in your bones. The atmosphere is tense and awkward in a way that neither of you seems to know how to address.

The last time it felt like this was the first time you met him, when you were still trying to figure him out and he was sizing you up in return. That day, you were both strangers, carefully tiptoeing around each other. And now…now, things couldn’t be more complicated.

Heeseung leads you into the living room and gestures for you to sit and you do, choosing the far end of the couch. The space you put between you feels significant, like a boundary you’re desperately trying to maintain.

Heeseung watches you for a moment before sitting down as well, leaning back slightly but keeping his eyes fixed on you. You clutch the strap of your bag, running your fingers along the leather in an attempt to calm yourself. The silence is thick, and you don’t know how to start.

You break first. “Miss Min is announcing the engagement tomorrow.”

The words hang in the air. You glance at him but his expression doesn’t betray much. Heeseung’s gaze shifts away for a moment then back to you. His jaw tightens and he exhales deeply.

“I’m calling it off,” he says suddenly, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart stops. You stare at him, certain you misheard. “W-what?”

“I’m calling it off,” he repeats, turning to face you fully. His eyes are locked onto yours, and the intensity in them makes it impossible to look away. “I’m done prioritizing everyone else’s happiness over my own. I can’t keep pretending to be okay with this.”

You blink at him stunned. Your mind races, trying to make sense of his words. “Heeseung…you can’t just—”

“I don’t want Sakura,” he interrupts. He leans forward slightly, closing some of the distance between you. “I want you.”

The confession feels like a punch to the gut. You shake your head, your hands gripping the strap of your bag even tighter. “No. Heeseung, you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he says without hesitation. “I’ve tried to deny it, to push it down but I can’t anymore. I can’t lie to myself—or to you.”

“Heeseung—”

“I know this isn’t how things were supposed to happen. I know the way this started was unconventional but none of that changes the way I feel about you.”

You’re frozen, unable to respond.

“I like you. I’ve spent the past month trying to ignore it, trying to convince myself that it was just…a passing thing. But it’s not. I can’t stop thinking about you. About the way you challenge me, the way you see through all the bullshit, the way you care.” He says, his voice trembling just slightly. 

His words are a direct hit to your heart. You swallow hard, your throat tight as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I want you too,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “But we can’t.”

“Why not? Who says we can’t?” He asks, his tone almost desperate now. He scoots closer to you on the couch, his knees brushing against yours.

You shake your head, trying to find the right words. “Because…because it’s messy and wrong, Heeseung. You’re engaged to someone else. Someone kind and sweet who doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

Heeseung reaches out, his hands cupping your face gently forcing you to look at him. His touch is warm. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

“Heeseung…” you choke out.

“I don’t care how messy it is. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. All I care about is you and I need to know if you feel the same.”

You hesitate, your heart conflicting with your mind. Every rational part of you is screaming that this is a mistake, that you’re walking into dangerous territory. But your heart…your heart is begging you to take the leap.

“I…” Your voice falters, and you look into his eyes, the sincerity in them making it impossible to lie. “I do. I feel the same.”

His lips part slightly, relief washing over his face. “Then that’s all that matters.”

You shake your head again, tears slipping down your cheeks. “But it’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he insists, his hands still cradling your face. “It is if you want it to be. Just say yes.”

“Heeseung…”

“Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking slightly. “Just say yes.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to explode. You know you shouldn’t, you know this is dangerous, but you can’t bring yourself to deny him. You’ve never been able to deny him and you don’t think you could now, not when he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

“Okay,” you whisper, barely able to get the word out. “Yes.”

Heeseung exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this entire time. And then before you can second-guess yourself, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepens, his hands sliding to the back of your neck to pull you closer.

You melt into him, every doubt, every fear fading away as his warmth envelops you. In this moment, nothing else matters. Just him. Just this.

You part your lips slightly, letting him deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours and a quiet whimper escapes your throat, the sound swallowed by his kiss. Heeseung’s grip tightens, one hand sliding down to your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer.

You barely register the moment when he tugs you into his lap, your knees straddling him as his hands settle on your hips. You instinctively brace your hands on his shoulders. His warmth radiates through the fabric of his shirt, his broad chest firm beneath your palms. You can feel his heart pounding just as wildly as your own.

It feels right; this moment, his touch, the way he holds you. For a fleeting second, you remember all the things you need to address. All the unanswered questions about how this will work, what it will mean for both of you. But right now, none of that seems important. Right now, you focus on the way his lips move against yours, the way his hands hold you as if he never wants to let go.

Your breath hitches when you feel him harden beneath you, the unmistakable evidence of his desire making heat pool low in your belly. The realization sends a flush of warmth spreading across your cheeks, but Heeseung doesn’t give you a moment to linger on it. His grip on your hips tightens slightly as he kisses you deeper.

Without breaking the kiss, he stands, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. A gasp escapes you, muffled against his mouth as your arms wrap instinctively around his neck. He carries you through the house, navigating the short distance to his bedroom with ease.

When he sets you down on the bed his movements are slow and deliberate. His lips leave yours for a brief moment, and you’re left catching your breath as he pulls back just enough to look at you. The way he gazes down at you makes your chest tighten and pussy clench. There’s so much emotion in his eyes, all mixed together in a way that makes you feel both shy and hot under his gaze.

You look away for a moment, heat rising to your cheeks but Heeseung gently tilts your chin back to face him. “Do you want this?” he asks. His hands fall down to your hips, pushing up your blouse to feel the softness of your stomach beneath his palms.

You look at him through your lashes and stare at his face for a minute trying to decipher what he’s thinking. He’s always been a person who wears their emotions on their face, and now, as you look up into his eyes searching for any hesitation— you find none. You find nothing but pure want and admiration.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

The corners of his lips lift in a small relieved smile and then he’s leaning down again, capturing your mouth in another kiss.

Heeseung pulls back just slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as his eyes search yours. His fingers trail lightly along the hem of your blouse and he murmurs, “Raise your arms for me.” You do as he asks, lifting your arms above your head and Heeseung takes his time peeling your shirt off, his knuckles brushing your skin as he tugs it free. The fabric falls to the floor and he pauses for a moment to take you in. His gaze sweeps over you with such hunger that you lose your breath.

Heeseung pulls his own shirt off in one smooth motion and you can’t help but stare. His chest rises and falls steadily, his toned muscles illuminated in the dim light of the room. He catches your gaze and offers you a small reassuring smile as he leans closer again.

You bite your bottom lip suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze but Heeseung seems to notice. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, his voice gentle, soothing. “I’ll be gentle.”

You nod slightly, your lips parting as he leans down to press another kiss to your lips. His hands trail down to the clasp of your bra and he pauses for just a moment, giving you time to stop him if you want to. When you don’t, he deftly unhooks it and slides it off your shoulders.

Your breath hitches as the cool air grazes your skin and Heeseung takes a moment to admire you, his eyes softening as if committing every inch of you to memory. His tenderness feels almost overwhelming, and your heart beats wildly as he gently lays you back down on the bed.

He leans in again, placing a soft peck on your lips before his mouth begins a slow descent. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, lingering for a moment before continuing down the center of your chest.

When his lips reach your navel he pauses, his warm breath fanning over your skin. “Can I taste you baby?”

You shyly nod at the question and use of pet name not used to it. Heeseung shakes his head though, “no baby. I need to hear you say yes. C’mon, let me hear that beautiful voice.”

You lift your hips off his bed not able to voice your wants. He smirks and kisses your naval again. “C’mon baby, tell me what you want.”

You huff frustrated. “Heeseung please…I need you.”

“There we go.”

He helps you unbutton your slacks and slides them down your legs and tosses them onto the growing pile on the floor. Heeseung grips onto the band of your panties and slides them down. Once you’re completely naked, he dips his fingers into your sticky dripping pussy. 

He hisses at the feeling of your warm cunt wrapped around his fingers “Mmm, you’re so wet, baby,” he says, a pathetic whimper escapes you in response. 

Heesueng dives his head in between your thighs and kisses your clit just once before pulling his head back again. There’s a few seconds of silence, of anticipating what he’s going to do next.

You gasp as you watch him lock eyes with you before spitting directly onto your clit. You bite your lip to keep in the moan that wants to escape at the feeling of his spit dripping from your clit down your pussy, making a mess of you and his sheets beneath you.

Heeseung leans back down and latches onto your clit, sucking harshly.  Pleasure shoots through your veins and your stomach clenches. Heeseung groans, the vibration making you shake underneath him. His eyes flutter closed, savoring the feeling of your legs thrown over his shoulders and the taste of you.

His tongue laps up your juices, he’s slurping loudly enjoying every drop of your sweet arousal on his tongue. He licks fast up and down your pussy, parting your folds with the tip of his hot tongue. Your legs are shaking, your right hand tangles in his hair to make sure he stays down. "H-heeseung," you hiccup, starting to grind your hips for added pleasure. 

Heeseung moans, flicking his tongue on your clit quickly. You feel his fingers at your entrance again, playing with your slick, stroking up and down your folds. Your breath quickens more, you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Fuck,” you whimper, wincing at the slight burn as he inserts two fingers into you slowly. You haven’t had anything inside of you for so long, you welcome the pain that comes with it.

“Gonna stretch you out nice and good,” Heeseung growls against your sopping cunt. “Make sure you’re ready to take my fat cock, isn’t that right baby?” 

You nod dumbly at his words, grinding your hips onto his fingers as the tightening feeling in your lower stomach keeps building.

"Oh, f-fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum." You’re starting to babble, moans becoming increasingly higher in pitch. You try pushing yourself higher up on the bed trying to escape his grasp, it’s all too much. Your thighs start shaking and Heeseung takes it upon himself to grip a little tighter to keep you in place.

He practically buries his face in your pussy, stimulating you with his tongue and the tip of his nose whilst still fucking you with his fingers. He grunts, sucking on your pussy whilst flicking his tongue over your swollen clit, his fingers curling deep inside of you. 

“Cum for me doll,” Heeseung begs, desperate to pull an orgasm from you just to lick it all up. “Be a good girl and cum on my face.”

"Oh fuck," you choke out, your hips bucking. 

Your legs close up on him, nearly crushing his head. Your fingers pull on his hair but Heeseung  keeps on licking and sucking the whole time. With the pressure on your clit and the fullness of his fingers scissoring deep in your core you can’t help it, the budding tightness unraveling as you come onto his tongue. Your body shakes lightly, trembling in his grip as you let out loud needy moans.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” He confesses as he watches you ride out your orgasm.

Heeseung pulls back and exhales shakily, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip as he leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, his voice tender.

You nod still, catching your breath, watching as he pushes himself up from the bed. He moves to his bathroom and disappears behind the partially open door. You hear the faint rustle of a cabinet being opened, and your heart races when you catch sight of him returning with a small box in his hand.

Heeseung sets the box down on the nightstand and pulls out a single foil packet. His movements are deliberate but unhurried, as if giving you all the time in the world to change your mind.

When he settles back beside you he cups your face with one hand and kisses you softly, his lips conveying reassurance and care. “We don’t have to go any further,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “We can stop here if you want.”

His sincerity makes your heart flutter and for a moment all you can do is stare into his eyes. But then you lean in, your lips brushing his as you whisper, “I don’t want to stop.”

You don’t let the kiss last long, pulling away to look Heeseung in his eyes as you slowly sink to your knees in front of him. He gulps as he watches you with hooded eyes, lifting his hips so you can remove his sweats and boxers. The moment his cock springs out, your jaw nearly drops to the floor. Not only is he long, but he’s also thick and veiny. Your mouth waters at the sight of it, he twitches in the air, red and angry waiting for attention.

You flick your eyes up to meet Heeseung’s impatient gaze before wrapping your dominant hand around the base and slowly tugging. Heeseung groans at the feeling and spreads his legs a bit more to give you better access. You kiss the tip of his erect cock, slowly opening your mouth to suck at the tip of his dick. You wrap your lips around his head, slowly sucking the tip into your mouth as precum drips out and coats your tongue.

Heeseung lets out a breathy moan, thrusting into your mouth slightly as he urges you to take him deeper into your mouth. You willingly swallow more of him, tongue swirling around his head, groaning at the taste of his precum.

You begin bobbing your head, taking more and more of his hard length into your mouth. Heeseung grips on to your hair and slides you further down his length. “That’s it, princess. Take this big dick down your throat.” He begins thrusting his hips gradually, forcing more and more of his cock into your mouth until you take in his whole shaft, your face pressed against his lower abdomen.

Heeseung thrusts harder into your mouth, losing himself in the feel of your lips wrapped tightly around him, letting out a small groan whenever you flick your tongue against his slit, licking the precum.

“F-fuck just like that.” You’re slowly coating his cock in your saliva, the mixture of your spit and his precum turning him into a sticky mess.

Wet sounds of gagging resound through the air, mingling with the sounds of Heeseung thrusting into your mouth. You feel his cock twitch inside you before he says. “Gonna swallow all my cum like a good girl? Hm?”

You hum around him, eager to bring him over the edge. “Oh, oh fuck, I’m cumming.” Heeseung groans, gritting his teeth. He thrusts his hip one last time before cumming. You feel his cum shoot down the back of your throat and you make sure to swallow the warm liquid, not wasting a single drop.

“Fuck. You’re amazing” Heeseung mutters, pulling you off of his dick before kissing you, tasting himself. You kiss him back fervently, your fingers burying into his red locks.

“I need you Hee,” You whimper.

Heeseung nods and picks you up to lay you flat on your back. “Anything for you princess.” He leans over to grab the condom from earlier and opens the foil. He tosses the wrapping and slowly slides the condom down his shaft. Once he’s sure it’s secure he hovers over your body just taking you in.

You blush but whine, spreading your legs a bit more. “Heeseung….please.”

He smirks at the desperation in your voice before leaning down to close his lips over your right nipple. You whimper at the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, sucking it into his mouth before pulling back and blowing cold air on it.

You lay still, anticipating his next move. His eyes flick down. “Your pussy looks so fucking good.” Heeseung says, letting the pink tip of his dick rub against your wet folds. You both moan at the sensation.

With one more rub of his head, he lines himself against your entrance and slowly pushes his hips forward. You think you could come instantly.

Heeseung shifts above you, moving so his hands cage you between both his arms. You moan as he slowly enters you, his girth stretching your pussy out. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and places a kiss at the juncture of your jaw and neck at the feeling of your walls clamping around him. Finally, when he’s completely in your pussy, his head grazing cervix, he stills and shifts his head to meet your eyes. You look up at him through hazy, half lidded eyes, completely lost in the way he opens you up. Heeseung stills for a couple moments, allowing you to get used to his size before pulling out and thrusting in once again, this time in one smooth glide. You let out a choked-out moan, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

The intimacy is overwhelming, a closeness that feels as though it’s unraveling you and putting you back together all at once. He holds you like you’re something precious, something fragile, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he isn’t careful.

His gaze never leaves yours. The way his eyes search your face, looking for any sign of discomfort fills you with a warmth you’ve never known. There’s no urgency in him, no impatience, just a steady gentle rhythm.

“Right t-there” You mewl, slowly losing yourself in all the pleasure. Heeseung tucks his head under yours and grins against your skin, biting your collarbone gently before sucking a hickey on your skin. He trails kisses down to the valley of your breasts, pressing a kiss against your sternum before taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling gingerly. “P-please Hee, can’t…gonna cum” You babble, unable to form a coherent sentence.

You faintly acknowledge Heeseung grinning against your chest, his right hand slowly inches towards your own before entwining it with your own. Holding your hand over his sheets. You can feel him pour out all his emotions into each and every action as he thrusts into you over and over again.

“You’re so beautiful.” Heeseung whispers.

All of a sudden you cum without warning, the pressure too much. Heeseung pushes your hips down into the bed, pounding relentlessly into you, chasing his own high. He hammers into you one last time before letting out a loud groan as he empties himself into the condom, spurt after spurt of his cum pouring into you.

The world feels quiet now, the only sound in the room your mingled breaths as you both come down from the high. Heeseung’s forehead rests against yours, his hand still clasping yours tightly as if letting go would somehow make the moment less real. His thumb strokes over your knuckles.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice hoarse and laced with concern.

You nod, barely able to gather the words to respond. “I’m okay,” you whisper.

A small, relieved smile touches his lips before he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Heeseung shifts slightly, careful not to crush you as he pulls out. You wince at the sensitivity and he quickly apologizes.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, reluctantly letting go of your hand. He slips out of bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his movement.

You watch as he crosses the room, disposing of the condom in the bathroom and cleaning himself off before grabbing a warm damp cloth. When he returns, he kneels beside the bed, his touch impossibly gentle as he cleans you up murmuring soft reassurances. “You did so well,” he says quietly, his voice full of affection. “Thank you… for trusting me with you.”

Your cheeks warm, but you manage a soft smile and nod.

Heeseung’s gaze softens even further, and he presses a kiss to your knee before standing to place the cloth aside. He joins you back in bed, pulling the sheets up over your bodies before tugging you into his arms. You rest your head on his chest, your legs tangling with his as his hand strokes your back in soothing circles.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your back. “I hope you know that.”

You huff a small laugh, finally finding your voice. “You don’t have to flatter me, you already got what you wanted.”

Heeseung chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Maybe I just like telling you how I feel.” He tilts his head to look at you, his expression soft and unguarded. “Can I?”

You glance up at him, confused. “Can you what?”

“Tell you more about me…The messy parts. The things I don’t usually share.”

Your breath catches slightly at the vulnerability in his voice but you nod. “I’d like that.”

His grip on you tightens just a little, as if you're his own personal stress ball. He doesn’t start talking right away, his thumb brushing along your shoulder as if he’s organizing his thoughts. You don’t rush him content to lie there in his embrace waiting for him to open up.

Finally, he speaks. “When I was fifteen, my brother Heejoon was seventeen,” he begins, his voice quiet but steady. “He was… everything you’d expect from an eldest son in our family—smart, responsible, always trying to do the right thing. But he struggled a lot too. Heejoon always had anxiety. It wasn’t obvious at first; he’d just get nervous about things other people didn’t think twice about. But as we got older… it got worse.”

You shift slightly in his arms looking up at him with concern. Heeseung’s gaze is fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tight as he continues.

“Our dad…he’s a no-nonsense kind of man. Everything is about discipline, results, and maintaining the family’s reputation. That summer, he was preparing Heejoon to start interning at the company. Heejoon was terrified but he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to disappoint our dad. So he just… pushed himself harder. He started focusing on the business, trying to prepare, but his grades started slipping. He was so afraid of letting Dad down that he…he cheated on a final exam.” 

Heeseung clears his throat. “He got caught and Dad had to bribe the teacher to keep it off his record and let him retake the exam. He was livid, but he didn’t hit him or anything. He’s never laid a hand on us. But his words…” Heeseung’s voice falters, and he looks away.

Your heart aches for him, for Heejoon. You reach up, cupping his cheek and gently guiding his gaze back to you. “What happened?” you whisper.

Heeseung closes his eyes for a moment, like he’s reliving the memory. “Heejoon couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure to be perfect, to be something he wasn’t…that night, after Dad tore into him, he tried to kill himself.”

Your heart drops at the confirmation of what you knew all along.

“I was the one who found him,” Heeseung continues, his voice barely audible now. “We got him to the hospital in time, but… he was never the same after that. His will to live was just… gone.”

You sit up slightly, your eyes searching his face. “Heeseung…”

He meets your gaze, his own eyes glassy but resolute. “Heejoon’s alive. But he’s not… He’s not the same person he used to be.”

You gently take his hand in both of yours, your fingers wrapping around his as if to anchor him. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you say softly, your voice steady but full of empathy. “And I’m so glad he’s still here. Heeseung… You’ve been through so much and you’re still here too. You’re still fighting. That means something.”

Heeseung shakes his head slowly, his grip on your body tightening. “I blamed myself for years,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I saw how much he was struggling and I didn’t do anything. I was his little brother—I was supposed to have his back and I didn’t. I just stood there, thinking he’d be fine because he was Heejoon. He was always the strong one.”

His voice cracks and you reach up brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw, grounding him. He leans into your touch almost unconsciously, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“When I see him now…” He pauses, exhaling shakily. “I can’t stop thinking about how different his life could’ve been if I’d just said something. If I’d told someone how scared he was, how much pressure he was under. Maybe… maybe he wouldn’t have felt like he had no other choice.” His gaze drops to yours, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I failed him.”

Your chest tightens at the rawness in his voice, the weight he’s been carrying alone for so long. “Heeseung,” you say softly, “you didn’t fail him. You were a kid too, trying to survive in the same house under the same pressure. You did the best you could with what you knew then. That matters.”

His lips twitch faintly, but the guilt in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Some days, it doesn’t feel like enough,” he admits quietly.

“It is,” you insist, leaning closer your hand still resting against his cheek. “Every time you show up for Heejoon, every time you keep going, you’re proving how much you care. You’re making him proud, Heeseung. I know it.”

Heeseung looks at you for a long moment, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite place. Finally, he nods, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Where’s Heejoon now?” you ask gently.

“He’s in an assisted living facility,” Heeseung replies. “After the incident, Dad couldn’t… He couldn’t live with him anymore. The guilt ate at him so he sent him away to get professional help. Heejoon’s been there ever since. He’s getting better, slowly. His doctors think he might be able to come home soon.”

You smile softly. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s getting the help he needs.”

Heeseung nods, his expression thoughtful. “I visit him every weekend,” he says.

Your brows furrow slightly. “Every weekend?”

Heeseung glances at you, his brows raising in question.

You hesitate before continuing. “The tabloids… They say you sneak off to Jeju every weekend to sleep with a new model,” you say carefully.

Heeseung scoffs, the sound almost bitter. “Heejoon’s care facility is in Jeju,” he explains. “My parents didn’t want anyone knowing what happened so they sent him there to keep it quiet.”

Your heart aches at the weight he must’ve been carrying alone. “So… those rumors?”

“Bullshit,” Heeseung says firmly. “You’re the first person I’ve slept with in years.”

You blink surprised. “Really?”

He nods. “I won’t lie and say I’ve never slept around. I did, but that was during my undergrad days… before I met Karina.”

The name sends a jolt through you, his ex who he allegedly forced to get an abortion. “Who’s Karina?” you ask carefully, playing oblivious to know the truth.

Heeseung’s expression shifts, the room is quiet save for the hum of the heater and the faint rustle of the sheets as he shifts closer. His hand trails absently along your arm, his touch warm “She was… the first person I ever loved,” he admits.

You listen intently as he begins to tell you about her. He shares how their relationship came to be, how she made him feel seen in a way no one else ever had but he also tells you about the heartbreak that followed when she left. About her carrying another man's baby and leaving because it wasn’t fair to Heeseung despite how badly he wanted her to stay.

Heeseung exhales, his voice trembling just slightly. “I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve convinced her to stay. Instead, I let her go. I told myself it was what she wanted but deep down, I think I was scared. Scared of everything that came with loving her, scared I’d mess it all up anyway.”

He pauses, his fingers grazing your back, his gaze distant. “It’s a pattern, you know? People leave me but maybe… maybe it’s because I push them away first. Like I did with her.”

His words hang heavy in the air. You sit up slightly, leaning on your elbow to face him. “Heeseung, listen to me,” you say softly, your right hand resting gently on his chest. “What happened with Karina wasn’t your fault. You need to stop carrying this like it was all on you, like you had the power to change everything. There’s nothing wrong with you, and you’re more than deserving of love—then and now.”

His lips part slightly as if to protest but no words come out. His eyes search yours, filled with doubt and pain, as though he’s grappling with the possibility of believing you.

“She didn’t leave because you weren’t enough,” you continue. “You were both young, and Karina… she was stuck in an impossible situation. That doesn’t mean you failed her, Heeseung. It doesn’t mean you were to blame. Her insecurities, her choices—they weren’t your burden to carry or fix. Just because you had a past, just because you were more experienced, doesn’t mean you pushed her away. Those were her fears, not a reflection of your worth.”

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, his breathing uneven. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as his brows draw together, struggling with the truth in your words.

“You have to let go of this idea that you’re the reason things fell apart,” you whisper, brushing your thumb tenderly along his jawline. “Sometimes people leave not because of anything you did but because they don’t know how to stay. It’s not about you being enough—it never was. And it doesn’t mean you’re not enough now.”

Heeseung swallows hard, his head dipping as his forehead presses lightly against yours. “I don’t know if I can believe that yet,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

“That’s okay,” you reply, your voice soft but resolute. “I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”

For a moment the room falls into stillness, the only sound is the mingling of your breaths. You feel his arm wrap tighter around your midsection pulling you closer, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.

Then, in the quiet you speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “Heeseung… I already knew about Karina”

His head pulls back slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion as his gaze locks onto yours. “What do you mean?” He asks, his tone cautious, tinged with uncertainty.

You take in a breath gathering the courage to continue. “I knew about her. About what people said. Before you told me.”

His confusion deepens, flickers of uncertainty and hurt shadowing his expression. “How?” he asks softly, his voice low and guarded, his walls creeping back up.

You hesitate, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over you both but you push through the fear because this is Heeseung and he deserves honesty.

“Remember how I told you Chisa is a journalist?” you begin carefully.

Heeseung nods slowly but you can already see it—the way his shoulders tense, the way his eyes darken. His defenses are rising, and it crushes you to watch the vulnerability you’d shared moments ago slip away.

“Chisa is writing an exposé. About your college days. She has a source—someone who knows about Karina, about the rumors that you…that you asked her to get an abortion.”

Heeseung goes still, his body tensing beneath your touch. He’s silent for a moment, his gaze fixed behind you. Then finally he speaks his voice sharp and clipped. “How long have you known?”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, knowing there’s no point in lying. “Chisa got put on the article the day we first met but I didn’t find out about the rumors until… the day you asked me to dinner.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightens and he slowly pulls away from you, the space between you growing wider as your heart drops. He sits up slightly, running a hand through his hair. His expression is a mix of hurt and disbelief.

You instinctively grab the blanket to cover your bare body, not out of modesty but because the emotional distance feels unbearable. “Heeseung…” you begin softly, but he cuts you off.

“You knew all this time,” he says, his voice low and tinged with disbelief. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “Heeseung, you have to understand—Chisa is my best friend. This article is everything to her.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his hair. “And what about me?” he asks, his voice rising slightly. “Did you even think about what that could do to me? About how I’d feel if you believed those rumors?”

“I didn’t believe them. I didn’t, Heeseung but I didn’t know you then. I didn’t know how to bring it up or if I even should! You have to understand—if I said anything to you or Miss Min, it would’ve meant the end of my friendship with Chisa. I didn’t know what to do.”

Heeseung’s gaze is piercing, his silence more cutting than any words he could’ve said. You feel the weight of his disappointment, his hurt and it tears at you. 

You feel tears threaten to spill over now but you don’t bother wiping them away. Instead, you reach for his hand, grabbing onto it tightly even as he stiffens under your touch. The blanket slips from your body leaving you exposed but you don’t care. You need him to understand.

“This wasn’t an easy decision to make. I’ve been stuck between my best friend and her career and the guy I—” You catch yourself, your breath hitching. “The guy I care about. I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. I’m sorry I hurt you but I don’t want you to be blindsided by this Heeseung. I don’t want you to be hurt anymore. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

Heeseung stares at you, his expression softening slightly as your words sink in. He exhales deeply, the anger in his gaze giving way to understanding. “Okay,” he says softly after a long moment, his tone laced with exhaustion. “Okay.”

Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his shoulder. “Don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice gentle again. “Please don’t cry. I’m not mad at you.”

“Are you sure?” you whisper, your voice muffled against his skin.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I could never stay mad at you.”

The two of you settle back under the covers, his arms holding you close again not leaving any space between the two of you. After a beat of silence, Heeseung speaks again. “I have to pull the plug on the article… you know that, right?”

You nod against his chest, your heart sinking at the thought of what this will mean for Chisa and your friendship. “Can you at least let me tell her before you make any phone calls?”

Heeseung hesitates, his fingers massaging your shoulder as he considers your request. “Are you sure you’ll be able to do that? To look her in the eyes and tell her you’re the reason her dreams won’t come true?”

You flinch at the harshness of his words, but you understand where they’re coming from. “I have to,” you say quietly. “I owe her that much.”

Heeseung exhales, nodding reluctantly. “Okay.”

He holds you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head as the two of you sit in silence. Despite everything, there’s a strange sense of comfort in knowing you don’t have to carry this secret anymore. As the minutes stretch on, the tension slowly fades, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breaths syncing together. And eventually, the two of you drift off to sleep, tangled in each other’s arms.

THE NEXT MORNING

You wake up slowly, sunlight streaming through the curtains and warming the room. For a moment, you forget where you are, your body pressed against soft sheets and someone warm and firm beside you. Blinking, the events of last night come flooding back and a soft smile tugs at your lips. You hadn’t planned to stay the night but waking up here wrapped in Heeseung’s arms, doesn’t feel like a mistake. It feels… right.

Shifting slightly, you glance over at him. He’s still asleep, his features relaxed and peaceful in the early morning light. His hair is slightly mussed, his lips parted as he breathes deeply. He looks younger like this, the weight he often carries nowhere in sight.

You try to move carefully not wanting to wake him up but the slight shift of your body stirs him. His arms tighten instinctively around your waist, pulling you closer as his eyes flutter open.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep and a small smile curving his lips.

“Morning,” you reply softly, your own smile growing.

Heeseung leans in and presses a lingering kiss to your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. When he pulls back, his eyes are filled with a warmth that makes your heart race. “I could get used to waking up like this,” he says, his voice still low.

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face, the silky red strands slipping through your fingers. “As nice as this is, I really should get going. Chisa’s probably worried about me.”

Before you can move, Heeseung tightens his hold on you, burying his face in your neck with a dramatic sigh. When he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his lower lip juts out in a pout so exaggerated it almost makes you laugh out loud.

“Stay,” he whines, his voice soft and petulant. “Just for a little longer. Please?”

You blink, momentarily stunned. This side of him is so unlike the composed and confident Heeseung you’ve grown accustomed to. The playful pout on his lips, the slight scrunch of his nose, and the sparkle of mischief in his eyes are all so…unexpected.

And yet, you think to yourself, you’d like to see this version of him more often, this carefree boyish Heeseung who doesn’t seem burdened.

You shake your head, laughing. “Heeseung, as much as I’d love to stay in bed all day, I promised Yunho I’d spend the day with him. And knowing my friends, Jaehyun and Chisa are probably going to tag along.”

At the mention of your plans, Heeseung lets out a resigned sigh, finally releasing his hold on you. “Fine,” he mutters, feigning annoyance. “But only because I’m trying to be supportive of your friendships.”

You sit up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you begin gathering your clothes. As you pull your shirt over your head, you glance over at Heeseung. “What about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He clears his throat, his gaze flickering briefly away before returning to you as you move around the room. “I called Miss Min last night,” he begins quietly. “Postponed announcing the engagement.”

Your hands still for a moment, your chest tightening as you think of Sakura and what this means for her. “What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung sighs, his fingers raking through his hair. “I need to talk to Sakura today. In person, it’s the least I can do,” he says softly.

Your heart sinks a little further, your thoughts drifting to Sakura’s feelings for him and how this will affect her. “Let me know how it goes,” you say gently, folding your arms across your chest. “I’d like to apologize to her too.”

Heeseung hesitates, his brows knitting together. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “I don’t mind taking the blame for this. You don’t need to get involved any more than you already are.”

You shake your head firmly. “No, Heeseung. I’m just as complicit in all of this. You shouldn’t have to shoulder all the blame—not after everything you’ve already been through. I need to own my part in it too.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, and he takes a step closer, his hands brushing gently against your waist.  He studies you for a moment before nodding, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, trying to mask the flutter of your heart. “Don’t try to distract me with compliments,” you tease lightly, though the smile on your lips betrays your feigned irritation.

Heeseung chuckles softly, pulling you closer for a brief moment before letting his hands fall away. “I mean it,” he murmurs.

Once you’re dressed, you grab your phone from the nightstand, only to find it completely dead. Letting out a sigh, you glance over at Heeseung, who is now standing by the bed in just his boxers.

“You should probably put some clothes on,” you tease, unable to stop the smile that forms as he approaches you.

Heeseung smirks, his hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you close. “Why? Planning on staying a little longer?”

You roll your eyes but your heart flutters as he leans down to kiss you. It’s slow and unhurried, filled with a tenderness that makes you momentarily forget why you need to leave.

When he finally pulls back, you sigh. “As tempting as that is, I really need to go. I have to tell Chisa about the article.”

“Stay for breakfast, at least?” he asks, his tone hopeful.

You hesitate, but the look in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. “Fine,” you relent, laughing softly. “One day, I’ll learn how to tell you no.”

Heeseung grins, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen. “Good luck with that,” he teases.

You hop onto the countertop as he pulls out a pan and begins preparing the ingredients for pancakes. Watching him move around the kitchen, you find yourself thinking about how natural this feels—how easy it is to picture mornings like this being a regular thing.

As he pours the batter onto the pan, he slides between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs. “Gimme a kiss.”

“The pancakes will burn,” you say, laughing softly.

“They will if you don’t hurry up and kiss me,” he counters, his lips quirking into a playful smirk.

You roll your eyes but lean in, intending to give him a quick peck. Heeseung has other plans, deepening the kiss until you’re breathless. When he finally pulls back, he’s grinning smugly.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter but the warmth in your chest betrays your words.

“Impossible to resist,” he quips, turning back to the stove just in time to flip the pancake, which, to your surprise, isn’t burnt.

Once the pancakes are done, you help him with the eggs while he cuts up some fresh fruit he had laying around. The two of you work together, the easy banter making the morning feel light and carefree.

When everything is ready, you sit together at the kitchen island, plates filled with food. For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of utensils and quiet conversation.

Heeseung breaks the silence, his tone thoughtful. “I could get used to this.”

You glance at him, your cheeks warming. “Me too,” you admit softly.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you in a way that makes your heart race.

“Your food’s going to get cold,” you say, laughing nervously under his gaze.

Heeseung shrugs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Worth it.”

You shove his shoulder lightly, trying to hide your flustered state. “Eat,” you scold, and he chuckles before finally picking up his fork.

As you finish your plate, you take a sip of the orange juice he poured for you, noting how he remembered your preference for sweet drinks. You don’t comment on it but the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.

When Heeseung finishes eating, he stands and helps clear the dishes, his movements unhurried. You grab your bag and dead phone ready to head out.

Heeseung walks you to the door, his hand resting lightly on your waist. As you step outside, he makes no move to let go.

“You’re just in your boxers,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“So?” he replies, a teasing grin on his lips.

You swat his arm, laughing softly. “Go back inside before your neighbors get an eyeful.”

Heeseung laughs, pulling you into one last kiss before letting you go. “Drive safe,” he murmurs, his voice soft.

You nod, smiling as you climb into your car. The drive home is quiet, the events of the morning replaying in your mind.

When you arrive, you park your car and head up to your apartment building but when you step into the space, the atmosphere shifts. “Chisa?” you call out, your voice tentative as you set your bag down by the door.

The apartment is eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. You step further inside rounding the corner and your breath catches in your throat.

Chisa is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her back rigid and her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. Her hands rest limply in her lap but there’s a tension radiating from her body that makes your stomach twist.

“Chisa?” you try again softer this time, taking a cautious step forward.

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even blink. The silence stretches heavy and suffocating as you kneel in front of her, your hand hesitantly reaching for her shoulder.

“Hey,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

This time, her eyes shift, locking onto yours with a sharpness that sends a shiver down your spine. Her gaze is cold, unyielding, and when she finally speaks, her voice is low and chilling.

“Did you tell Heeseung about my article?”

You freeze. The words knock the air out of your lungs, leaving you grasping for a response. How does she know? Heeseung promised to give you time to talk to her yourself.

“I—what?” you stammer, the sudden intensity of her glare making your heart race.

Chisa’s jaw clenches as she rises to her feet, looming over you. “I got a phone call from his lawyers in the middle of the night. They said I can’t publish my exposé. Did you tell him?”

Your chest tightens as realization dawns. Heeseung must have made the call while you were sleeping. A flicker of anger sparks within you—why hadn’t he let you handle this? You push it down, trying to focus on Chisa who looks like she’s seconds away from exploding.

“Yes.”

Chisa scoffs, her expression twisting into one of disbelief and fury. She takes a step back, shaking her head. “Unbelievable,” she mutters before spinning around and storming toward the hallway.

“Chisa, wait!” you call, scrambling to your feet and following her. “Please, just listen—”

She whirls around so suddenly that you almost stumble. Her hands shoot out, shoving you backward with a force that knocks the breath out of you.

You stumble, catching yourself. The shock of it leaves you frozen for a moment, your mind struggling to catch up with what just happened. Chisa has never done anything like this before. You’ve argued in the past, of course you have, but even in your worst moments, she never laid a hand on you. Not once.

She’s seething. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her fists clenched so tightly at her sides that her knuckles turn white. Her eyes, usually warm and filled with love or mischief, are blazing with an intensity that makes your stomach churn.

“Listen to what?” she spits, her voice rising. “To you defending that manwhore? To you justifying why you chose him over me?”

“I didn’t choose him over you!”

“Yes, you did! You sacrificed my career for him! For what? Did he fuck you too?”

The words hit you like a slap and your mouth opens but no sound comes out. Chisa’s eyes widen as she takes in your reaction, her expression shifting from anger to disgust.

“No way,” she whispers, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You sold me out for some dick? Were you that fucking desperate?”

Your chest tightens with indignation. “It’s not like that!” you snap, your voice rising to match hers. “My relationship with Heeseung has nothing to do with why I told him.”

Chisa stares at you as if you’ve grown another head, her voice dripping with disdain. “Relationship?” She lets out a humorless laugh. “For someone with a master’s degree in psychology, you’re one dumb bitch. He’s not capable of loving anyone. Not his ex, not Sakura, and definitely not you.”

You flinch at the mention of Sakura, your mind racing. “Sakura? What—”

Chisa cuts you off, turning on her heel and storming back into the living room. She grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, jabbing the buttons with trembling hands.

The screen flickers to life, and your stomach drops like a stone when the news anchor’s voice fills the room. Their tone is bright and celebratory.

“Breaking news! A fairytale ending for Lee Heeseung and Miyawaki Sakura.”

A photo of the two smiling together flashes on the screen, and your knees feel like they might give out.

Chisa crosses her arms, her glare burning into you as the broadcast loops back to commentary. “The announcement was made official two hours ago,” she says coldly, her voice cutting through the air.

Two hours ago.

You were sitting in Heeseung’s kitchen, eating pancakes while he talked about getting used to seeing you in his home. He had said he’d told Miss Min to postpone the announcement. He’d promised. Your mind spins, struggling to reconcile the timeline. Did Heeseung lie? Or did something else happen, something out of his control?

“He’s scum. All he cares about is sex. And for you to think he could be happy with you—” She shakes her head.

“That’s not true! Your source lied, Chisa. He didn’t force Karina to have an abortion! He’s not sneaking off to Jeju every weekend to sleep with someone new! It’s all rumors, and the press has it twisted. They’re making his life hell! I couldn’t let you publish that article. It would have ruined him.”

Chisa’s expression shifts, her glare turning into something almost unrecognizable. Hurt mingles with her anger, and her voice trembles as she fires back, “So what? It was better to ruin me?”

You snap.

“Not everything is about you, Chisa! He’s a person too, with real feelings! He’s been through so much and he doesn’t deserve this!” You take a shaky breath, your voice still trembling with emotion. “There will always be another article to write, another person to exploit but Heeseung doesn’t deserve it. Get over yourself.”

Chisa’s face falls, her eyes wide with disbelief but you don’t give her a chance to respond. You turn on your heel and storm to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Your chest heaves as you lean against the door, your mind racing. This is not how things were supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to fight with Chisa—not like this.

You take a shaky breath and push off the door, fumbling to plug your phone into the charger. Impatience gnaws at you and you grab your laptop instead flipping it open and opening your messaging app.

Messages flood the screen. Texts from Chisa, Dani, even Miss Min.

7:25 pm | chiz🧸: where are you? game night started!!! 7:50 pm | chiz🧸: nvm yunho told me you can’t make it 10:49 pm | chiz🧸: im back home now where r u loser 12:15 am | chiz🧸: ? 

You close the tab, your chest tightening as guilt seeps in.

4:32 am | danielle: do you know why heeseung called the office to postpone the announcement???

You let out a sigh of relief. Heeseung hadn’t changed his mind. He tried to stop it. You make a mental note to respond to Dani later, opting to read Miss Min’s messages.

4:55 am | Boss: You need to meet with Heeseung and Sakura. Get them aligned again. 10:37 am | Boss: The announcement is moving forward. It’s what his parents want.

So that’s what happened. A new message pings on your screen, it’s from Heeseung.

12:08 pm | heeseung: just saw the news. i’m so sorry 12:08 pm | heeseung: i don’t know what happened but i’ll fix it. 12:08 pm | heeseung: i’m on my way to meet with sakura now.

You don’t respond, instead you fall against your bed frame overwhelmed. Tears threaten to spill but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. This can be fixed you try to reason, yeah. This can be fixed. Instead of wallowing in tears, you strip off your clothes and head into the bathroom. A hot shower…that’ll make everything better.

The water warms your skin, soothing your tense muscles as you try to wash away the sweat and grime from the night before. But your mind won’t stop racing. You think about Heeseung. About boundaries you’ll need to set with him. About Chisa—her hurt, her anger, the way she shoved you. The memory stings as do her words. You wonder if you’ll ever be okay again.

Steam fills the room, but it doesn’t clear the haze in your mind. All you can do is stand there, letting the water wash over you, hoping it’ll drown out your sadness. You spend over an hour in there, letting the water wash over you and your thoughts consume you.

When you exit the shower, the bathroom is silent save for the steady drip of water from the showerhead as you step out, your skin flushed from the heat. You grab a towel and wrap it around yourself, your hands moving on autopilot as you dry off. The warmth of the shower clings to your skin providing some comfort.

You pull on a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized hoodie before padding back into your bedroom, you glance at your phone charging on the nightstand. Its screen lights up repeatedly, vibrating with an almost frantic urgency.

Frowning, you unplug it. The moment it’s in your hand, it buzzes again, a steady stream of notifications flooding the screen. Text after text appears, the sheer volume of them making your stomach churn.

Your sister’s name catches your eye, her message buried among others from Dani, Heeseung, and even Jaehyun.

Your breath hitches. Your sister hasn’t spoken to you in months. She claims to be too busy with her husband and kids but truthfully you think she just can’t stomach being around you knowing each conversation you’ll bring up your mother.

Why is she reaching out now?

Before you can open her messages, another text pops up at the top of the screen from Jaehyun.

12:12 pm | hyunie🐶: are you okay?

Your chest tightens. A gnawing sense of dread climbs up your spine as you respond

12:13 pm | you: ??? 12:13 pm | hyunie🐶: you haven’t seen? 12:14 pm | you: seen what?

The three dots indicating he’s typing appear and you hold your breath, dread pooling in your stomach. When the link comes through, you click it without thinking.

Your heart plummets as you read the headline: Heeseung’s Secret Romance: Scandal Behind the Engagement.

The article is a brutal exposé, detailing Heeseung’s past controversies, his relationship with Karina, the lies about the abortion then him trying to rebrand by leeching off of Sakura through an engagement and finally, the revelation of an affair. Chisa posted it anyway. She posted the exposé.

Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps as you skim the article. Chisa’s words are scathing, painting you as a homewrecker and Heeseung as a manipulative womanizer. She leaves you nameless but the implications are clear, this is her firing back at you.

Your phone buzzes again and you almost drop it. Jaehyun is calling.

You answer, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hello?”

“Is it true?” 

“...Yes.”

“Shit. Okay. Look, stay off your phone. Don’t read any more of it, okay? Yunho and I are coming over.”

You nod instinctively forgetting he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Just… don’t spiral. We’ll be there soon.”

The call ends but you don’t put your phone down. You can’t. The panic bubbling inside you demands an outlet and ignoring it feels impossible. Against Jaehyun’s advice, you open Twitter.

Your name is trending. So are Heeseung's and Sakura’s.

You click on the hashtag, your heart pounding as you scroll through the tweets. Each tweet feels like a slap to the face, but you can’t stop. You keep scrolling, the comments getting worse and worse.

A new post catches your eye, a link to a Naver article. The thumbnail is a picture of you and Heeseung walking out of the hotel bar after your one-on-one meeting. The title is even worse than Chisa’s: Lee Heeseung’s Mistress Revealed: The Marriage Counselor Who Betrayed the Nation’s Princess

The article is a gallery of photos and commentary, each image scrutinizing your every move. This one names you outright, detailing how you entered Heeseung’s life as a marriage counselor assigned to help him and Sakura navigate their engagement.

Instead of counseling the couple, sources claim ____ became romantically involved with Heeseung, undermining Sakura, a beloved actress and national icon. Photographic evidence further suggests a relationship that goes beyond professionalism.

Photographs accompany the text.

Him picking you up for dinner, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

You walking into the restaurant on valentines holding the bouquet he gave you.

You entering his home late at night.

You leaving this morning, followed by a quick shot of him kissing you goodbye.

The captions are unsavory.

“Caught in the act: ____ leaving Lee Heeseung’s home after a cozy night in.”, “A romantic dinner for two—how long has this been going on?”

You scroll down to the comments, your vision blurring as you read them.

⤑ she’s disgusting. how dare she betray sakura like this? +1,102 ⤑ heeseung’s trash but she’s worse. she’s supposed to be a counselor? what a joke 💀 +874 ⤑ poor sakura. she deserves so much better (╥﹏╥) +2,347 ⤑ omo she’s so brazen 💀 +366

Your chest tightens painfully and your hands begin to shake. The more you scroll, the worse it gets.

⤑ she knew exactly what she was doing. she’s a homewrecker. +613 ⤑ imagine being this desperate. she’s ruined her career for what? a fling? ㅋㅋㅋㅋ +1,209 ⤑ sakura is the nation’s princess. this woman is a nobody. she doesn’t deserve him. +4,102

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as the room seems to shrink around you. Your phone trembles in your hands, and the screen darkens for a moment, forcing you to see your own reflection—tear-streaked and unrecognizable.

You sink to the floor, your back pressed against your bed, the phone slipping from your grasp. A loud creak breaks through the haze.

The door to your room opens slowly and you look up to see Chisa standing there, her expression is unreadable, somewhere between anger and exhaustion.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

Your lips part to say something—anything—but the words catch in your throat.

Chisa steps farther into the room, her gaze sharp and accusing. “You’ve turned into him, you know.”

You blink, confused. “What?”

Her lips curl into a bitter smile but there’s no humor in it. “Your dad. You’ve turned into your father.”

“I…”

“You always hated him for what he did to your mom,” Chisa continues, her voice rising with every word. “Every time he cheated, every time he lied, every time your mom sat crying in the kitchen, you hated him. You swore you’d never be like him. That’s why you became a marriage counselor, isn’t it? To stop people like him from ruining their families.”

Your heart pounds as memories flood back—your mother’s tear-streaked face, Chisa’s arms wrapped around you as she whispered, It’s going to be okay, I've got you. But now…

Chisa’s voice drops, the anger giving way to something softer, sadder. “And yet, here you are. Sleeping with someone else’s fiancée. How do you think that makes me feel? Watching you become the very thing you hate most?”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the truth lodges itself in your throat. The excuses you’ve told yourself—Heeseung and Sakura aren’t really in love, their relationship isn’t real, this is different—feel hollow without him here to hold you, to remind you that you aren’t a monster because even if the engagement wasn’t real, Sakura’s feelings for Heeseung are and you knew that, you knew and still went for it.

The thought grips you, your stomach twisting as guilt crashes over you like a tidal wave. You’re no better than your father.

“Chisa…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what? To hurt people? To betray the one person you were supposed to help? You think that makes it better?”

Tears blur your vision but you don’t bother wiping them away.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Chisa shakes her head. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t undo what you’ve done. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re exactly like him.”

For a moment, you think she’s going to leave but she lingers in the doorway, her gaze softening just enough to twist the knife.

“He’s not a good person,” she says finally, her voice quiet but firm. “And neither are you, if you keep letting him drag you down.”

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence. The room feels colder after Chisa leaves. Her words play on a loop in your head, relentless and unforgiving.

“You’ve turned into him.”

“You’re exactly like him.”

You press your palms to your eyes, trying to block out the memory but it’s no use. It claws at you.

Chisa had been there for all of it—every fight, every slammed door, every tear your mother cried. She’d been the one who stayed up with you in your room, distracting you with dumb jokes and snack runs when the shouting downstairs became too much. She was the one who held you when you sobbed after catching your father’s texts to another woman, promising you that you’d never have to deal with anything like that when you were older.

Not your sister.

She had her own way of dealing with it. When things got bad, she’d leave, disappearing for days at a time. Spending nights at friends’ houses, coming back only when she couldn’t avoid it anymore. Then she left altogether—first for college, then for her own life, far away from the wreckage of your family.

Chisa stayed.

She was more of a sister to you than your actual sister ever was. She sat through the storm with you soaked in the same despair and somehow managed to hold you together when you thought you might break apart.

And now, after everything, you’ve betrayed her.

The irony tastes bitter, twisting in your gut like a knife. You didn’t just become the thing you despised; you became the thing that broke your family.

Your phone buzzes again from where it lies abandoned on the floor. You glance at it, reluctant to pick it up but the notifications don’t stop. They come in rapid succession, each one a reminder of how far this has spiraled out of control.

Your hands shake as you reach for it, curiosity overriding the gnawing dread. The screen lights up, showing messages from people you haven’t spoken to in years—college acquaintances, coworkers, even distant family.

You clutch the phone tighter, staring at the screen without seeing it. it’s all too much. Finally, you set the phone aside and pull your knees to your chest.

You don’t cry.

Instead, you sit there in silence, replaying everything in your mind. The choice to be with Heeseung, your night spent tangled in his arms, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. You don’t regret any of it—not the moments you shared, not the feelings that grew despite everything stacked against you. What you feel for him is real and that’s something no headline or scandal can take away.

But you also can’t ignore the fallout. Your career lies in ruins, Chisa, your best friend—your sister in every sense of the word wants nothing to do with you and the trust you’d spent years building with her is gone. You’ve lost her and the weight of that is unbearable.

The word temptation floats to the surface of your mind. It’s what started all of this, isn’t it? The pull of something you can’t have, the magnetic force of wanting someone you weren’t meant to want. 

You don’t regret Heeseung but you do regret everything it’s cost you. Temptation led you here. Desire kept you here.

And for the first time, you’re not sure how to fix it.

➤ taglist: @adoredbyjay @acousarah @fancypeacepersona @lovingvoidgoatee @seungjiseyo @starry-eyed-bimbo @cloud-lyy @lprww @mitmit01 @cupiddolle @heestruck @sol3chu @xylatox  @planetmarlowe @M1kkso @clandestineself @yuniesluv @wonniesdoll @i03jae @aggarwaldrishti @jakesfurry @hanversace @right-person-wrong-time @missychief1404 @iamliacamila @jaems-left-toe @heesngmluv @ssanhwatto @itsyagirll @theothernads

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.

CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's still goofy XD

WC: 1800+

Part 1 | Masterlist

You’re sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand, waiting for your friend to finish flirting with the bartender so you can pay your tab, when you hear a familiar voice from behind.

“Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

You glance over your shoulder wearily, instantly recognizing the tall aviator you met at the clinic earlier in the week. Bradshaw, was it? “Yeah, I get that a lot,” you say, giving him a polite smile before turning away.

Bradley doesn’t take the hint and plants himself on the barstool next to you. “So, are you gonna tell me your name? Or am I just gonna have to keep calling you Doc? Might get a bit awkward in bed.”

You snort into your drink as you’re taking a sip. Bradley grins, clearly pleased that he’s made you laugh. His slightly narrowed eyes sweep over your face with a quiet confidence, and you find yourself rather enjoying his attention. “Well, for the sake of making things less awkward,” you respond with a small smile, and then tell him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then leans forward slightly to add, “again.”

You bite into your lip to suppress your widening grin.

“I was hoping I’d run into you, actually,” he comments, turning away to flag down the otherwise occupied bartender.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, feigning surprise.

“Yeah,” Bradley responds, tapping on his beer bottle and nodding at the bartender. He turns back to you and shrugs. “Saves me from having to fake an illness to come see you.”

You eye him somewhat reproachfully. “That would be extremely inappropriate.”

Bradley laughs. “If you think that’s inappropriate, I’m not gonna tell you what I planned on doing once I got there.”

Your eyes widen at the insinuation. “Lieutenant!” you exclaim.

Bradley continues chuckling. “Don’t worry, you’d have liked it.” He winks and then nods at the bartender who’s brought him his beer.

You stare at him because his boldness is mindboggling. “You shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” you point out.

He looks at you with amusement. “What head injury?”

“The one that brought you to my office?”

“You know what brought me to your office?” he says, and then points a thumb over his shoulder at a crowded table near the back of the bar. “Captain Maverick Mitchell. My self-appointed father figure,” he says in a tone that’s half-grudging, half-affectionate. “And possibly fate,” he adds as an afterthought.

You blink at him skeptically when he glances back at you. “Wow,” you say. “Pulling out the big guns.”

Bradley laughs again. “I have quite the arsenal.”

“Oh, I bet,” you say with a chuckle. “Aviator, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bradley responds proudly. Then he nods at the glass you bring to your lips. “Looks like you need a refill.”

You shake your head. “I was about to head out actually.”

Bradley purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “But then I arrived and changed your mind, right?”

You laugh slightly. “Not quite, Lieutenant,” you respond, rising from your stool and waving at the bartender. “I’ve got an early morning.”

Bradley gets out of his seat and pulls out his wallet. “Allow me, please,” he says.

“That’s not necessary,” you reply uncomfortably. You don’t like feeling indebted to anyone.

Bradley gives you a more serious look. “It’s the least I could do for nagging you this evening.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads of its own accord. You find Bradley reasonably attractive, sure. But it’s the way he carries himself that’s really got you hooked. You can hardly pull your gaze away. “Don’t forget about the part where you were the most obnoxious patient.”

Bradley lets out a hearty laugh. “That deserves a whole pint, Doc.”

You give him a smile. “Maybe another time,” you say politely. Despite his persistence, you can’t jeopardize your position at the clinic by consorting with a patient.

But before you turn to leave, Captain Mitchell approaches the bar and, upon perceiving you, he exclaims, “Oh! It’s the doctor!” He gestures in your direction while looking at Bradley.

Bradley gives him a flat look. “No shit,” he says.

Maverick glances between the two of you and then nods in realization. “You’ve spotted her already.”

You press your lips together to conceal a smile as Bradley brings a hand to his face like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his ‘self-appointed father figure’. “Hello again,” you say to the captain, extending your hand.

“Good to see you, Doctor,” Maverick replies with a knowing grin, shaking your hand. “Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

“Oh god,” Bradley groans. “That's embarrassing.”

Maverick looks over at him with a confused expression while you giggle. “I was actually planning on scheduling him in for a follow-up,” Maverick says. “Noticed some concerning behaviors.”

You raise your eyebrows while Bradley watches Maverick’s profile incredulously.

“New behaviors?” you ask, glancing back at Bradley.

“No, no.” Maverick waves a hand nonchalantly as he settles onto a barstool. “Not new.”

Bradley shakes his head. “Why are you such a shit disturber?”

Maverick laughs and claps him on the back. “You buy the lady a drink yet?”

You drop your head slightly to hide your growing smile.

“I was trying to,” Bradley declares. “Before your ass showed up.”

You look up apologetically at the two men who are now watching you expectantly. “I’m not…thirsty.”

Maverick winces while Bradley’s shoulders visibly fall. “It’s his fault, isn’t it?” Bradley says, gesturing at Maverick with his thumb again.

“How is it my fault?” Maverick exclaims.

“It’s not his fault,” you attest, glancing at the captain.

“You should talk some more about my concerning behaviors,” Bradley retorts.

Maverick snorts. “I was kidding!” he says. “She knows!” he gestures at you. “You know, right?”

You glance between the two men patiently, wondering if they realize just how much they have in common. “Neither of you is driving tonight, right?” you ask, feeling, for some strange reason, a sense of responsibility for them.

Maverick turns to face you with a jolt. “I’m sober,” he asserts.

Bradley’s eyebrows converge in a dubious expression before he looks back at you. “He’s not driving,” he confirms.

“And you?”

“This is only my second beer!” he exclaims.

You meet his gaze with a smile because you don’t want him to feel attacked. “Okay,” you respond gently. “Drive safe.”

You start to walk away when you hear Bradley say, “Can I walk you to your car, Doc?”

You turn to face him again, about halfway to the door. “You know my name now,” you say, and he grins at you.

“I do,” he agrees. “That was for old times’ sake.”

You sigh. “Sure, Lieutenant. You can walk me to my car.”

…

Out in the parking lot, Bradley muses, “I’m thinking of maybe dislocating my shoulder next week. That’s an easy fix, right?”

You look over at him sharply. “That’s not funny.”

Bradley grins. “Not even a little?”

You roll your eyes at him and continue walking.

“Come on, Doc!” he calls after you. “My sense of humor is a good thing, remember?”

You smile to yourself and slow your pace to let him catch up. “There are other ways of getting my attention besides injuring yourself,” you remark as he falls back in step with you.

“Such as?” he asks.

You approach your car and unlock the door. “I can’t give away all the answers, can I?”

Bradley presses his lips together and grins. “Does that mean I have a shot?”

You lower your gaze coyly. “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“That’s not a ‘no’,” he points out.

You smile, glancing back up at him. “No,” you agree. “I suppose it’s not.”

Bradley’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he holds your gaze. “Can I take you to dinner?” he asks.

“No,” you reply almost immediately. Then, after a beat, you add, “Not yet.”

Bradley licks his lips, still grinning. “I’ll take it.”

You chuckle slightly, reaching for the door to your car.

“Can I stand here with you a little longer?” he asks, his voice a little more raspy when it isn’t bursting with confidence.

You pause, your hand still on the door, shocked at how desperately you want to oblige. How delightful it would be to just say yes on a whim. Without considering the repercussions or weighing the pros and cons. Without deliberation or apprehension. Impulsively. The word itself makes you flustered. “Okay,” you say, glancing up at him as he shifts a little closer.

Bradley smiles at you and leans his back to the car. He stands quietly for a few moments, just existing beside you, which you find both endearing and infuriating. You don’t have a lot of time on your hands and simply standing around is a colossal waste of it in your books. But something about the warm evening breeze paired with the smell of the ocean and Bradley’s crisp cologne makes the experience less harrowing, and maybe even possibly pleasant.

Still, you’re restless. “So, when you said you wanted to stand here, you actually meant stand here…” you comment.

Bradley glances down at you with an amused expression. “You got something else in mind, Doc?”

You half-snort, half-chuckle. “I just thought maybe you had something else to say. I didn’t realize we’d be standing in silence.”

Bradley grins at you. “It’s called being present.”

You study him with a slight grimace, genuinely trying to keep your cynicism at bay. Being present isn’t a kind of luxury you can often afford. Most days, you don’t even get a chance to eat sitting down. “What does that accomplish?” you ask.

Bradley, who’s still watching you with a smile, replies, “Does everything you do have a purpose?”

“Of course,” you say. “Why else would I do it?”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and puts his hands into his pockets. “That’s very practical of you.”

“It’s efficient,” you point out, trying to highlight the importance of productivity.

Bradley nods patiently. “Sounds like you need a night off, Doc.”

You laugh. “I just had a night off. But it had a purpose – my friend needed help wooing the bartender.”

Bradley chuckles. “Has the purpose ever been to just have a good time?”

You make a face and shrug. “That’s not really a priority of mine.”

“Wow, Doc, you’re a hoot,” Bradley replies facetiously.

“I warned you,” you remind him, opening your car door.

Bradley leans his arm over the frame of your car as you climb inside. “You know you leave me no choice, right?” he says, ducking his head slightly to peer into the vehicle.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“We’re going to have to rearrange your list of priorities,” he says.

You watch him for a moment, marveling at his persistence. His gaze drops briefly to your lips before flitting back up to your eyes again, and you wonder what it might feel like to be kissed by a guy like Bradley. It would probably be sexy and spontaneous. It would probably catch you off guard and possibly even offend you a little. Then again, maybe you wouldn’t mind being mildly offended if it meant kissing Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. “I’m not sure that’s a realistic goal,” you say. Your tone might be sarcastic, but the statement is fairly accurate.

Bradley grins. “I don’t mind a challenge.”

Rooster Tag List:

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[gh0stsp1d3r]

Prince Charming

req: Can i request dad!jj x mom!reader when she breastfeeding in public BC I geniusly want to know how he would react, possessive ? goofy ?

Warnings: breastfeeding, DAMN KARENS, protective jj <33, dad!jayj, fluff

“Aw shit.” He grumbled when she started to sob in line, everyone turning to look at them. “What? Never heard a baby cry before?” He told them, you hitting his shoulder. But it worked, they all turned back around, embarrassed that the Maybank boy would call them out.

You sighed, picking her up, and checking her diaper real quick. That wasn’t the problem. So you started to cradle her, shushing her gently and rocking her in your arms. Her sobs still hadn’t quieted. You glanced around the cafe, turning back to JJ.

“Go sit down.” He shrugged, leaning down to the baby in your arms, tickling her and making a funny face in attempt to make her smile or laugh.

It made her laugh for a moment, but when he stopped, her sobs were right back. You gave him a small smile, as a thank you for the attempt.

“I got it. I remember your order. It’s a-“

“I know you do.” You giggled, shaking your head at the boy and grabbing the stroller with one hand , walking to the nearest corner as quickly as you could.

You sat her down in your lap, and began to look for anything to cover yourself, since your baby hated the nursing cover. You couldn’t find anything and she had began to tug on your shirt, so you huffed and just pulled it up, not caring at this point.

JJ came back with your drinks and food rather quick, sitting next to you, giving you a small smile and setting it onto the table.

Your baby latched onto your nipple, and you already knew people would be staring. They always did.

JJ glanced around, scooting closer to you when he noticed a specific man staring a little too concentrated. JJ glared at the man, making direct eye contact with him.

The man turned away, swallowing the lump in his throat. JJ smiled victoriously, turning back to you. That’s when he noticed more stares, from younger kids and others, who you could care less about.

“These fucking people need to mind their business.” He grumbled out, sipping on the coffee he had in front of him.

“They always stare.” You shrugged. “I give up on caring at this point.”

“It’s like they’ve never seen a pair of tits in their life.” He snorted, you turning to face him and raising your eyebrow at him.

“What? I’m just saying the truth.” He murmured, putting an arm on your chair and around you.

“Sometimes I wonder how I let myself get knocked up by you.”

“Fair enough.” He tilted his head to the side. Everything was fine for a little. You were drinking your water, Jj was content with drinking his coffee, rambling on, and she was still drinking your milk. That was until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You both turned, looking at the older woman who stared down at you. You knew when she had a Karen haircut, that she would be saying some shit.

“Uhm, excuse me. That is extremely inappropriate, and you shouldn’t be doing it in a public place.”

JJ had a scowl on his face at her words, you looking at the woman confused and anger beginning to bubble in your stomach.

“I’m sorry?” You scoffed, glancing down at your baby.

“My husband is at the table, and we both find it difficult to eat when we’re distracted by…” she motioned to your baby with her hands.

You had to laugh. You laughed in her face, her making a disgusted face.

“Yeah, I think your husband is distracted for a different reason, lady.” JJ glanced at the man sitting at the table. He waved, the man staring at him. “I know, she’s got tits, crazy, woo fucking hoo. Can you leave us alone?” He exclaimed.

“It is disgusting, why not go into the bathroom or something and do… that?”

You were going to open your mouth before JJ spoke for you.

“Oh my god, mind your business. The baby’s hungry, why is that so weird and disgusting? It’s not.”

She huffed, immediately going over to the workers, demanding a manager. JJ scoffed, pulling you both closer towards him, glancing at the lady’s husband.

“Your girlfriend could be a bit more… modest.” He spoke.

“And you could go fuck yourself.” JJ retorted before turning back to you.

“Thank you.” You murmured to him.

“Don’t thank me. Gotta keep my girls safe, don’t I?”

“Oh, Prince Charming.” You retorted. “What would I do without you?”

“You would die without me.”

“I probably would.” You smiled, the manager walking over to your table, the woman standing next to him.

“What seems to be the problem?” He sighed out, not seeming so amused by the lady.

You shrugged, JJ just still glaring at the lady. “I’m just trying to feed her.” You murmured.

“She’s doing it in public! Where anyone- a child can see… all her stuff!”

JJ’s jaw tightened, the manager taking notice. “Okay- okay, can we, like, calm down?” He told the woman.

“Kick them out and then I will!”

JJ was struggling to keep his composure, you knew it. You turned to him, laying a hand on his arm and shaking your head.

“They’re not doing anything wrong.” The manager spoke to the lady. “There’s nothing I can do. But you’re causing a disruption, and I’m afraid if it continues, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” He told her, her face falling. She shook her head, grabbing her purse and stuff, then both leaning while shouting.

The manager sighed, going over to the table, wiping it down and picking up cups, stopping at your table again.

“Sorry about that. My wife used to breastfeed, and I can’t tell you how annoying it is when people like that exist.” He laughed, you smiling and laughing along. “How old is she?”

“6 months.” You smiled, glancing down at her before turning back to the man.

“That’s lovely. Miss them when they’re that young. Mines is 14 now.”

“Oh, that’s great!” You told him, he smiled and shrugged.

“Yeah.” You could just tell the fondness he had for them, in his eyes and the way he spoke. “Well, you two have a good day, alright?”

“You too.” JJ gave him a small smile, nodding his head, before turning back to you. You moved to unlatch her, once you felt like she had enough. JJ pulled down your shirt, and you sat her down and finally began to eat in peace.

“Oh my God.” He suddenly spoke, you turning to him with furrowed eyebrows. “What? What?” You asked him.

“I’m gonna teach her how to cuss at people.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. So when you don’t have me, your Prince Charming, you have her just going ‘fwuck you!’ It’s perfect.”

“Yeah, well, that’s if she doesn’t pick your sailors mouth before you can even teach her.”

“Hey, you cuss just as much as me, ma’am.”

“I’m not saying ‘fuck, shit, or piss’ every 20 minutes though.”

He thought for a moment, before nodding. “You’re right.”

“I know I am.”

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Yamaha XT500: slowing down

Contents: bts of Yamaha XT500, providing context of their conversation, slight sexual language, angsty, inappropriate workplace behaviour?

You’re nervous. 

The past week has been uncomfortable and awkward. Your boss was preoccupied with another girl, and you know you shouldn’t be jealous; she’s a client. But to watch him be so attentive, so patient, and so accommodating of another girl, it made your chest hurt. 

There you were, sitting behind your desk with a smile, waiting to greet your boss but he’d barely glance at you, gliding past to his office without even a word. When you’d bring him coffee, he wouldn’t even look up, he’d just continue scribbling or typing on his computer. 

Sure, he was busy. 

Everyone was. 

But it wasn’t right for him to give you so much attention the first couple months and then take it all away like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing. Your sister said it hurts a lot for you because it’s your first love, and whilst you’re not sure that what you’re feeling for Suguru is love indeed, you still appreciate that you’re new to this whole thing. 

Why are men such mysteries?

How ever did Helen of Troy, or rather of Sparta, circumvent this maze?

The romance books you’ve read couldn’t give any insight. They all somehow follow the same pattern of ‘boy meets girl, they like each other, boy hurts girl, boy kisses girl, and girl forgives boy, and they live happily ever after’.

And pardon your French, but that just seems like utter lunacy!

Technically, Suguru hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s just doing his job. But he still hurt you and you can’t give in to his sweet words and pet names, no matter how they make you blush and press your thighs together.

So, after his messages insisting you have lunch together, you wait out at the front of the studio. It’s getting colder and you wish you had brought a thicker jacket, but you only have your sister’s hoodie. You hope she isn’t walking around town today otherwise she’ll rip it right off you. 

It’s only fair you take her jacket when she took your heels to go to a party, sneaking past your room like the little devil that she is. 

“Ready to go, pretty?”

There it is again. 

That smooth tone and heart-fluttering pet name. You’re blushing again when you turn to meet his eyes. He’s so tall, kind eyes smiling at you as he closes the door. He takes a quick sweep of your figure before he sighs and drapes a scarf over your shoulders, tying a knot so that your neck is all warm and cozy. 

Don’t fall for it!

You thank him and then step aside so he can lead the way. Both of you stroll through the neighbourhood, smiling at passersby and weaving around tourists who take up the entire pavement. Having watched a bunch of romance shows too, you’re painfully aware of the fact that he’s following the sidewalk rule, standing as a barrier between you and the road. 

It was a seamless move, done as if on autopilot, as if he’s simply the type to sacrifice himself. He’s a really good boss. Always choosing to stay overtime to finish up on paperwork instead of letting another member of staff handle it, taking the brunt of complaints and nasty customers, and his officer door’s always open for his employees. 

Except, of course, that one time when you had shut it so you could have a little…well, you don’t know what to call it. But whatever it was, it’s been stuck in your mind since then. And you can’t even count the number of times you’ve cum to the thought of it, to the feel of his hands on you. 

Thank goodness your sister’s out so often.

“The weather’s taking a turn for the worse, you should start wearing thicker clothes,” he advises. 

You tuck your chin into his scarf, smelling that familiar scent of musk and late nights, and the faintest hint of gasoline. When he glances down at you, you nod.

“Yeah, I will.”

Earlier in the week you had ran into your friend. She was frazzled over the lawsuit against the university and the ugly professor, hands frantically typing away and hair tied up haphazardly in her unofficial spot in the corner of the library, facing the south windows. 

You hesitated to talk to her in case she was really busy and would feel burned by a conversation, but when she saw you, she let out a genuine, but strained smile. The case had been taking a lot from her. You admire her so much. Always so hardworking, so easy to approach, and so eager to help, no matter what she’s going through. 

She pushed her laptop to the side and gestured for you to sit. And for half an hour straight, you complained about your problems with your boss. Looking back now, you can only cringe at the memory. How thoughtless of you. It’d be wise to avoid any pool of water, lest you fall into your own reflection. 

But she still took the time to hear you out and give advice.

“I don’t really know this Suguru person, but it does sound like he was genuinely busy. I think it’d be good to hear what he has to say and go from there.”

And of course that makes sense. It’s rational, logical, the kind of thinking a law student would have. Perhaps you should have gone to a drama student who would have told you to faint in front of him and pull at his heartstrings. 

Before you know it, you reach a cafe. 

Suguru lets you in first, placing a hand at your back to direct you to a table by the window. It’s a seat with a great view of a park, the leaves have turned various shades of orange and red, drifting downwards in spirals, descending with grace. 

You sit in front of him, unravelling the scarf and placing it on your lap. Oddly enough, as you both look over the menu, it doesn’t feel awkward like you had been expecting. 

It feels normal. 

Like you’ve done this a million times before. 

And it’s only once the server takes your orders, that you both look at each other. He’s still smiling both with his lips and his eyes, and it’s the kindest, most reassuring smile you’ve ever seen. The kind of smile you find yourself searching for in every stranger, only to come up empty-handed. 

But there’s something else there, resting on his features. The crinkles by his eyes are ever so slightly more visible, and the circles under them are just tiniest shade darker. Suguru’s really been worked to the bone recently. 

“Is the campus more chaotic than usual? With the protests and all.”

You shrug. “A little. People are really upset with Eden’s decision to only suspend Professor Mahito despite the mounting evidence against him.”

Suguru nods thoughtfully, accepting the drinks that the server brings over. You’ve opted for a hot chocolate and he’s drinking coffee. He doesn’t tease you over your order of extra whipped cream like your sister does.

“And you believe the accusations?”

“Of course!” You say that with a little more passion than intended, likely feeling offended he even needed to ask. You’re embarrassed but he doesn’t laugh at you, only lifts his cup to hide his amused smile.

He’s always smiling. 

But most times it never feels genuine. 

After a sip of his coffee, he adds, “I believe them too. Much of the pro-Mahito rhetoric centres around his work as a professor, but not much about his character. And if I may, my run-ins with him during my time were never particularly pleasant.”

You nod. “I just hope it all gets settled on. Everyone deserves peace.”

Something about what you said pleased him because then his smile is widening and he places his cup down and leans back in his chair. You know what this means; he’s going to get serious. 

The talk is going to happen now. 

“About my client,” you suck in a breath, “you think she was something more?”

Biting your lip, you consider your words very carefully. “I think you gave her special attention. One that you don’t give to any other client, not even celebrities.”

The food arrives and you glance up at him before taking a bite, wondering why he isn’t answering immediately. Is he considering his words carefully too? If he is, what does that mean for you? Is he doing it because he doesn’t want to hurt you or because he doesn’t want to let you in any more than he must to keep the peace?

Your mind is racing, and you chew without even really tasting your food. 

His finger taps against his fork, and then he drops his smile and sits up straight. 

“You’re right. She wasn’t just another client. She was special.”

A chill pierces your chest. It stuns you, rendering you frozen, forced to bathe in the words like a cold plunge. You want to throw up and run. But you’re pinned to your seat with his steely gaze. It’s insistence, urging you to listen. You can’t look away. Not when, even at the worst moment of the time you’ve had with him, he still looks so mesmerising, a marble statue carved only with the most ardour and the brightest hope for mankind. 

Suguru lets out a breath, perhaps relieved you haven’t left. At least he understands why you would. He owed you that much at least. 

“There are clients,” he begins with an authoritative tone as if his words are factual and you’re captivated by the musical cadence of his warmth, like he’s telling you a bedtime story, “who come, not with money but, with stories.”

You don’t really know where he’s going but you place your cutlery down and reach for your mug of hot chocolate like its searing heat could keep you grounded, keeps you tethered to the ground and protected from his lulling voice, a pied-piper amongst normal men. 

“They’ve been seen the darkness the world has to offer, ventured into places we can’t even fathom. And certainly, places I would never wish for you to have been.”

Something about his cautioning words compel you to nod.

When his fingertip touches yours and sends a tingle through your hand, following the veins, you realise he’s inched his hand closer, to feel yours, even just to feel the atoms breathe near other seems to calm him. Perhaps he needs tethering too.

“Riko was special -is- special. She’s a girl who’s been through a lot.”

You’re breathless, dazed from the feel of his skin. You want to pull away so you can have clarity of mind, but you can’t. “She’s been to those places?”

Suguru nods, a bitter flash crossing his features. 

“She was running from people who wanted to take from her. Who only ever saw her as a vessel and not as a person. And she’s come very far on her own. She wanted something to remind her of who she is. Not a little girl, not a vessel or a mere victim, but a survivor.”

Your lip trembles. 

The girl you had seen was so bright, she grinned with mischief and spoke with so much energy you felt invigorated just by listening, even when you didn’t want to. The extent of what she’s faced is something your mind just cannot venture to. And you’re wracked with guilt, it gnaws at your heart, squeezing in punishment. 

You might throw up for a whole different reason. 

This entire time you had been cursing her out in your head, feeling jealous of all the attention she was getting, but it never even occurred to you that she might have needed the attention, needed to feel normal and cared for, in the way you do. 

You lick your lips, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate there and force your features to lighten. “I understand. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Suguru doesn’t look convinced, and he opens his mouth to carry on but you only press your finger to his like one would boop a baby on the nose. It’s what your father does to you and your sister when you argue, an effective way of disorienting you enough to shut you up. 

It’s the first time you’ve ever done it but it works wonders because your boss only tilts his head and watches your hand do it again. His expression lightens too. 

There’s a renewed atmosphere to the table, like a veil had been lifted; you hadn’t realised just how heavy it all was until you’re grinning and spooning more food into your mouth. 

“She’s okay now, though?”

And when Suguru nods, you’re pleased with the answer. Truly.

Wherever Riko is, whatever she’s doing, you hope she’s safe. And above all, happy. And if she must return to Uzumaki for solace, for protection, for friendship, you swear there and then, you’d welcome her with open arms. 

“Did you hear about Gojo’s fiancee?” 

Suguru laughs, images of his best friend’s faces flashing in his eyes. “Have I ever? Satoru hasn’t stopped complaining. He spams me day in and day out, sends a bunch of voicemails to both my personal and work phones, and when I wouldn’t answer, he’s been showing up at work.”

You’re giggling. “I know! Nowadays he just walks in and groans at me that you’ve abandoned in his ‘time of need’, whatever that means.”

There’s a softness in his tone, even as he makes fun of his friend, and you feel its embrace when he admits, “Satoru’s always been very dramatic, but he’ll be fine.”

“My sister says his fiancee’s like the complete opposite of him, appearance-wise. Something about being goth?”

“I’ve met her,” he smirks when you gasp. “Don’t look so surprised. You forget I was once a student at Eden. She and I were classmates. And she’s going to him a run for his money.”

The conversation continues with laughter, a feather-like lightness carrying you both along. For two hours, even well after both of your plates are empty, you chat. You update him on what you’ve been up to for the past week, rambling about the most mundane things like they were a crisis and he nods along, never once interrupting, as if content to sit there for however long and listen. 

And when you walk back to the studio, there isn’t a moment of silence. Not even when both of you have stopped talking. 

This is perhaps the only time since you began working at Uzumaki that you’ve spoken, not as boss and employee, and not even as two people with an inexplicable tension of the sexual kind. But rather as friends. 

It felt good. 

To know where you stand with someone. 

Sitting back down behind your desk and watching Suguru flash you another smile before he retreats into his office, you reach a conclusion. 

Friendship is good for you and him. 

You need it before anything else. 

And those are the terms he’ll have to agree with.

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

ceo!sukuna x secretary!reader, modern au

tags: degradation, daddy kink, videocall-sex, dirty talk, masturbation, sexting notes: minors dni, one sequel to "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘉𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘴𝘴" - you decided to text your boss Sukuna wc: 1.7k

Finally you arrived home, your steps heavy with exhaustion yet tinged with relief. With each passing moment, the weight of responsibility seemed to lift as you approached your doorstep. Unlocking the door, you stepped into the comforting embrace of your sanctuary, where the warmth and familiarity of your home enveloped you like a soft blanket. Sighing deeply, you kicked off your shoes and let the tension of the day melt away. Settling into your favorite armchair, you closed your eyes, letting the tranquility of home wash over you, yet you were restless.

Your fingers reached into the pocket of your coat to pull out the cigarette Sukuna gave you, his number written on it. “Hm…”, you took off your coat, letting it fall next to you on the ground. “Should I really?” Flashes of the previous event came rushing back into your mind – the way his fingers wrapped around your neck and his hot tongue pushing into your mouth. That kiss alone made you incredibly wet.

You saved his number under “Boss (Private)” and stared at the texting icon. It would be so easy and besides, it's just a text. He couldn’t fuck you over phone anyway.

Hello, this is y/n.

Eager little girl. Texted me as soon as you came home?

Dumbfounded, your eyes analyzed his (instant) reply. 

Don’t worry, princess. Not judging you. Bet your pussy is still wet. My cock didn’t go soft either.

Excuse me? This is highly unprofessional.

No, me fucking you bend over your workdesk would be highly unprofessional. Answer me: Is your pussy still wet, little one?

You should've known that it would end up like this. You shouldn’t reply. You should tell him that this is inappropriate. Remind him that you are his secretary and some may deem this interaction as unethical and not to forget that you are years younger than him. Why was it so hard to stop though?

Yes, Mr. Sukuna.

From now on you call me daddy.

Yes, daddy.

The sudden ring of your phone shattered the atmosphere. Surprised, you glanced at the screen to see a Facetime call flashing urgently. Sukuna was calling you. The surprise sent a jolt of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire within you. nervous anticipation fluttered in her chest like a caged bird. For a moment, uncertainty swirling in your mind. With a deep breath, you accepted the call, your heart pounding in your ears. The familiar face that greeted you was enough to send a surge of desire coursing through your body. Despite your nerves, the thrill of your virtual connection stirred something primal within you, heightening your senses and leaving you longing for more.

“Wish you could see your face right now. You look like a needy slut, princess”, Sukuna snickered. His shirt was unbuttoned all the way, exposing his upper-body. Your eyes widened in shock as you saw it. He had–

“Like my tattoos, huh?”

“I-I just didn’t know that you had any.”

Smirking his finger traced the black lines across his chest. His phone was probably leaning against something cause you could see almost everything up to his knees. Even the way he was sitting, his legs spread and a hand wide on his thigh, screamed dominance and sent shivers down your spine.

“Wanna see more of you, baby, put your phone somewhere. I need to see your face and what’s between your legs. Can you do that for daddy?”

Every bit of self-control and resistance left your body as soon as he called himself daddy. It’s no wonder that every woman and man wanted him buried deep inside their guts.

“Yes, daddy”, a simple good girl fell from his lips as he watched you propping your phone on the table in front of you against a water bottle. “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect, princess. You’re such a good slut for daddy, aren’t you”, Sukuna’s hand, which was previously on his thigh, was now on his crotch, grabbing onto his hard on, “Undress, baby girl.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. With a subtle yet deliberate motion, you reached behind your back, fingers deftly finding the tiny buttons that held your blouse together. With each successive button undone, the fabric began to loosen, revealing tantalizing glimpses of the soft skin beneath. As you slipped the blouse and bra off your shoulders, a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine, the cool air caressing your exposed flesh. In that moment, you felt an exhilarating rush of vulnerability, a silent declaration of self-assurance and desire. You weren’t going to stop now so you silently took your skirt off, wiggling it off your hips. The only thing you were wearing now was your thong.  And Sukuna’s eyes were sitting on you the whole time, taking in every little detail. Your trembling hands, your moles and freckles, everything.He could feel himself almost bursting through his pants. At first he wanted to make you beg to see his cock but he was hard ever since you crawled over to him. Swiftly he unzipped his pants, just to give his cock a bit more space.

"Obedient little slut. Look at you, just taking your clothes off, obeying my words. Makes me want to ruin you even more, little one.”

The plan to forever reject him and never succumb to him was already forgotten. How could you ever reject him when he gets your pussy this wet?

“...I’m your slut, daddy”, it was a mere whisper but Sukuna heard every word.

Growling he pulled his cock out of his boxers. It was massive. Sukuna spit in his hand before he wrapped his rough hand around his shaft. Your eyes felt like they were bulging out of your sockets. His cock would destroy you, fill you up completely and turn you into a whimpering bitch in heat. YOu were certain of that.

“Come on, princess. Spread your legs for daddy, show me how wet your pretty pussy is”. His filthy mouth had you stifling a moan as you lifted one leg to rest against the back cushions of the chair and spread the other so that your foot rested on the floor. 

“Li-like this, daddy?” God, this was embarrassing and extremely hot at the same time. 

“Yes, baby, just like this”, he stroked his cock from tip to base, the other hand now palming his balls. “Now lick your fingers and rub that clit for daddy. Bet you wanted me to do that back at the bar, huh?”

You did as instructed, dragging the tips of your index and middle fingers across your tongue slowly before lowering them to your pussy, seeking your clit. Instantly your legs began to twitch – he was right, you wanted this all along.

“That’s it, little one. Fuck, imagine it being my tongue. I should’ve played with that sweet cunt after you crawled to my feet like the dirty slut you are.”

Breathy moans filled the air around you, your pussy clenching, yearning for something big to stuff it.

“Daddy…fuck, daddy”, Sukuna was still stroking his cock as he took in the alluring sight on his phone, “G-good…feels so good, Daddy.”

“Look at my cock, baby. I’m imagining that cute mouth wrapped around my fat dick. Like that, slut?”

“Yes, daddy, yes. I love it, daddy.”

His hand twisted around his tip, pre-cum leaking already. “Squeeze your tits, pinch your nipple,” he growled.  “That’s my fuckin’ teeth, slut. I can see your naughty pussy clenching through the screen. You need something in there, right? I should be pounding into that cunt, take what’s mine.”

“Please”, you started to beg, primal urges taking over you, “Please let me put a finger in, daddy.”

“Shove those fingers inside.  As many as you can fit. Tough it would never compare to me pushing my dick in that tight cunt of yours. You think you can take this cock, huh?”

Finally you pushed your fingers inside. Your pussy was wet enough that your fingers met no resistance at all. “Y-yours…yours is too big. Would break me.”

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy. My cock would fucking break you, fuck you real good, make you my personal fucktoy. Look at me, slut!”

Sukuna was pumping his dick to the same speed as you were fingering your cunt. This was driving you insane. He demanded you to pick up the speed, both of you did.

“Keep fuckin’ that pussy.  Yeah, just like that.  Go faster.  Use your other hand – rub that clit again. Tell daddy how much you want his cock.”

“Want–Want daddy’s cock…I want daddy to–to fuck my slutty little pussy, please. Need daddy’s cock.”

Sukuna could feel his climax coming, his balls pulsating, something building up inside him. If only you were in front of him, begging for him to ram into you and choke you while you whimpered and cried for sweet, sweet release.

“How far are you, princess?”

You couldn’t reply with words, only strangled cries as you climbed higher.  You hooked your fingers to drag across your g-spot, fucking yourself so hard that the squelching sounds could probably be heard from beyond the door.  Your cunt contracted around my fingers once, hard.  “Ahh…cl–close, daddy.”

“Shit, me too,” he groaned.  “Fucking look at me when you cum, slut.”   Sukuna started stroking his cock faster and faster while he continued to massage his balls.  You swirled faster and harder as you pumped your fingers in and out of your wet cunt.  

“Oh fuck daddy!” you cried, rolling your eyes back to his face as you felt your muscles tense. 

“Good girl,” he breathed, looking directly into your eyes.  “Cum for me. Do it.”

And, then the tension and pressure released all at once, making you scream “daddy” as the waves rippled through your body.  Your cunt clenched your fingers rhythmically and you continued to finger yourself through the aftershocks.  

“Fuck – shit, here it comes!” Sukuna moaned seconds before thick white ropes of his cum spurted from his cock to land on his stomach as he bucked up into his hand roughly.  “Fucking finally.”

Moments later you were still panting as Sukuna gave you one last order before ending the call.

“Don’t wear any underwear tomorrow at work and come in early.”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

could u pls write a fic about a plus sized reader noticing Spencer doesnt look at her alot so one morning she wears lingerie and a see through robe and she teases him until he just takes her on the couch?

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: listen, it wasn't that you didn't love the domestic life with spencer, but god, you just really missed being touched (and penelope has a solution).

— warnings: uhh this is almost 3k of pwp firstly, penelope being the best wingwoman to ever exist, lingerie, teasing, unprotected sex, couch sex, vaginal sex, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, kind of switch spencer and reader at the end, riding, heavy petting, subspace if you squint, mentions of oral sex (m and f rec), the reader is lowkey a freak (and penelope instigates it), clothed sex, the reader is dressed and spencer isn't, i held myself back from including a mommy kink, but that's the best you're getting from me, a lack of foreplay (be considerate folks), consent kink, praise kink.

— wc: 2817

⋆ a/n: HEY SO i really let this get away from me in the sense of this was meant to kind of be dom!spencer but i blinked and all of a 2k was written of sub!spencer so yikes!! but i really enjoyed writing this, it's been literally forever since i've written pwp so... here ya go!! i'm trying to be more organized with uploading because i really want to clear out my drafts before starting any new projects.

masterlist | AO3

“Pen, have you ever seen those TikToks where it’s like ‘he has a whole woman in his bed yet he’s playing World of Warcraft’ or some shit like that?” You ask the phone that’s tucked under your chin.

You’re in the middle of putting up laundry, but a feeling of unrest bubbled beneath your skin.

Penelope laughs, “And let me guess, that’s how you feel right now?” 

You sigh, looking down at the shirt that refuses to turn inside out. You throw it back in the hamper with a huff before grabbing a pair of – Spencer’s – jeans.

“I just – I’m not with Spencer for just sex, you know that, but it’s been like… forever since I’ve gotten any.” You can’t even listen to yourself talk.

“We’ve been in this like… domestic bliss stage, and while I love waking up to breakfast in bed and giggly showers, I’m horny and every time he does something so normal – something that shouldn’t even be considered sexy – I have to hold myself back from jumping his bones.” 

Penelope lets out a rather unattractive chortle, but she continues. “Listen sister, while I love the Boy Genius as much as the next person, he’s kinda dense. With all those brains, he’s rather hard-headed when it comes to romance.”

“I know, I know, and those are one of the reasons why I love him! The denseness is cute, but I’m starting to think I sabotaged myself.” You look down longingly at the MIT t-shirt. Spencer was away at the office right now, so that means whatever conversation you were having with the colorful woman on the other end was completely inappropriate.

“You know what I think?” She starts. “Oh God.” You sigh fondly. “Oh, hush! Don’t even act like my ideas aren’t good! Anyway… If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being quite the seductress myself, is that at the end of the day a man is a man, and they can be reduced down to their most primal instincts.”

“What are you saying?” You inquire curiously with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m saying that you gotta work with what ya mama gave ya! Men are dumb, they see a tit or a nice ass and they lose all cognitive function. So what I’m saying is to put on some lingerie and act like a little minx! Guys love it when you tease them and act like you don’t know what you’re doing! It’s about the chase, my fellow curvaceous protege.”

“So you’re saying to… seduce him?”  

“That’s exactly what I’m saying – Oh! Good morning sir! Yes, sorry, I’ll call you back when I’ve got the answer to what you need… yes okay bye-bye!” And with that, you’re left listening to the silence. 

You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation before taking a seat on the bed.

Seduce him, huh? The notion almost seems ridiculous, but it really isn’t that far fetched. You’ve had sex with Spencer before, you know how his brain works, what gets him needy and what parts of you turn him on. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

You don’t really own any lingerie, because for one, the material that’s supposedly the back of your underwear gets swallowed by your ass, and two, Spencer’s never complained about your granny panties. But hey, it doesn’t hurt to look right?

Okay, seduce Spencer Reid is a go.

Taking one last scrutinizing look in the bathroom mirror, you leave quietly, walking into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of coffee. Liquid courage as they say.

The light pink sheer robe hangs off of your ample form, the fuzz on the edge of your sleeves getting in your way and irritating you. God, if this doesn’t work, a woman by the name of Penelope Garcia is going to find herself six feet underground.

Spencer sat on the couch slipping his feet into a pair of mismatched socks – you’ve stopped trying to organize them a while ago – tucking them into his converse. He’s off today, probably having plans with the bookstore and the park before offering to make the both of you dinner. It’s endearing to say the least, but food is not something you're hungry for.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” You ask before taking a sip of your coffee. He hasn’t looked up, but you’re facing him now, your scantily clad body exposed by the thin satin of your white bra and underwear. A devil in disguise (you hope).

“Hmm, I was thinking about playing chess in the park for an hour or two before going to the bookstore. A new novel about quantum physics just came out, and even though it’ll probably be about stuff I already know, I’m always willing to look at it from a different perspec…” Spencer finally looked up, his sentence slurring a bit. “...tive.”

“Ah! That sounds exciting! I’ll text you what I want for dinner later if that’s okay? Or would you rather I go shopping with you?”

He blinks, his mouth hanging open intelligently, as though he’s still trying to process exactly what he’s seeing. “Yes. I mean no - I mean… I… what are you wearing?”

You spare a lazy look down, as though you had forgotten you even had the thing on.

“Oh this? It’s just really hot in the apartment today. So make sure you bring some sunscreen and a fan, yeah? Don’t want you getting a sunburn or having a heat stroke.”

“I - I’ve never seen that set before, is it new?” He stammers. You click your tongue as if you genuinely had to date the outfit back, when in reality the tags to the set itself sits pretty in the bathroom trash can. “I have no idea honestly, it looked comfortable though, so I just slipped it on. You don’t mind, right?”

“I… no. I don’t.”

You beam at him, “Perfect. Oh! Let me make you some coffee before you go, I know how hard it is for you to start your day without it.” 

You turn back around, and you could hear Spencer fruitlessly swallow a gasp. The back of your underwear might as well have been a piece of string, because your ass cheeks were basically eating the material. It was uncomfortable, but oh well, beauty is pain.

You smirk in victory, pulling out a medium sized thermos and pouring the rest of the liquid in it.

You didn’t hear him move, let alone walk behind you, but two large hands placed themselves respectively on your hips, the man tucking his face in the side of your neck. You shiver at the hot blow of air that escapes through his nose, and his grip on your skin turns a little tighter.

“What are you doing?” The question is mumbled, but you don’t miss it. “What does it look like? I’m making you coffee, silly.” He huffs. “No. I mean what are you doing to me?”

He presses forward, pushing his half hard cock between your cheeks. It was your turn to gasp, and you couldn’t help but put down the pot of coffee, pushing the now full thermos away to avoid any future hazards. 

You hold on to the edge of the counter, tilting your head further to the side to give the needy man more access. He takes the hint, peppering sweet, heated kisses on the sensitive skin of your throat. You shiver once more, sighing out a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You know lying is useless, especially with the way your voice sounded so breathless. “You know you’re a terrible liar.” It was a playful dig, and his palms had begun to move, pushing on your full stomach to put more of your weight on him.

“Hm, but you don’t know every single thing I have in the closet, now do you?” You remark, yelping when he nipped at your earlobe. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong and you know it.” You do. “Do I?”

“This is terrible foreplay.” He jokes and you giggle. “I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?” You push your hips back and add a bit of friction onto his cock. He groans and you feel your pussy pulse.

“You always do a good job.” Spencer murmurs.

You’re turned around so you can face him, and you wish you could take a picture to savor the look on his face. He’s beet red, cheeks and ears flushed a beautiful hue that leaves a twinge of pride pooling in your stomach.

He cups your face, drawing you in for a long awaited kiss. 

You sigh into him, hands twisting at the sleeves of his cardigan to pull him closer. He lets you in exchange of pushing you against the counter until your lower back is digging uncomfortably into the marble.

“Where do you wanna go?” He finally breathes. You stare at him as if you were in a daze before processing his question with a blink. “Couch?” You ask. “Whatever you want.” He says before joining your lips together once more.

He walks the both of you backwards slowly, and he takes advantage of when your mouth parts in a moan as he flicks his tongue against the top of your lip. He tastes like toothpaste and you might be a little crazy to think that it makes him way sexier than it should.

Your eyes flutter open and you push him away with hands on his chest gently.

“Do you trust me?” You gasp.

“Of course.”

“Good.” You say with a smirk.

You make sure he’s close enough to the edge of the couch when you push him on it, quickly clambering onto his lap and settling your hands on his shoulders; his fall naturally to your waist and you grin.

“Hi.” You whisper quietly. “Hey.” He responds back just as hushed. “You can grab my ass, you know.” You tease and his eyes widen just slightly. “I…” You guide his palms to hold the meat of your ass and he grips.

“God.” It tumbles from his lips in a whimper and you fucking melt. 

“Sorry I’ve been such a tease today, Spencie.” You say sweetly with a fake pout. “I just needed you so bad and you’ve been so, so sweet to me, my sweet boy. I didn’t want to ruin it by asking you to fuck me stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined it.” He corrects with a whine. You had begun to grind down on him and he gripped you tightly, helping you rut against him. “No?” You question. He shakes his head quickly, his hair bouncing along with the swings.

“No. ‘Would’ve done anything you asked.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“So, if I asked you to let me suck your dick until I’ve sucked the soul out of you, would you have let me? How about if I asked you to eat my pussy for breakfast, huh? Would you have done it?”

“Yes, yes, God yes! I want to… I wanna do all those things so badly.” He groans, all but pawing at you now. 

“I bet you do,” You coo. “I guess I haven’t been the only one pent up. But that’s okay, because I’ve got you, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss before traveling downwards to his belt and wrangling it open. You popped open the buttons of his jeans, sliding back so you can tug them down his legs. 

“Up.” You command softly and he obliges. 

You’re faced with his hardened cock bulging from under his black underwear.

“Oh… is this for me?” You know you’re being mean when you drag your fingertips over the spot where precum has begun to pool, only putting slight pressure on it just to hear that sweet sound of his breath hitching.

“Yes – it’s all for you.” Spencer whines and throws his head back against the couch. “All for me? My goodness…” You trail off as you drag his underwear down his thighs. His cock springs up and bobbles against his clothed stomach.

“Can I –” He licks his lips, “Can I take my shirt off?”

“Of course, my love.” You were just about to ask him anyway.

As he rids himself of his top you get up for a split second to take his pants and underwear off fully. As you go to undress yourself, he stops you.

“W— wait… keep it on please.” 

“Oh? You wanna be nasty and pull my panties to the side, huh? Dirty dirty boy.” You tisk, but in reality you feel like you’re about to explode. “Is that okay?” You smile at his question. “More than okay.”

You climb back on top of him, doing exactly what you said and pulling the white satin to the side before gripping his dick, lining it up to your entrance. He holds you steady looking up at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes as you sink down.

The stretch stings because of the lack of foreplay, but you can’t find it within yourself to care as the pain shoots up your lower back and is already fraying at your pleasure filled nerves. 

“So… so good. God.” Spencer chokes. 

Your lips are rolled between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You heave out a breath when he sinks down to the hilt, and he just rubs soothing circles on your hips. The feeling helps to guide you as you loosen up, and when you do, you give him an experimental clench.

He groans of course and you smirk lazily.

“‘Gonna ride you now, ‘kay?” You murmur as you lift your hips up before slamming down. Spencer practically shouts when he re-enters you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He’s a whimpering, cursing mess. “That feels good, baby?” You ask as you bounce. Spencer nods and fondness twists in your chest.

“You’re so tight. I think ‘m gonna pass out.” He says dramatically. You laugh, grabbing his hands and slipping them under your bra so they can cover your breasts. “Well, don’t pass out until we’ve cum, alright?”

He gives your breasts a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.” He huffs and you giggle again. The giggles die out though when you shift and his tip prods just right.

“Oh shit.” You curse but remain in the same place.

You ride him in abandon, the sound of skin meeting skin radiating out into the early morning air of the apartment. The sound is nasty and wet and it causes your head to swim. The buzz of mind numbing pleasure swims around in your gut, and you can almost grasp it.

“Spence I – I need more, can you…?” You moan out, your head tilting back. “Yeah, yeah, I got you, sweetheart.”

One hand leaves to rub furiously at your clit and your hips cant forward, sending you landing on his naked, sweat slicked chest. Your thighs burn and you rest for a moment, but Spencer doesn’t seem to match the same sentiment, because the other hand holds you by your hip in a grip that’s almost bruising. 

The fat is spilling through his fingers but he uses it as leverage as he now fucks up into you. You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck and tucking his face into yours. You mark him mindlessly, body trembling as you near your orgasm.

You can feel him twitch inside of you when he sets a pace, bringing you up and down in a way that indicates he’s nearing an end of his own.

“Together, okay?” You cry out, “‘Wanna cum together.”

“Okay, honey, okay.” 

He sets his feet on the floor and rubs harder at your sensitive bud, and the arousal that implodes inside of you is so blinding that you white out for a minute. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed, and you can hear him mewling into your ear before warmth paints your womb.

It’s silent in the apartment for a moment before you speak.

“I have to tell you a secret.” You whisper mindlessly, laying your cheek on a bony shoulder. “And what’s that?” He runs his fingers up and down your spine.

“This set is new.”

“I know honey, I saw the charge on my card.”

“What?!” You exclaim, pulling away from his body to search his hazy eyes with your wide ones.

“You forget I can see the bank statements.” Spencer says with a smile. “No, no. I – I didn’t mean to use your card.”

“You didn’t have to… I may have uh… may have slipped one into your wallet when you weren’t looking.” He admits sheepishly. You stare at a moment and then smile incredulously. “Did you… secretly sugar daddy me?”

“Oh God, please don’t call it that.” He says with a groan, leaning forward to bury his face in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever sugar daddy.” You tease, running your fingers through his sweaty locks.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[rafecameronssl4t]

(for DCC!reader) Can you do something inspired by that moment in the last chapter of the documentary, where someone inappropriately touches a cheerleader? If the same thing had happened to reader, how would Rafe act? 💌

In the spotlight || nfl player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reaader

A/n: that ep made me so sad for Sophy :( she deserved so so much better

Warnings: mentions of SA, swearing if theres anything else lmk

Word count: 1,408

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“And my phone—” Kelli starts, but Judy interrupts her, her tone urgent and filled with concern. “Somebody’s inappropriately touched Y/N, and she’s in the hallway talking to a policeman.”

Kelli freezes, absorbing the shocking news, her mind racing with a hundred thoughts. “They told me to let you know. She’s right here in the hallway,” Judy continues, her voice steady but insistent.

“Who?” Kelli asks, her heart pounding. “Y/n—” “No, who?” Kelli interrupts, her voice sharper now. “A cameraman inappropriately touched her. She’s identifying him and giving a statement to the police right here in the hallway,” Judy explains, her words rapid but clear.

Kelli immediately gets up from her seat, her legs moving before her mind fully registers the action. “Does Coach know?” she asks as they walk swiftly toward the hallway.

“Yes, he does,” Judy assures her. Kelli exhales deeply, trying to steady her nerves. As they reach the hallway, another woman approaches Kelli. “Y/n just went back out to dance,” she informs, her eyes darting toward the policeman escorting a cameraman. Kelli’s eyes narrow as she immediately assumes it was him.

“She said that while they were walking back out to start the third quarter, he touched her inappropriately. She gave her statement to the police,” the woman continues. Kelli nods, her concern for Y/N’s well-being etched on her face.

“So they’re talking to him. She asked to press charges.” “They’re what?” Kelli asks loudly, straining to hear over the loudness of the stadium. “Y/n asked the police that she wants to press charges,” the woman repeats firmly.

“She does?” “She does, so she’s back out doing her dance for the third quarter,” the woman confirms as Kelli turns to Judy, her expression troubled. “She probably shouldn’t be dancing if she’s really upset.” A policeman approaches them, looking serious. “Are we 100% sure that was him?” he asks. The woman nods. “She pointed to him and said that was him.”

“Then we need to pull her. She doesn’t need to be dancing. I’ll grab her,” Kelli says firmly, She strides out onto the field, her eyes scanning for you among the cheerleaders.

Kelli walks along the sidelines, her eyes scanning the cheerleaders until she spots you dancing. She can immediately tell from your expression that you’re visibly uncomfortable, even though you’re trying to mask it with a practiced smile. Kelli’s heart aches for you, the worry gnawing at her insides.

Kelli has always taken pride in ensuring the girls’ safety on the team, and when things like this happen, she feels as though she has failed you. Her protective instincts kick into high gear as she moves closer, watching you intently.

As the dance finishes, Kelli is quick to walk up to you, wrapping a secure arm around your shoulder. She pulls you slightly away from the other girls, her presence a comforting shield. You lean down to hear what she is saying. “I’m gonna take you inside, sweetheart. The police wanna talk to you,” Kelli’s voice is calm and steady, trying to soothe you. You nod, grateful for her support.

“Are you okay?” Kelli asks as the two of you make it inside the hallways where it is quieter. “Yeah, I’m fine. It was more that I was taken off guard, and I’m still kinda shaking from it,” you reply, a tear sliding down your cheek. Kelli wipes it away gently, her touch reassuring.

“Okay, well, I’ll grab you a jacket—” Kelli’s cut off by the sound of Coach Johnson’s voice. “Y/N!” he calls out as you turn your head to see your dad moving past people to get to you.

“Dad—” your voice is cut off as he engulfs you in a tight hug. And that was when all the tears finally came out. The overwhelming emotions you had been holding back burst forth. It was all such a blur when it happened. You were just doing what you always did, walking into formation when you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist.

You were very shaken up; you didn’t know how you managed to continue performing without breaking down. “I heard what happened, are you okay?” your dad asks in concern as he strokes your hair, kissing the crown of your head as you let the tears roll down your face.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay, I think. I’m just so shaken up still,” you manage to say, squeezing your dad tighter as he sighs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”“Don’t apologize, you’re here now,” you say, pulling back as he kisses your forehead.

“Here, here’s some water,” Kelli comes up with a water bottle as you gratefully take it from her. “The police are in there waiting for you,” she gently says as you nod, taking a deep breath as your dad tucks stray pieces of hair behind your ears before you walk back into the room.

“Coach!” Both Kelli and your dad turn their heads to see Rafe running down the hallway.

~

“Yo, what the fuck’s going on over there?” Chris taps Rafe on the shoulder, pointing towards you, engaged in a tense conversation with a policeman The grand arena is buzzing with game day excitement, but you look visibly shaken, your usual confident demeanor replaced by an unmistakable distress.

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, confusion and concern etched onto his face as he scans the scene. “I don’t know,” he mutters, distracted by the sound of the whistle signaling the continuation of the game.

But Rafe’s mind is not on the game at all. His eyes constantly dart towards where you stand, the unease growing within him. He watches intently as Kelli approaches you, leading you back inside the stadium corridors.

Rafe’s worry intensifies, his need to know what the fuck is going on becoming unbearable. A few minutes later, he notices Coach Johnson, your dad, rushing off the field with an urgency that confirms Rafe’s worst fears.

Determined to find out what’s happening, Rafe breaks numerous rules by swapping places with his teammate, assuring him he’ll take the blame for the unauthorized switch. Without a second thought, Rafe sprints off the field, heading towards the hallways in search of you.

~

“Rafe, what are you doing here?” your dad asks, his voice tinged with both surprise and concern as he sees Rafe enter the inner corridors of the stadium.

“I swapped with Justin. Where’s Y/n? Is she okay?” Rafe’s voice is laced with anxiety. Coach Johnson, momentarily overlooking the rule-breaking, focuses on the more pressing issue at hand. “She’s talking with the police right now, Rafe.” He sighs deeply as Rafe’s face falls. “What happened?”

“A cameraman touched her inappropriately out there—” “What?” Rafe’s voice rises, anger surging through him at the thought of anyone laying a hand on you. “Are you fucking serious?” He moves to charge past Coach Johnson, but is quickly restrained by both him and Kelli.

“Whoa, whoa, Rafe. Let’s think before we do anything stupid, yeah?” your dad says, his tone calm but firm, attempting to ground Rafe’s escalating fury. Rafe is breathing heavily, his eyes locked on the door to the room where you are.

“Listen, why don’t you wait here until Y/n gets out. I’m sure she’ll appreciate you being out here for her,” Kelli suggests, placing a reassuring hand on Rafe’s shoulder. He looks at her, his anger slowly giving way to concern.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do that,” Rafe says, swallowing hard as Coach Johnson pats his back in approval. “Good man,” your dad says, his voice filled with gratitude for Rafe’s loyalty and concern. As Rafe waits anxiously, the bustling sounds of the stadium seem to fade away, his entire focus on making sure you’re okay.

As Rafe waits anxiously, the bustling sounds of the stadium seem to fade away, his entire focus on making sure you’re okay. Moments later, the door to the room where you had been giving your statement to the police opens. You step out, your eyes red and teary, your face etched with the strain of holding back emotions.

Rafe doesn’t hesitate. He strides forward and immediately engulfs you in a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you as if to shield you from any more harm. He couldn’t care less if anyone saw the two of you and took pictures of it. You collapse into his embrace, the tears you’ve been holding back now freely flowing.

[newtkive]

shift shenanigans - s1 social media au

note: jus for fun ! may or may not do more parts.

warnings: crude humor, slightly offensive jokes from richie sry

part two

liked by syd_adamu, marcus.brooks11 and 30 others

chefboyardee: my friends! i love my friends! the two on the right more than the left (i’m joking i promise) 😁😁😁😁

see all 8 comments

syd_adamu: brave of you to call him your friend y/n

↳ chefboyardee: boss man carmy save me

↳ syd_adamu: oh.. :///

marcus.brooks11: you did me so dirty, friend.

↳ chefboyardee: love you marcus you look spectacular

↳ marcus.brooks11: don’t start

richietheking: Where am I?

↳ chefboyardee: ya motha

liked by syd_adamu, chefboyardee and 10 others

richietheking: Getting sh$!t done.

see all 8 comments

marcus.brooks11: This is coolllddd.

↳ richietheking: You already know it man.

syd_adamu: this is actually crazy

carmyberzatto: can you show this on instagram? i think you should delete this.

↳ richietheking: Delete your life.

chefboyardee: come down to the beef for a number 6 the occy way 💯 the safest joint on the block 🤑💯we are 🔛🔝

↳ richietheking: Eyyy I know that’s right.

↳ carmyberzatto: please don’t advertise this.

WE HAVE THE BEEF 🥩

[ 8:25 am ]

y/n:

bruh im about to lose it. heads up when you guys get to work.

marcus: that catering order is about to be crazy

DO NOT REPLY: These white boards are stressing me out.

syd: we know, probably giving you ptsd from not finishing high school

DO NOT REPLY: Fuck you I did finish it.

y/n: oh i gotta change ur contact name richie

richie poo: ????? What

y/n: it was ‘DO NOT REPLY’ lols

marcus: valid

syd: real

richie poo: What? Why?! That’s so rude

y/n: cuz you piss me off

and you kept blowing up my phone yesterday

richie poo: You weren’t answering, and we needed help at the cook out.

syd: the one where you poisoned everyone?

richie poo: Fuck off.

y/n: when i’m off work, i’m off work.

marcus: don’t let carmy hear that, y/n

y/n: don’t remind me

syd: he’s trying at least, go easy on him. he really has great ideas

richie poo: You mean you have great ideas in that little notebook

tina: Never trust a broad with a notebook.

syd: hey! i’m just being helpful

y/n: do you guys think my ig post will hurt carmys feelings

marcus: it would make me a little sad if i were him, but i don’t think he cares

y/n: great i’m gonna cry now

syd: i doubt he even saw it y/n it’s fine

richie poo: Check the work chat. Cousin is in a mood.

y/n: oh great

tina: Help us all.

syd: be nice you guys

WORK

[ 9:15 am ]

carmy: Everyone, we have huge catering orders tomorrow to prep for today. Please get here as soon as you can, the earlier you clock in the better. Additionally, please be careful what you post on social media. I don’t want people to get the wrong impression

y/n: yes chef 👨‍🍳

syd: ok sounds good

richie poo: Cool it, Cousin. What’s the issue with the social media

tina: I use FaceBook. That not allowed now??

carmy: Tina, you’re fine. I’m talking about those who post work things on public accounts

marcus: facebook is crazy

richie poo: I can’t go private

y/n: he needs the likes

richie poo: No I’m disabled from doing so. Not sure why

y/n: liar

richie poo: 😑I don’t like you

carmy: Then please don’t post pics of yourself posting up with a gun and an air horn outside of my shop anymore.

marcus: that pic was fire can’t lie

carmy: Well, it’s bad for business.

richie poo: Fine, whatever

y/n: carmy

carmy: What, Y/n?

y/n: is this because of my caption on my post i’m sorry i promise i wasn’t being for real

carmy: I don’t care Y/n.

y/n: is that code for ‘i care a lot and i’m crying in the office right now and that’s why the door is closed’

oh

syd: ? why the oh

y/n: he opened the door and yelled no 🤨 but i think i saw red eyes

carmy: Please get back to work and I’ll comp a meal for you later

y/n: OMG yes chef 😍

richie poo: Inappropriate emojis and you shouldn’t have to incentivize her to work

y/n: shut up acting like HR i’m gonna beat your ass

jealousy is ugly which is why you have that mug on your face

carmy: Stop

y/n: yes chef 👨‍🍳

i heard your giggle tho

richie poo: Again with the schizo episode

syd: you can’t say that richie

richie poo: Oh sorry

[dollfacefantasy]

Some Extra Lessons

pairing: professor!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: professor kennedy’s got it bad for one of his students. little does he know, you feel the same way for him.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, thigh riding, fingering, edging, age gap (36/college aged), teacher/student, daddy kink, sir kink, praise/degradation

word count: 7k

a/n: hey everybody. hope everyone had nice holidays if you celebrate them. and happy new year! i'm not sure how i feel about this one but eh. i got things cooking so stay tuned 🫵. as always, thank you for your comments and reblogs. smooches <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

Mondays and Wednesdays. Those are fast becoming Leon’s two favorite days of the week. For most people, they’re probably the worst days. The first day back to work, and the other right in the middle of the week; when they’ve already had enough but it feels like the weekend is still years away. But not for Leon. Not anymore. Those days are now sacred to him because they are the days he gets to see you.

You’re his favorite student this semester by far, no one else even comes close. He noticed you early on in the beginning weeks, quiet but attentive. You would sit off to the side by yourself, always taking notes or scanning what was on the board.

It made him feel like such a perv when he first noticed his own lingering gazes and heart palpitations when you walked in the room. He tried to justify it. It wasn’t everyday he had someone like you sitting a few rows away from him, hanging on every word he said.

He’s only human, he tried reasoning. He couldn’t help but always notice the cute little outfits you wore to class, teasing just enough of your body to keep him ogling you for more. You did your hair in pretty styles and coated your pouty lips in shimmery gloss. He had to force his eyes to move around the room to other students when he spoke. His natural instinct was to keep them locked on you while his head filled with images of his hands squeezing those cute tits or his cock sliding between your shiny lips.

Despite those fantasies, he left you alone. It was wrong, inappropriate, he told himself. He shouldn’t be lusting after his student, let alone pursuing her. You were just a sweet girl trying to get an education. He couldn’t let his perversions interfere with that.

But as the weeks passed and more classes went by, he got to know you. You seemed pretty shy but not insecure. In class, you’d do your work alone, but if there was ever a lull in his lecture, you’d raise your hand to offer an answer, help him out a little. That was how he had bridged the gap between you two even though he hadn’t meant it as anything more than what it was.

He had just dismissed everyone, making a corny joke about the poor grades he’d given so far on an essay that had been due. A small smile graced your lips. Sure, the joke wasn’t that funny, but you had a fat crush on Mr. Kennedy so everything he said was a little funny.

You were scrawling down a few remaining notes before you would leave for the day when you heard his voice call your name. Immediately, your head tilted up to look at him. He beckoned you over with a wave of his hand. You were still wondering what this could be about as your hands slid your notebook into your backpack and your feet carried you towards him.

“Yes, Mr. Kennedy?” you say softly when you approach his desk. You rest your palms on the edge of the table as you await the reason behind this encounter.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you for your participation. You know, I appreciate that, and I know it’s not fair to you to have that expected of you when you didn’t sign up for it,” he begins.

“Oh, it’s no problem, sir. I really don’t mind,” you say, smiling at him.

“Sir? So polite,” he jokes with a smile of his own. The remark had come out before he could stop himself with a mental scolding about being normal with you.

Your cheeks burn, and you glance down at your shoes timidly. Your heartbeat was already faster than normal just from having his eyes focused on you alone. With him teasing you, it felt like your chest was going to explode.

This was the closest you’d ever been to him, the most you’d ever spoken to one another. Up close it was even more apparent how handsome he was. He didn’t look like any other professors you had. His blonde hair fell into his face and partially obscured one of his eyes. His shirt was undone a button lower than was probably professional.

“And I wanted to tell you that I got your email about your late assignment,” he says. He could see your embarrassment. He would have felt more guilt about causing it if you didn’t look so precious like that. He pushes those thoughts away though as you look up again, anxiety in your eyes. 

“Oh yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I promise you that it’s a one time thing. I don’t normally have that problem, and I just wanted you to know that. Didn’t want you to get the wrong impression,” you say.

He cuts off your apology with a chuckle and places his hand over yours, covering your manicured nails with the rough skin of his palm. 

“It’s alright, honey,” he says, “I can tell you’re a good girl. I don’t mind giving you a break.”

Good girl. You shift in place upon hearing those two words. It’s like a small match ignites in your belly, inching closer to the larger fuse.

So naive. So well-intentioned. That’s what he saw looking at you in that moment. He could almost see into you, see your mind trying to figure out a response, to discern if he was purposely flirting or clueless like you.

Your eyes cast down, and a shy smile breaks out on your face. After wrapping up the conversation and finishing with a soft murmur of “Thank you Mr. Kennedy,” you practically skip out of the room. A swirl of almost every good emotion you’ve ever felt blooms in your chest because of his attention.

He smirks, watching that sweet ass sway back and forth as you bound up the steps to the door. How you seem to walk with your shoulders back and chest out after the small praise he gave you. God, he was practically drooling. He imagined himself looking like a cartoon character, silhouettes of hearts in his eyes and his tongue rolled out of his mouth.

But no, this was wrong. Point blank, it’s that simple. Or at least it should be.

After that day, he relented a little. He decided that some slight teasing was harmless. But he swore it would be just that, nothing further. That small voice in his head tried to defend it. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy the attention. You’d blush and fidget in your seat when he shot you an amorous look. Or you’d smile and flit your eyes away as he’d tuck some hair behind your ear when he’d come over to your desk after class to ask if you understood everything.

And as he weakened, your infatuation intensified. These classes became the highlights of your week. You’d fantasize about the pet name he’d call you on Monday or how his eyes would roam over your body on Wednesday. Walking to class, ringing through your head was simply Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy. While you traveled home, he danced through your mind to your thoughts about him that sounded like a love song.

Even with the huge torch you carried for him, you could never work up the nerve to make the big move. Every time you’d imagine sitting in his lap, your lips moving with his, all you could think about was what if it was all in your head? All those little looks and sweet words just blown out of proportion in your mind. Could you handle baring your soul to him if he reacted with anything other than reciprocation?

These questions bothered you as the semester went on, but nothing really changed. Leon was the same way, of course, all while you were unaware. He could only imagine how freaked out you would be if he made any attempt on you.

Lately, the two of you had been spending more time together. You were staying after class more to get “additional help.” Lingering around his desk, you’d timidly started approaching him, and he was happy to give you the aide.

Today, he dismisses everyone else before waving you over with a smug smile. You grab your things and scamper down to his desk with your own happy expression. You slide into the chair he pulled next to his seat. You open your laptop and start showing him the things you didn’t understand. In reality, you understood just fine, but for the sake of being around him, you’d bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes as if you’d missed entire classes worth of information.

“I just have trouble with memorization. I get confused between the words and their definitions,” you explain.

“Oh alright,” he responds softly, eyes scanning over the screen and then finding your face, “There’s a couple of things I think could help. Acronyms, stuff like that.”

He starts explaining the strategy to you, but like always, you have to fight a mental war to stay focused. You nod along, trying your best to act attentive. It was so hard though because… he’s him. 

You scoot your chair a little closer to his to get a better view of the laptop and notice his breath hitch. Your body freezes, but instead of feeling that familiar fear of rejection come over you, confidence begins simmering inside your chest. The change in his breathing meant something, he was reacting to this too. Maybe you could do this after all.

For now, you try to act natural, moving along the conversation with another question.

“Is there anything else though? Because I struggle to attach the definitions too, not just remember the words,” you say, leaning in a little more.

He turns his head to look at you completely, eyes locked on yours. You felt like you were losing your footing a little staring into them. “Mhm. I can show you how to link the two. Break down the word to get the meanings of the parts and…” he continues on as you zone out.

His voice was huskier now, and that simmer of confidence continues to build within you. You keep nodding with every pause in his speech, your doe eyes looking up at him.

“That makes sense,” you say when he finishes, still unable to look away. Your heart pounds as you make a decision. You place your hand on his thigh. You try to act natural, as if it’s just a casual gesture of affirmation. But you can see in his eyes that he knows better.

“Yeah? Do you need help with anything else then?” he asks slowly, watching your face for reactions.

“I think so,” you say as your voice grows a little breathier.

“What is it?” he asks. He leans in a little more and you can feel his hot breath fanning over you.

“I have some more questions…” you say.

“About?” he says, eyes dropping to your lips for a moment.

Head tilting down, your foot moves over to lightly brush up against his leg. You bite your lip, looking the most timid he’d ever seen you, which was saying a lot. But you force yourself to keep going while you have this burst of hope.

“Some special tutoring…” you offer.

“Special tutoring?” he repeats with a raise of his eyebrow, looking down at your foot rubbing at his ankle. He hesitates but decides to then take your hand and stand up. “If we’re discussing something like that, we should probably go to my personal office. Wouldn’t want us to get interrupted by the next class in here.”

“Oh yeah,” you immediately agree. You grab your stuff and your fingers link with his as he leads you out of the classroom, down the hall to his office. Passing bulletin boards of flyers and other students heading to their next class, you realize it probably looks a little odd to be holding his hand, letting him guide you around. But it just turned you on more, feeling dependent, controlled.

After a while, you reach the door with the stick-on placard reading “Leon Kennedy.” Your heart pounds as you shuffle through the entrance. The office was a decent size, having a desk, some book shelves, and a small loveseat in the back corner of the room.

He slides past you and walks behind his desk, taking a seat in his chair that was clearly much more comfortable than the generic one in the lecture room. It dawned on you though that that was the only other chair in the room. There was the couch, but that was too far away from the desk for your purposes.

You approach the desk, similar to how you did all those weeks ago when this first started. He looks up at you with hesitant desire in his eyes.

“Why don’t you c’mere?” he asks.

“Ok,” you respond shyly. You drop your stuff near his desk and pad around it to approach him. Standing between his muscular thighs, you almost can’t focus from the volume of your pulse in your ears. His eyes look you up and down, more overtly than they ever had in the past. It now felt like you were hurtling towards a collision without a possibility of stopping.

After a moment of silence, he rips you from your thoughts. “Go ahead and ask your questions,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” you say, perking up a little since you had nearly forgotten about your facade of innocent curiosity. “I was just wondering if I could maybe start getting some… extra help.”

He chuckles and leans back in his chair. The maneuver gives you a better view of his broad chest and sculpturesque arms. You feel even more flustered, and you know it’s about to get worse because he obviously picks up on it.

“I don’t really think you need extra help quite honestly. Your grade is fine, and you seem to understand a lot, even the tedious things you ask questions about,” he says, a subtle arrogance on his face as he drags this out.

“No, I really think I do,” you say softly, shifting back and forth in place.

His eyes look up at you with a knowing glint. He shakes his head with a smirk as his gaze falls down to your legs that couldn’t stand still.

“With what? Like I said, even those things you pretend to not know, you obviously do. You ace every test, and while I’d like to believe it, I don’t think my advice is that helpful.”

As the words left his mouth, Leon knew he was getting into dangerous territory, leading you to a place neither of you could just return from. The rational part of his mind was slamming on his mental brakes to no avail.

You were in a similar place, your mind racing and trying to decide whether to go for it or not. After a quick moment, it was as if a bright neon sign flashes in your mind. The words telling you to try. You decide on moving forward and ignoring the other part of you that’s telling you to turn around and walk out the door right now.

You sit on his lap, straddling him with each of your legs on either side of his thigh. You look down as your fingertips drag along the waistline of his pants. 

“I just think there are other things I could learn from you,” you say, your voice shaking from your nerves.

“Tell me what they are,” he breathes. His own heart slams against his ribcage at your gesture. His natural instincts scream at him to pull you close and take what he wants, making his fantasies reality.

“It’s easier for me to show you,” you say. You felt if you had to speak anymore you might lose your nerve, so you go all in. You lean forward and connect your lips. With feather light kisses, you move your mouth on his.

At first, he doesn’t kiss back, and fear zaps through you. After a moment of shock though, he reciprocates. Your hands slide up his chest while he grabs your hips to pull you closer. The two of you go at it a little longer with soft smooches. Then he feels your tongue swipe against his bottom lip.

He pulls back and looks at you. He couldn’t do this. But God, just look at you. Your chest heaving with your heavier breathing, those plush lips wet with saliva, pretty eyes looking at him like a pleading puppy. He groans and runs a hand over his face and through his hair. His head falls back against his chair.

“Sweetheart… we shouldn’t do this,” he says, not looking at you to try and keep his resolve.

You bite your lip as your eyes widen with anxiety. “Did I do something wrong?” you say, shaky voice returning.

You try to keep it together. He still wasn’t looking at you, but you silently vow to yourself that you wouldn’t cry from the rejection. There would truly be no coming back from that. It would be hard enough seeing him on Monday as it was. If you shed any tears, you’d have to drop the class regardless of how close the end of the semester was.

“No, honey. I did. I just… it’s wrong,” he offers weakly, not convinced of his own excuse, “I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I’m sorry.”

Despite your internal promise, you felt barbs scraping at your throat with each swallow. Hot, stinging tears pricking at your eyes. You try to push it all back down, spare yourself some dignity.

“But- But don’t you-” you start, cutting yourself off to maintain your composure. You take a deep breath before finishing. “Don’t you like me?”

Leon cracks his eyes open and looks down at you. A critical error. He felt like such a dick. There you were, still on his lap, lip quivering, eyes lined with tears and full of uncertainty. He managed to make this into what he wanted to avoid, a complete mess.

“No- I mean yes, I like you a lot. That isn’t the issue here. We- I… we just can’t do this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it go on this long,” he sighs, hands falling to your hips to move you off his lap.

Now, tears were really threatening to fall. You grab his shoulders to stabilize yourself and stop him from lifting you up. Your mind scrambles for an argument that could work.

“Why?” is all you can manage. As if you didn’t know.

“Baby, I’m your teacher. It wouldn’t be right,” he says, forcing himself to remain unaffected by the kicked puppy look you had going on, “I have to stay objective, and that’s hard enough with a cute little thing like yourself.” He smirks at the end of his statement and rubs your cheek, trying to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t work, your eyes are fixated on his belt buckle as a part of the strategy to keep your tears from leaking out. You subconsciously lean into his hand on your face though, a gesture that makes his heart melt. You just nod faintly. Think, think, think, think, you tell yourself. 

“But it won’t be like you’re cheating for me. I get good grades. It’s not like I’m fucking you to pass…” you reason.

“I know that, sweetheart, and you know that. But you have to understand. Think about it. What if people found out? I’d be risking my job, and I can’t imagine it would go well for you either,” he says softly, stroking some of your hair behind your ear.

“No one will find out,” you say. Your head tilts up so you can look into his eyes.

He immediately looks away, afraid he would cave if he stared into those sweet spheres of desire. You catch this, realizing it may be your way ahead.

“You’re a sweet girl, honey. Pretty and smart. The kind any man would be lucky to have. If this was a different situation, I wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a second. But it’s not,” he says, looking pained.

You push your lip out a little more and let one tear fall from each eye before quickly wiping them away,  smearing the warm liquid across your cheek. Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around him and press yourself to his chest. You look up at him, forcing him to make eye contact.

“I don’t want any man though,” you say quietly. You keep your stare locked on him, your eyes big and vulnerable to accentuate your point. “Please, sir.”

His cock jumps at the title leaving your lips. He sucks in a breath and tilts his head back. “Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says with a hushed groan.

You scoot forward a little bit, your hips grinding down on his lap with the motion. Your nose drags against his throat as you nuzzle his neck. You lay a kiss to his pulse point before murmuring, “Just a few more kisses? Then I won’t bring any of it up again. Pretty please.”

“Kisses…” he trails off, pondering the idea. Just a few more kisses. An obvious lie. But one he would at least pretend to believe just so he could have those sweet lips on his again. “Fine, but that’s it. You understand?”

“Mhm,” you respond without thinking. You lean up and kiss him. It’s not soft or gentle like the first time. This go is passionate from the beginning. Lips move together, and again, your tongue works to gain entry to his mouth.

The two of you make out for definitely more than a few kisses. Your hand slides up from his shoulder to the base of his neck, lightly tugging on his hair. He groans and squeezes your waist. You gasp between kisses at the sensation and grind your hips down again in response.

He grunts as he feels it, his cock getting a little stiff at the feeling. You do it again with a whimper. This time his fingers dig into your flesh, holding you with more authority.

“Be good, only a few more kisses, remember?” he grunts against your lips.

Continuing to kiss, you take a break from moving your hips and push your body against his again. Your soft tits push up against his chest. He tries to draw back, feeling cracks in his resolve as the warm globes meld with him. The backing of his chair stops him from getting too far away though. He grunts and his grip gets more firm, trying to keep you in a suitable position.

“Stay still. Think I’m giving you more than you asked for anyway. Don’t make me cut it off here,” he mumbles before going back in.

It was risky, but you felt like you had him. You felt him half hard between your legs and could feel his breath coming out in longer puffs. You do it again, rolling your hips on him, dragging your cunt over his bulge through the layers of clothing that separated you.

He growls and nips at your lip before harshly lifting your hips off his lap. You’re hovering above the growing tent in his jeans. You lightly rock them a few times with a pout, testing to see if you can get any kind of friction.

“What did I say?” he asks.

“It’s not fair, sir,” you whimper, ignoring his question.

“Oh, it’s not?” he says, maintaining his stern demeanor, “What’s so unfair?”

“Leading me on,” you huff.

Mix a bit of truth in with your seductive game, and you have him now. Real guilt and frustration swirls with the lust in the pit of his belly. He was all in now. There was no way you were leaving this office without his cum leaking from you.

“I told you what you were getting. You thought you could get away with being greedy,” he chides. He lifts you even more and puts you on your feet in front of him, between his thighs again. “Take your pants off.”

Your eyes widen. This was going to happen. Your fingers make quick work of your jeans, snapping the button and dropping them to pool around your ankles. You step out of them and nudge them to the side. He smirks up at you, standing there in your tight t-shirt and frilly pink panties. Of course, everything about you was cute.

His hands return to your hips and pull you on top of him. This time you aren’t on his lap though. You land on his thigh. You look down at the limb beneath you and then back at his face.

“Don’t play dumb now. You wanna rub that needy pussy on something, go ahead,” he says.

“But-“ you start before he cuts you off with a sharp smack on the ass.

“I don’t want to hear any complaining. You should count yourself lucky I’m letting you even do this,” he says as his hand rubs and kneads the cheek he just slapped, “Normally, I wouldn’t accept my little girl just doing whatever she wants like that. But because it’s your first time, I’m giving you a break. Gonna help fix this problem you’re having, thinking from between your legs instead of with that pretty little head.”

Your entire face heats up as he lays into you like that. You start rocking your hips, dragging yourself on his clothes thigh. You watch his face for approval as you go, but his eyes are transfixed on your lower body at the moment.

“There you go, baby. That’s right,” he says encouragingly before cracking you on the ass again, “Little faster. Wanna see how bad you’ve been wanting this.”

You do as he says, rolling your hips with more speed and force. The fabric of your panties begins to dampen with your arousal as you press onto it. Whimpers fall from your lips as you grind your swollen pussy on his muscle. He gives you some help, guiding your movements by holding your hips. You softly gasp a few times, biting your lip as you continue to rut against him.

“Look at you,” he coos. Your tits bounce beneath your t-shirt as you ride his thigh. “Been thinking about this a lot, sweetheart? Dream about this while you’re sitting in class, hm? Humping my leg like a dumb little puppy.”

“Yes,” you choke out and toss your head back. A guttural moan leaves you, and he chuckles, giving your hip a tighter squeeze.

“Quiet, babydoll. Don’t want anyone outside this room hearing. I don’t think they’d believe this is just some ‘special tutoring,’” he says.

You keep up your grinding, your pussy sensitive to the rough fabric of his pants even through your panties. He tries to help you quiet down by pulling you closer and cradling your head against his shoulder, muffling your sounds against his shirt. The cloth becomes wet with your spit as your hushed moans spill out.

After going for a little while longer, he can tell you’re getting close. It’s obvious in the way your hips sputter every couple of thrusts, how your voice is getting whinier, how your body contracts every few moments. Your hands curl into fists, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, “Getting close, baby? Think you’re gonna cum soon?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper.

“Aw, so polite,” he teases just like he had those weeks ago, “Well, tell me when you’re right there. Gonna make it extra special.”

You nod obediently and continue working yourself to the high point. Your breaths become sharper and movements get more erratic. You feel the band of pleasure stretching inside you, ready to snap.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum, “ you ramble out.

“Not yet, you aren’t,” he says. 

With a menacing grin, he yanks your hips up and flips you around. Mind spinning from the sudden loss of pleasure, you whine and squirm on his lap. A pointless struggle seeing how your soaked panties were faced out away from any potential source of friction. Your back’s flush against the warmth of his chest. You can feel his heartbeat thudding behind you as his hands curl around the back of your legs and bring them up so that your feet are planted on his thighs. Your head slumps back against his shoulder, turning to look up at him, pleading frustration projecting from your eyes.

One of his arms snakes around your waist while the other comes up to stroke your chin with his thumb. He looks down at you, eyes full of amusement as he toys with you.

“Now that was really unfair, wasn’t it pretty girl?” he taunts.

You arch your back off his chest with another whine before collapsing against his broad form again. You nod, feeling the sparks of ecstasy dwindle within you.

“You’re a tease,” you huff.

“I am?” he mocks. 

He begins trailing his hand down your front, stopping level with your breasts. He squeezes them gently with some firm caresses from his fingers. Then he lowers his hand further and slips it beneath your shirt. Your breath hitches as he begins stroking the soft skin of your belly up to the valley between your breasts. His palm slides beneath the cups of your bra, feeling the bare skin of your chest. He alternates between each. The rough pads of his fingertips drag over the sensitive flesh of your nipples, giving them tender pinches that draw hushed mewls from you.

“So soft, baby,” he whispers with a kiss to your temple.

It felt nice, made your breasts feel heavy and achy, begging to be touched. Had your head hot and airy, unable to control the way you melted against him or the sweet noises that escaped you. But you couldn’t really enjoy that because your pussy was still throbbing, still desperately searching for the orgasm that was stolen from you. You squirm again, pushing your ass back against the bulge you felt growing in his pants.

“Please, sir. Please,” you whimper, “Wanna cum.”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against the side of your head, but his tone remains rough and commanding. “I think the next thing I gotta teach you is patience.”

Retracting his hand from your bra, he smooths it back down your stomach to the hem of your panties. His fingers fidget with one of the strips of lace on the garment while he stares into your eyes.

“You know, baby, I think you’re the tease here,” he breathes. He rubs the skin just above your panties and then moves under the fabric. His digits glide through your slick folds, the touch meandering, just at the border of giving you pleasure. “I mean, I think you know what you’ve been doing.”

“What?” you say, struggling to take in his words when you were fixated on his touches to your center.

“You act like a dumb little doll, sweetheart, but I know you’re not. I know you know how to play. Parading around in those pretty outfits, something always on your lips, always saying ‘yes sir,’” he whispers. His digits circle your clit at a painfully slow pace. He brushes over it slightly, giving you hope before flattening his hand over your cunt. You get ready to whine about the teasing before he pushes two fingers inside you.

“Mr. Kennedy,” you gasp, head pressing back further against his shoulder.

“Oh, and how could I forget my favorite, ‘Mr. Kennedy.’ But I think it’s about time you start calling me Leon, babydoll. No need to be so formal anymore,” he says as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right.

You shake your head and whimper. His palm rubs down on your puffy clit with every thrust of his hand.

“Oh no?” he teases, “You like Mr. Kennedy taking care of you, making you feel good?”

Your eyes roll back as you nod. “Mhm. Yes… s-sir,” you say.

You stumble over the word ‘sir.’ Leon catches it immediately, and he’s certain he knows why. He knows what you really wanted to call him.

“Mmm, good girl,” he purrs in your ear, seeing the way the praise pulls extra gasps from you, makes your eyes all glossy, “You’re so sweet, baby. So precious.”

He lays it on thick, trying to get you to crack and say the word on the tip of your tongue. His fingers massage your sensitive spots as they consistently slide into your dripping cunt. You bite your lip, more whimpers coming from you. You look up at him again through your lashes.

“Thank you, sir,” you say, voice all soft and dreamy as you start climbing to that high.

“Of course, babydoll. You deserve it,” he says into your hair, “But you know, I still think ‘sir’ is too professional. Makes me feel like I’m at work. Plus, I get the feeling you have another name in mind too.”

“I- I do?” you ask, looking up at him curiously. He smiles at your naivety and the way you try to get your words out around your whimpers.

“Oh yeah. I can already hear it, sweetheart. You like being taken care of, being doted on. I can see it. All you want is to be a good girl for…”

“Daddy,” you whine, your eyes squeezing shut.

“That’s right,” he chuckles. He speeds up his fingers, delving as deep as possible. A quiet squeal erupts from you, and he hushes you while kissing your cheek a few times. You try to keep your noises down even as your hips buck and your heels dig into the meat of his thighs.

“Daddy I- Daddy, Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.

“Aw, but I don’t want my baby to cum yet,” he mocks. Just as quick as the release had built in you, it was gone. He pulls his fingers out of your hole, and your eyes widen. You whimper in disbelief, hips squirming as if they could find that sensation again if they were positioned just right.

“Daddy!” you practically cry.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” he says, taking his fingers, still wet with your slick, and shoving them into your mouth. You hum around them in surprise at first, but in no time, your tongue presses against the skin, tasting yourself on him. He pumps them in and out a little, a smaller version of what he had been doing moments earlier down below.

“There you go, baby. Like I said, no complaints. Just shut that silly mind off and focus on Daddy’s fingers,” he murmurs. He watches with approval as you do exactly that, your eyes fluttering a bit as you clear your thoughts out. “Such a fast learner.”

Your pussy still aches with a need for him, but it’s more tolerable when he’s cooing in your ear while your lips are around his fingers.

“Bet my pretty girl wants to cum so bad right about now,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear.

“Mhm,” you hum as you take his fingers further into your mouth.

“Well, you know why Daddy didn’t let you cum yet? It wasn’t just to be mean to you,” he says.

He hears garbled “I don’t know” come from you. He strokes your hair with his other hand.

“It’s because,” he starts. He removes his fingers from between your lips and scoops you up. Next thing you know, your back is against the hardwood of his desk. You’re looking up at him with hazy eyes, slowly blinking as you take in his words. “I want you to cum all over Daddy’s cock.”

In mere seconds, his belt clanks against the floor, your panties are gone, his fly is undone, and his dick is out, rock hard. It’s flushed and leaking precum as he moves it to your entrance. He pushes the tip in first, teasing you by holding himself there.

You whine at the slight intrusion, wiggling your hips for more. Jutting your lip out a bit, you look up at him with a pout. “Daddy…” you plead weakly.

He shakes his head with an amused smile, but it works. He pushes the rest of his length in, filling you up completely. As he slides in, a long groan leaves him and his head tilts towards the ceiling. He grumbles something along the lines of “so fucking tight.” Your fingers reach downward to grip the edge of his desk. It felt like you were already there again, right on the brink of release.

After a moment of just taking in the feeling, he begins thrusting. He pulls his hips back and pushes them forward again. His cock slides between your walls with no resistance, the perfect fit. You were already pulsing around him, sucking him in deeper. A deep laugh rumbles from his chest.

“You're gonna cum already, baby. I’m that good?” he mocks. He thumbs your clit, sending a burst of pleasure through you that makes you clamp down on him. He grunts and starts thrusting a little harder.

You’re whining quietly, but you can’t hold back the yelp when he pinches your clit. You cum on the spot, gushing around him. You babble incoherently and buck your hips. The high was higher than any euphoria you’d ever felt. You’re panting when it’s done, but he’s still going.

He’s smirking down at you, rocking his hips all the while. “Did I say you could do that?” he asks with a light spank to your clit.

You gasp and arch your back off the desk. “No!” you whine, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“I’m sure you are.” Another spank. “You’re lucky it’s your first time, and I’m giving you a break today.”

You nod quickly. “Thank you Daddy,” you mumble.

He keeps thrusting, seamlessly going between hard and fast and slow and deep. The motions shake the desk back and forth, sliding inches on the floor each time. You feel like there’s gonna be scrape marks when you’re done.

You also feel like you’re gonna have marks from the way he’s gripping your hips, battering your sensitive pussy. You were so worked up from all the teasing that the overstimulation didn’t even faze you. Your head just droops back, hanging off the edge of the desk. 

It’s harder to keep track of how loud you’re being when you’re this out of it. He smiles at your needy whines and pulls your thighs forward so your head is back on the desk. He leans forward, covering his body with yours and grinding his hips deeper than before. His hand comes up and covers your mouth.

“You better hope no one hears, pretty girl. We didn’t lock the door,” he pants.

You moan against the flesh of his hand and your walls tighten their grip on him. He growls in your ear at the sensation before a low chuckle comes from him.

“Oh, you’d like that? I should’ve known,” he teases, “You’d love for someone to come in and see how good you’re being. What a sweet girl you are, being used by your teacher. Love for them to see all the things Daddy’s teaching you.”

A strained cry bubbles beneath his fingers, and you nod, feeling shameless about your fantasy. He nuzzles the side of your head and keeps thrusting as deep as he can. He knows you’re getting close again, and this time, he’s right there with you.

“Come on, sweet baby. Give Daddy another one. I know my precious girl can do it. You were wanting it for so long,” he grunts.

Your whole body seizes as another orgasm rips through you. Your whines and cries are fortunately muffled by his palm, but he feels your drool leaking against his skin. His own eyes squeeze shut as he gasps and moans. His hips jerk, pounding into you a few more times before he cums. He bites his lip to silence his own noises as he spills into, filling you to the brim.

Both of your chests are heaving in the end as you take in gulps of air. He slowly pulls out and pushes some of his hair out of his face. You're both half dressed, his pants down to his knees, shirt unbuttoned. You, nude from the waist down and bra shifted out of place beneath your shirt. 

The two of you stand up, you on shaky legs, and pull yourselves back into shape. You pull your panties up and follow them with your jeans while he does the same with his pants. He then falls back into his chair and takes you with him.

He just holds you to his chest for a little bit, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head. You don’t say anything either. You curl up into the affection and stroke his forearm gently.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs before squeezing you a little tighter.

You’re both so into it, not caring about anything beyond this office at this moment. That is until you catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall.

“Oh… Mr. Kennedy,” you start as you slowly untangle yourself from him and stand up, “I probably should get going. I have to meet my friend to study soon.”

He’s not happy about losing your body on his, but he smiles at your words.

“Alright, honey, but seriously. It’s Leon from now on,” he says.

“Ok,” you laugh with a nod, “Leon.”

You grab your things and give him one more sweet look before turning to walk to the door. He pats you on the ass and kisses your cheek.

“See you Monday, baby,” he says.

[avtrbee]

the prince

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig

✢ a/n: i’m not gonna lie to you guys, i know i’ve been a while and im really ashamed that i come back with something that i believe this isn’t my best work at all. i had this prompt in my head for a long time and i have wanted to publish this ever since. always love hearing from all of you and i’d like to get some feedback as well <33

You were a clan kid fortunate enough to be born with the clan’s cursed technique but unfortunate enough to be a woman. Your childhood tutors had drilled the duties of wives in your head, and had made you comfortable with the idea of an arranged marriage. You pride yourself as a good traditional daughter, whose greatest honor would be marrying your husband.

Never in your life did you imagine yourself caring for a child that is not yours.

That was, of course, until you met your husband.

You have heard of Gojo Satoru before and fought him a few times during sister-school events, but never in your life did you think he’d be who you were destined for. Still, he surprised you.

“You are my wife, my equal,” he promises you at the night of your wedding. The ceremony was over and the guests have gone home. You have said your vows in front of the gods and they have bounded you to this man.

He drags you off to bed and makes you sit on the floor with him.

Satoru looks at you with the moon shining on him making him look like an ethereal god. And to you, he was. Which is why you tilt your head at his statement. “Gojo-sama, I do not understand-”

“Satoru,” he says. “I am your husband, you should call me by my name y’know.” His voice is light and teasing, underplaying the reality of the situation. “I don’t want a slave. I want a confidant. A partner. I need someone. Do you understand?”

You nod. Strangely you do. “We must protect each other.”

You were both very lonely people thrust into a union none of you asked for. There are targets on your backs for sins you cannot control. You were alone, but not anymore.

Your husband nods and he takes his glasses off. You realize for the nth time that Satoru is a pretty, pretty man. His blue eyes shine and twinkle like the stars above.

He reaches for your hand- a strange gesture but you allow it anyway. “I will do right by you,” he promises. In his mind he remembers his mother, the one who loves too much but is loved so less. Like her, Satoru’s marriage is arranged by the clan. But he will not be his father.

He is a man of his word.

The next morning you find yourself waking to an empty bed with a smell of burning food. You catch your husband defeated before the stove with burnt scrambled egg on the table. “This is what couples do, right?”

You stare at him, simply horrified that you had failed to wake up first. You were supposed to cook him breakfast, not the other way around.

Satoru catches your expression. “Hey! It’s not that bad!” He pokes the pathetic excuse of a scrambled egg. His mother had always cooked for the family, it shouldn’t have been this hard. “…right?”

You ban him from your kitchen.

He takes you to the school next. You walk behind him, as is the norm, but Satoru makes a face that pushes you to stay beside him. His voice echoes in your head, you are my wife, my equal.

The weather was perfect, but he fusses about the fact that you decided to wear a sleeveless sundress that he deems inappropriate for the wind.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“Yes, Satoru.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow suspiciously, like he does not believe you. He reaches over and takes your hand in his. His face morphs to an expression of victory. “Ha! Your hands are cold. You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.” He spits, but his voice lacks venom. You pretend to ignore his poor excuse to hold your hand. Deep inside you like it. Romance is for fiction and some anime you were lucky enough to watch. A distinguished member of your the Gojo clan does not deserve it, but your husband is a romantic.

He stops you from walking out of the shade of the trees and into the sunshine. He opens his tote bag and points to a closed umbrella. “Do you need this? To protect you from- y’know.”

His points up to the sun.

Against your will you find his needless worrying endearing. He does not know his role as a husband well, but he is trying. When you finally arrive inside the Tokyo school, his hand is still clasped in your. Satoru is loud and proud when he introduces you to everyone, even if you have done nothing to deserve such pride. His co-workers pity you for being married to him and offer their condolences. Satoru protests strongly.

“Y/N loves spending time with me!” he says, stomping his feet like a child. He tugs your hand and looks at you in support. “Right?”

You smile and nod. You do. You wonder if you may love him someday.

-

The night is dark, and Satoru is not home yet. It has been a slow 8 months since your marriage. The ladies from your clan were wrong. Your husband is not cruel. He does not scold you if you use your cursed technique even when you accidentally use it on him.

You have never been someone good with words, so you decide to bake him a simple carrot cake. Your husband has a sweet tooth and he has a penchant of liking things better if it came from you.

You had only just finished adding icing the cake when you felt Satoru’s cursed energy through the door. You take a look at your cake one last time before heading towards the door to greet him.

Traditionally a wife must wait for her husband to enter in the middle of the room kneeling for supplication- a tradition most ingrained in your head more than most. As a compromise, Satoru suggested to have you greet him by the door instead because- “The first thing I want to see when I get home is your cute face. Obviously.”

You dust off imaginary crumbs off your hands by wiping it on your pants before sliding the door open.

“Welcome ho-”

In front of you, Satoru looks cold. You wonder if this is how others see him. He looks down at you with a cold gaze, He does not tremble. There is a child in his arms.

Both child and Satoru looks at you with twin cold eyes. You shiver. “He’s mine.”

You hear maids scuffle from behind you, but you do not care. The child innocently rests his cheek on Satoru’s shoulder looking at you.

There is no doubt the child is his. Your husband’s hair is on his head and dear god- their eyes. They have the same eyes.

In your head you hear the ladies of your clan again. Stand tall, Y/N. They may have their mistresses, but you will always be his true wife.

Of course you knew about Satoru’s womanizer past- present. Are you upset? Are you angry? You do not know, truly. You are simply confused.

Your clan’s ladies have prepared you for worst; what to do when your husband brings home another woman, what to say if they came home violent, where to go if you are too broken and beaten to sleep beside him. But what if your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

There is a pain in your chest you do not understand. This is expected! Men cannot be held down by just their wives. Did you expect him to be different? A cold fury washes over you

“Welcome home.” You finish instead.

-

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