#and never really got to finish it since life happened

[writingroom21]

Imagine reader a shy sweet inexperienced girl who has never went to a party as a friend forces her to tag along as there is a glory hole somewhere as Rafe inserts his cock in the hole as he’s never done this before as it’s a dare, reader doesn’t know it’s Rafe her long time bully he even bullies her still even in college. Plz plz plz make this extra smutty

Glory

Pairing: Bully!Rafe x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, deep throating, slapping, branding, (let me know if I missed any)

Wc:4.5K

A/N: Kinda got carried away with this one

“Could you stop looking like a kicked puppy. You’re acting like I made you come here at gun point.” You try not to roll your eyes as you follow your best friend into the house. People say hi to here and give you a once over before turning away. Great. “You practically did.” Melanie, your best friend, turns around to look at you. One of her manicured hands wraps around yours to pull you into an empty hallway. “If you want we can go back home.” The look on her face tells you she wants to stay.

Knowing her your whole life has its plus. You can see the sparkle in her eyes meaning she’s ready to party. You sigh and shake your head. “No you’re right. I need to put myself out there.” Her eyes get a bit brighter at your words. “Maybe getting out of the house is what I need.” She hugs you tightly. “Thank you.” Her happiness is enough to make you get through the rest of this night. You can get over yourself for one night.

Melanie drags you to the drinks table shoving a solo cup into your empty hands. Taking a sip, you cough at the taste, hating how it burns. The party seems to get louder with people yelling. That’s when you sense it. There’s a shift in the air and everything gets cold. “Actually I want to go back. I forgot I have a project I need to finish.” You don’t listen because you turn around and your eyes meet his. The same eyes that haunt all of your dreams. The same ones that broke you. Rafe Cameron stands there staring at you with a stupid smirk. Melanie pulls your hand drawing your attention to her. “Let’s just go.”

“I’m okay.”

She doesn’t really believe you. She dragged you out of the darkness he created. She knows how you truly feel. “I don’t want you near him.” Melanie maneuvers you out of the second kitchen door just as he came in. “It was a long time ago. Plus he’s left me alone since then.” Liar. You can’t tell you that he follows you in between classes just to mock you. That when he catches you talking to any guy he tells them how much of a ‘desperate bitch’ you are. Those words still haunt you to this day.

“Are you really that desperate to think I’d go for you? If me telling you how disgusting you are every day wasn’t clear enough – you are nothing. You’ll never be nothing.”

“We’ll leave whenever you want, okay?” Nodding along you try to ignore his presence. After a while you genuinely did. One drink turned into four and you finally felt free. It’s a feeling you haven’t felt since middle school. Because that’s when it started. Great, you’re thinking about him. The dress you wear rides up a bit as you sway along to the music. A body slides up behind you, hands finding your hips. Opening your eyes, you see Greg from your creative writing class. You smile up at him and turn around to throw your arms around his neck. 

Greg is the only guy that hasn’t run away from Rafe’s lies. The rest all fled at his horrendous stories of how you threw yourself at him. As if embarrassing you in front of the whole class in high school wasn’t enough. All of your humiliation seems to be the only thing that brings Rafe joy. It started in sixth grade when he realized you had a crush on him. You had grown up together so both of you knew everything about each other. Which means he knew exactly what could hurt you. And he did right in front of everyone in the hallway between classes. You had excused his rude words and mocking tone for so long. Hoping it was him still being hurt about what happened with his parents. But senior year sealed the deal.

Rafe Cameron just hates you.

Hatred is the only word that could describe it. The same hatred that stares at you as you dance with your friend. Tracking Greg’s hands as they guide up and down your sides. You watch him with a confused look not knowing why he’s even watching you. He made it clear you’re nothing to him, so why is he looking? The music around you picks up and strobe lights start to glow. Each flicker of the lights gives you a brief moment of him. Blackness envelopes you and then there he is staring. You keep dancing with Greg trying to ignore his presence. Then blackness envelopes you again but when you look back he’s closer. His eyes burn into yours every time the lights come back on.

Every drop of the lights draws him closer to you. Every muscle in your body is screaming for you to give Greg an excuse and just leave. But you don’t. Then just when you think he’s about to come for you there’s nothing. He was one step from you. The lights had gone out just to come back to show the crowded bodies. But no Rafe. You finally breathe, thankful that he didn’t ruin this.

Each song that plays cracks your resolve making you feel loose. It’s possible it’s all due to the alcohol but who cares. You lost Melanie a few songs ago. She went off with her newest fling to do god knows what. Leaving you with Greg who is rambling about the new story he’s writing for your class. “Looks like she had fun.” Your head snaps up, tuning back into the conversation. He tilted his head over to Melanie who was waltzing over to you. Her eyes are glowing and there’s a thin layer of sweat gleaming her skin. She’s fixing the hem of her dress right as she gets to you. “That good?” She looks over at Greg and nods. “That good.”

They share a look you really can’t decipher. “You know in the back hallway-” “Shut up Greg.” You stare at Melanie in disbelief at her tone. “I’m just saying I could show her.” She kicks him causing him to lift up his hands. “What am I missing?” Melanie rolls her eyes as she kicks Greg off of the couch. He grumbles something about grabbing another drink before leaving. “God I swear he’s annoying.” she steals your cup and takes a sip. “Just ignore him okay.” You look at her wanting to see what she’s hiding. “What’s in the back hallway?” A blush crosses her cheeks but she just shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s something you’re into.”

That’s the last thing she said about the cryptic hallway. Drunk people and drugs surround you. Greg and Melanie have their own conversation, not paying you mind. Giving you the perfect moment to slip away. Walking past a group of people you see a couple leaving a hallway giggling. With your interest peaked you head over not knowing what you were getting yourself into. Peaking your head around the corner you see Rafe and some of his friends. Kelce and Topper went to different colleges so it's his new dick head of friends. Not like the other two were better. “Just go already.” There’s a scoff. “No.”

“You lost and this was the price.” Murmurs fill the hallway before silence comes. Taking another look around the corner you see that they are all gone. Heading over to where they were standing you really don’t notice anything unusual.  There’s only two doors next to each other, while the rest of the walls are decorated. Testing one of the doors you realize it’s locked. Moving on to the next one you get success. The door opens showing a small room with a tv and some bean bags. There’s a coffee table in the middle of the room with what seems like porno magazines. Your face scrunches the thought of random people coming in here to get their rocks off.

A blinking light on the left side of the wall grabs your attention. The dim glow of a ready sign blinks slowly. Heading over to the wall you see a button. Curiosity wins as you press it, seeing another ready sign glow. Looking around the room you try to figure out what is happening. Turning back to the wall, taking a step closer you press your ear to the wall to hear something. Then something pokes your bare thigh. Looking down you see a hole in the wall and a dick sticking out through it. 

You take a step back out of instinct not knowing what to do. “I’m clean, don’t worry.” The voice from the other side is muffled but you swear you know it from somewhere. Schooling your breathing, you kneel down, nervous on where this is going. This certainly isn’t what you were expecting but you can’t help yourself. He has one of the biggest dicks you’ve ever seen. It’s girthy so you know it might be a struggle to fit him in your mouth. Or anywhere for that matter. It curves upwards a bit, making your mouth water from the thought of it hitting your g-spot.

Reaching forward, you take a hold of him and give him a squeeze. A moan comes from the other side of the wall as you start to pump him slowly. Spitting on the tip you lubricate your hand to help guide you. After a few strokes you bring yourself closer, licking the tip lightly. The taste of salt invades your mouth. His precum is salty and sweet at the same time making you want more of it. Should you really be doing this? Pushing the thought aside you wrap your mouth around his tip and deepthroat him.

A pounding sound startles you and the wall shakes. “Don’t stop.” Even though it’s muffled, you can hear the pleading pressure behind it. A shiver is sent down your spine at the thought of bringing some stranger pleasure. Increasing your pace, you take him as far as you can while using your other hand to stroke the rest. You keep gaging around him every time he reaches the back of your throat. Opening your eyes you see the flesh of his hip and upper thighs. His skin is so smooth. You want to reach through the opening but you stop when his hand comes into view. 

His hand holds the base of his cock as he starts to thrust forward. The combination of his thrusts and you bobbing your head has you reiling. You’re barely getting any air so your head is getting fuzzy. You pull back to catch some air and stare blankly at his hand. He’s stroking his base, waiting for you to return. But all you are looking at is his ring. The same one you’ve seen so many times before.

On his pointer finger sits a gold ring with the letters R.C. It’s the same family ring that Rafe always wears. “You okay, baby?” It’s still muffled but his voice is getting clearer now. You try to get back into the head space you were just in but you can’t. Thankfully when you don’t answer he retreats and you can finally breathe. There’s an ache between your thighs and when you try to stand up you can feel how wet you are. That shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. Being with him shouldn’t have turned you on.

You’re still trying to compose yourself when the door opens and clicks shut. You whip around to come face to face with an equally as shocked Rafe. “You.” There’s malice behind his words. As if he is disgusted at the thought of you being the one sucking the soul out of him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Didn’t say that a few seconds ago when I had you shoved down my throat.” His jaw clenches as silence fills the room. He takes a step closer and you can see that he still has his pants unbuckled. 

“So you followed me here? Thought you could finally get your chance with me?” Your blood boils at his insinuation. Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. You want to add as much distance between you two so you step back. “Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t obsessed with you. I thought we were friends but to you I was just a punching bag.” His eyes darken and he actually laughs at you. His feet drag along the floor as he walks over to you. Each step he takes, you take one back. Eventually you hit the back of the wall meaning you have nowhere else to go. 

“You really think I’m so stupid that I didn’t see the way you looked at me?” He tilts his head to the right, staring down at you. “You're just a pathetic nobody that thought you were special. I only tolerated you because of our parents.” The way he stares down his nose at you, pisses you off. He’s always been so full of himself. You don’t know why you even liked him when you were younger. You really thought there was something different about him but he’s proved time and time again that he’s evil. “Cut me a fucking break Cameron. You’re still the same broken boy that came running crying to me after mommy left.”

Taking a step forward you decide to fight back for the first time in your life. “You’re so fucked up that she ran just to get away from you. I only stuck around because I pitied you. The little boy whose mommy left them. Not to mention how much daddy hates you.” There’s a snap in his expression. He’s always looked mad at the world but in this moment he looks murderous. In a flash a hand wraps around your throat constricting your airway. You claw at his wrist trying to get him off but it’s useless.

“Choose your next words wisely.” There’s a snarl in his voice. “If I remember correctly you kissed me saying how you always liked me. You can’t rewrite history.” His grip gets a little tighter, almost cutting off all air flow. “A mistake on my end. Not much to like anyway.” Your chest heaves up and down. With each breath your nipples brush against his chest making them harder. “A mistake.” He repeats back, trying to see if that’s really what you said. “Yeah, isn’t that what your dad said about you? Let me guess you decided to hurt me to make yourself feel better.” Rafe’s breathing picks and his grip tightens to the point that you feel it behind your eyes.

He lifts you slightly making you claw and kick at him to let you go. Blood rushes through your ears making everything sound funny. Your chest rises and falls at a fast pace before starting to slow. In a thud, you fall to the floor when he lets you go. It takes you a moment to catch your breath but it didn’t last long. Using the fact that he had his pants unbuttoned–he pulls them down to expose himself. He strokes his dick right in front of your face and uses his other hand to hold you by your hair. There’s a smirk on his face that makes you feel nervous.“Good to see you finally found a backbone.” He keeps stroking himself and you just feel frozen in this position.

“I like it when they fight.”

The tip of his cock pokes your lips, moving just as you part them to rub along your cheek. Pre-cum stains your skin as he keeps rubbing the head of his dick along your skin. His eyes follow the movement. He taps your lips letting you open them before shoving in. Your eyes close on instinct, moaning around his shaft as he thrusts into you. He pulls tightly at your hair making you open your eyes to look at him. There’s a spark in his eyes you haven’t seen in years. He’s hitting the back of your throat causing your gag reflex to be in overdrive. Which only made his thrust faster when you constricted around him. The hand that’s not holding your head travels to the straps of your dress. 

Rafe toys with the thin fabric while he keeps using your mouth. Your panties are becoming soaked with each thrust. If you asked yourself a few weeks ago if you’d like this, you would have said no. But being here right now is proving you wrong. All you want is for him to keep going and maybe go even further. As if he’s read your mind he drags the strap over your shoulder until your left breast is exposed. He does the same thing to the next strap so your top half is exposed to him. He slaps your cheek leaving a red mark from how hard it is. His hands go back to your hair to grip it.

Using the leverage he drags you along his dick. He holds your head down for a moment, making you deep throat him. He keeps you there restricting your air flow. When he drags you off, you gulp down any air you can get before he continues. His thrusts start to stutter then go back to their pace. “Shit.” It's a whisper but you heard it.

Rafe pulls out, gripping the base of his cock hardly to subside the impending orgasm. “Touch yourself.” The demand doesn’t help the throbbing you are feeling between your legs. When you don’t move quick enough for him, he pulls you up and moves you to the bean bags. Pushing you down into it, he pulls the other one to be right in front of you. “Pull up the dress and touch yourself. Or I’ll do it for you.” Tingles are sent down your spine as you just stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

You don’t like the smirk he has as he strokes himself. It’s not his usually cocky one that he makes a show of wearing. No this is something more sultry. “As a heart attack. Now touch yourself.” Your heart flutters at the old dad joke you used to say. The same one he mocked until you refused to say it. He goes to make a move and you beat him to it. Pulling up the dress you present him with the black lace panties you are wearing. “Did you wear those for me?” You scoff at his audacity and just move on. “You wish.” Your panties glide down your leg exposing you to him. 

Every second that passes causes the fire in you to keep building. His stare isn’t letting up. You can feel a hole being burned into you as you tease yourself. Running a finger along your clit you moan. The leather like material of the bean bags squeaks with your movement. Lightly your fingers keep rubbing circles and sometimes dipping into your center to put on a show. Doing this in the comfort of your own room is so different from doing it in front of Rafe. Your head is everywhere with so many different thoughts. You really shouldn’t be doing this.

This is Rafe. The same boy who broke you in front of so many people just for his own pleasure. “Don’t stop.” He gets off the bean bag to kneel in front of you. His hands find your knees, slowly making their way up. Your breathing gets heavy as the smallest inkling of an orgasm builds. You squirm in his hold, increasing the pace of your fingers wanting to chase that feeling. The ceiling you were just staring at disappears as you close your eyes. Giving Rafe the perfect opportunity for Rafe to lean down and lick your pussy lips. Your eyes snap open to look just as he removes your hand so he can suck on your clit. 

Hooking his arms under your thighs, he pulls you closer to smother his face with you. His eyes are interlocked with yours, watching you fall apart. Your mouth drops open in a moan when he pushes a finger into you. Based on how wet you are he could probably just slide right in. A thought that made him even harder than he already is. The groan he lets out sends vibrations through your pussy making you cum on the spot. You clench around his fingers, spasming as he sucks harder onto your clit. The feeling prolongs, sending wave after waves. Just when you think you’re going to cum again he stops. 

He licks his lips clean and gives your thigh a kiss before biting it lightly. You wince at the feeling but it doesn’t last long. “Turn around.” He leans back and slaps the side of your thigh then helps you get on your knees. Your upper half is thrown over the top of the bean bag while your knees dig into the floor. Large hands rub against your ass cheeks giving them a squeeze. His thumb grazes over your folds spreading your slickness. Guiding his tip to your entrance, he lathers himself with your juices. “For all of that talk about hating me.” You look over your shoulder to look him in the eye. “You seem to be very impatient about fucking me.”

His grip on your ass cheek gets tighter just before he plows into you. Pausing for a moment he lets you adjust to his size. More like he takes a moment to compose himself because you’re right. “Just fulfilling your wildest dreams.”  He leans over your body to whisper in your ear. “I still remember what your diary said.” Heat floods your body but not in a good way. The same embarrassment you felt back then comes flooding back. Of course he still remembers what it says. He took time memorizing it just to recite it at the school talent show. “Fuck you.”

You try to push him off of you but he holds your head down and starts thrusting. “Wasn’t that the fantasy? To finally feel how it is for me to be inside you.” You try to push back again but it only makes you thrust back into him. He grabs your arms holding them out so you're practically suspended in the air. In this position he spears into you, hitting your g-spot over and over again. With each thrust your tits bounce . It’s harsh as he uses his grip to have you match his thrusts. His touch is making everything hazy. He moves one of your arms so he has two in one hand. The other hand reaches over to tug at your nipple.

You moan and arch your back, leaning away from his touch. “Couldn’t believe you could write such dirty shit.” His voice is right in your ear, bringing flashbacks to the forefront of your mind. “What was it that you said? ‘I wish he would just hold me down and just fuck me already. I want him to just mark me as his because I am.’ Gotta say almost had me.” He increases his thrusting and pushes you back into the bean bag. His right hand holds your head down. Pushing you into the material to the point you can barely breathe.

“Or my favorite. ‘I want him to sneak through my window and cover my mouth as he fucks me. Telling me that no one can hear us.’ Really kinky for you.” Tears sting your eyes as you try to fight a sob. You don’t know if it’s from the embarrassment or due to the pleasure he’s giving you. But it doesn’t matter because his next words stun you. “Should’ve done it.” His thrusts slow down a bit like his words stunned him too. “Shut up.”

He thrust in at a steady pace, removing his hands from you completely. “I would have done it if things were different.” A pang struck your heart at the words. “I would have snuck into your room every night. Fuck you every chance that I get because I can’t get enough of it.” His words are sending a fire through you in the best way possible. The emotional whiplash is getting to you, making your orgasm tetter on the edge.

Your ears start to buzz. Nothing really makes sense anymore but him. At this moment you really don’t care who he is. All that matters right now is the pleasure he’s giving you. You can hate yourself later but right now you are going to enjoy it. A hot sizzling pain shoots through you. Your right ass cheek burns and you let out a half scream that’s also a moan. His other hand rubs your clit, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm eases the pain from whatever happened to your ass. The tip of his cock keeps rubbing your g-spot prolonging the pleasure until it becomes too much. 

He pulls out and yanks you to kneel in front of him as he stands over you. Without being told anything you open your mouth and lick his tip. Rafe strokes his dick as he holds you in place to paint your face in cum. It covers most of your face, getting into your eyes covering your vision. A finger wipes it from your eyes and Rafe watches you as he licks him cum off of his finger. “What did you do?” You go to touch your ass to ache the pain you’re feeling. He grabs your wrist and hauls you up to him. Grabbing your face, he starts to lick off his cum before feeding it to you.

Your lips meet him, devouring the taste of him on your tongue. He’s holding you so tight that it hurts. You can feel some of your hairs pulling out from his grip on your hair. Rafe disconnects from the kiss and guides you over to a mirror on the wall. He turns you so you’re face to face and moves your head. You can see remnants of cum on your face making your cheeks heat. Roaming your eyes down your body, you land on a red mark on your ass check. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open. 

Turning back around, you punch him repeatedly trying to express your frustration. “You fucking branded me?” All he did was smirk at you. It was like you weren’t pissed at him at all. Of course to him this would be funny. His hand lifts in the air to show off his stupid gold ring. The R.C looks less shiny as it once was. Probably from the heat he applied to it so he could mark you. “Now you know who you belong to.” His hand wraps around your throat bringing you in for another kiss. 

“I'm not done with you yet.”

Taglist: @haruvalentine4321 @namelesslosers @ijustwanttoreadlols @drewsphswife @corpsebridenightamare @actorslover @juniperbaies @fionaswifeyy @dark1paradise @stoned-writer @notafairyteen @theoraekenslover @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore@10ava01@selfcontollover07 @akobx@rafesbabygirlx@lolasangelz@emmaaas-posts@anacamofficial@theoraekenslover@drewsphswife@illicitpages@angelteardropss@solaceluna let me know if you want to be added!

[ruler-of-nothing-important]

Hello? Hello hello?

Uh, I wanted to record a message for you, to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you, I’m finishing up my last week now as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I’m here to tell you there’s nothing to worry about, Uh, you’ll do fine. So, let’s just focus on getting you through your first week, okay?

Uh, let’s see, first there’s an introductory greeting from the company, that I’m supposed to read. Uh, it’s kind of a legal thing, you know.

Um, “Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced.” Blah blah blah.

Now that might sound bad, I know. But, there’s really nothing to worry about.

Uh, the animatronic characters here, do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No. If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I’d probably be a bit irritable at night too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay.

So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uh, they’re left in some kind of free roaming mode at night, uh, something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long? Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too, but then there was The Bite of ’87. Yeah. I-It’s amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?

Uh, now concerning your safety. The only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won’t recognize you as a person. They’ll pr-They’ll most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now, since that’s against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, they’ll probably try to…forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn’t be so bad, if the suits themselves weren’t filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices. Especially around the facial area. So you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort, and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask. Heh. Yeah, they don’t tell you these things when you sign up.

But hey, first day should be a breeze. I’ll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night.

5.50 +3.50

What?

[deepinthegroves]

shuffle the cards and read the signs..

𖦹°‧ oh,, one fell out ! what is it..?

THE FOOL (DAY 0)

〝 the embrace of new beginnings. 〞 anything about your first day in your desired reality! what will you wear? what is your schedule? who will you meet?

0800: my alarm goes off, loud and music blasting from the speakers installed around my room. i groan, pulling my blankets over my head as i use my magic to get my alarm to "shut up!", but my plans of rolling back to sleep is ruined when a giant paw comes smashing down against the side of my face. my eyes open to see a snout near my eyes, wide and panting as Rocco paws yet again, a sign that i should get out of bed.

0815: a robe wrapped over my pyjamas, i am now squatting in my living room as Rocco and Damian eat, one more enthusiastic than the other. i yawn, wet tissue in hand and ready to clean up after my darlings once they're done. luckily the other three were with my siblings or my work would have more than doubled..

0830: with my pets' breakfast done and over with, i'm soaking in the tub and mentally running through my day. first uni, then patrol, then my office.. my life is packed. still, i lift myself out and get dressed quickly, finishing up my makeup in the mirror.

0900: school starts in fifteen minutes.. and i'm still in line at my favourite pancake place across my apartment. i order my usual (a stack of pancakes with mushrooms, weird as it sounds) and have it to go, stuffing the plastic utensils into the bag.

0915: i arrive in class on time, laptop open and food half-eaten on the table. how, one may ask, when the school is very much half an hour away from my place? well, spiderman knows shortcuts, and i only slammed into one (1) building on the way so.. win ! my friends sit on either side of me, and eleanor steals a piece of my pancake,, as if she hasn't already devoured her breakfast minutes before.

1145: the 2h writing class is finally over (i say, as if this isn't a dream course i picked over all the other courses i could've enrolled into) and my friends and i head out for lunch. it's monday, which meant that the next class started at 2, so we could go further from campus to our favourite restaurant.

1305: i snuck away from eleanor and arlo mid-shopping to go stop a bank robbery – i should've known that my lunch could never be fully peaceful – and luckily, i made it back before they noticed i was fully missing. to them, i was just taking the longest shit known to man.

1400: time for directing class, and arlo has left eleanor and i to take his art class. it's interesting really, to go through the technical portions of what happens behind the camera when i've spent so many years of my life in front of it.

1630: and of all professors i could've gotten, i had the long-winded one who would not let us leave on time. i bid my goodbyes to my friends before going on patrol, checking in with the spider society.

1717: guess who i ran into? hobie brown. he was standing on a rooftop waiting for me as i swung a cat back to its owner, and i nearly fell when he called out for me. gods, his voice is way too attractive and distracting. my webs missed the building, and if not for my quick reflexes, i would've slammed into yet another building, as if i am some sort of rookie.

2030: so uh.. i just got home. and i didn't go to the office today. more work to be done at home i suppose. it's my fault really, i wanted to hang with hobie a little longer, which turned into talking for hours.. hey, at least we got dinner for gwen and i before i swung back here and he went back to his dimension.

2100: not to bore you with work details since it's just a whole lot of planning my schedule, tackling homework, editing magazine spreads, possible outfits and more planning for the next month's magazine.

2222: i could hear gwen in the hallway and i leave my room to say hi. she had just came back from the spider society, and i help heat up her dinner as she went to take a shower before returning to my work.

0000: well, it's midnight and i am pretty much done with work. i got distracted by youtube halfway but i've done what i could for the day and there's still school tomorrow so good night !

bonus: fit check !

>> back to the tarot reading..

[instarsanddyke]

and you dont know what to do with it

[winter-hoof]

I wish I could turn my brain off and just do shit like a normal person

[guubiiz]

heartslabyul would be named my favorite dorm if i didn’t despise riddle.

[gutsby]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot Masterlist

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five ( final)

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe- fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc, art in the banner by Yuana on X - finished! WC 42k

Playlist -preview below!- headcanons - here & here - Fratboy! Sukuna here

It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-

'You're pregnant'

You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter over three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.

For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.

You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.

'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, you were moving on to a whole different career.

'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'

'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'so greedy, huh?'

'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'

'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?'

Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...

"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...

"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.

Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?

Shit.

[hurlingdown]

                   DEAL WITH THE DEVIL !? ☆

synopsis. in a fit of jealousy, suguru makes a deal with the devil. in exchange for being the only one you would ever fuck, he would have to become a sleeve tailor made for your cock. in other words, your very personal whore. wc. 4.2k

tags. top! reader, sub! geto. reader is a dilf. brat! suguru, brat tamer! reader. hardcore dom/sub. rough anal sex, orgasm denial, switching positions (riding, missionary, doggy), sir kink, mixture of degradation & praise kink, dacryphilia, age difference, objectifying, heavy use of whore, pillow princess learns how to ride dick, cum-eating, spit kink, jealousy, subspace, blowjob, yandere! geto undertones, possessiveness.

a/n. suguru gets railed within an inch of his life. good things happen.

“I bet you had plenty fun out there,” Suguru slurred, “dancing with that pretty ‘gal. Probably forgot all about me, too—the two of you were lost in your own little world.” 

Suguru slouched over you to rest his head in the crook of your neck, thighs straining where they bracketed your hips. You could feel his every heated breath against the protrusion of your jugular vein, the sweat of his palms seeping into your skin, burning a path down to hell wherever they went. The awkward shift of his muscles as he raised himself with difficulty, only to plummet down harshly. 

There was no rhythm in the ride. No patience. No tenderness in the way he touched you, branded you with him. Suguru was pissed at you, and you knew it. 

“Suguru,” you moaned, sweaty hands settling on his hips, trying to help him ride, but he swatted your hands away every time you so touched him. At this rate, both of you were going to wake up with bruises tomorrow—and not the kind that felt good. “Fuck, baby, you’re hurting yourself. Let me.” 

He only shook his head, shivering. “Why should I,” he scoffed, “when you don’t even want me. You only want—whatever this is. You only want to fuck a hole. So here I am. A hole for you.” You could tell he was biting his lip, another shudder wracking through his body, and the sight tore into you like a contusion, making you throb. “You can close your eyes and imagine it’s her you’ve got your cock in. She’s prettier, anyway, older than me, too—maybe you’d enjoy it better.” 

“You know that’s not true,” you reasoned, swallowing down a groan as he clenched around you with a ferocity, like he wanted it to hurt. “I only danced with her because you- you were ignoring me in the first place. Please, baby. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t—don’t you fucking baby me.” Suguru lifted his head, a glare so full of hurt that it dug into you like a jagged blade. “We’re not even a thing. Y-you don’t want to make us a thing.” He swallows harshly, before muttering, “Legal enough for a few good fucks, but too young for anything real.” 

The underlying accusation made you bristle. You had never protested anything beyond this point—but this was just unfair to you. You didn’t want to make the two of you a thing? Was he fucking serious? And—too young for anything real? How many times have you reassured him that it didn’t matter to you? 

“I believe the reason why you were ignoring me in the first place,” you kept your voice quiet and steady, “was because I brought us up and like a brat, you didn’t want to talk about it. You never want to talk, Suguru. It’s never the right time to talk for you. And now you think, after I go off dancing with someone else to take my mind off the headache you’ve given me, you can act all jealous like I fucked them in front of you.” 

You knew you were going to regret your next words, but at that moment, the immature desire to teach him a lesson overshadowed any sense of rationality. The anger, the disbelief, everything made it harder to think. And you were only human. 

Suguru glowered at you almost childishly, daring you to finish. 

“And maybe I really should, next time,” you continued. “Since you don’t think I’m making any effort. Maybe someone else will appreciate it.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he whispered. 

You frowned. “Suguru—” 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” 

“Suguru,” you snapped. “Don’t raise your voice at me.” 

He froze up at your sudden switch in tone, something darker, more guttural. Something you only used when you were talking to an unruly brat in the bedroom. Suguru slowly raised his head in confusion. “What?” 

“I know you’re pissed,” you muttered. “But don’t forget whose cock you’re sitting on, right now. If you want to bring this up while we’re having sex, go ahead, but stick to the rules.” 

 “Are you fucking serious—” 

You snapped your hips up, and he moaned, a pretty, tremulous sound. Suguru turned his head to glare at you weakly, half-panting already. It was funny how you could almost reduce him to a dog in heat with merely an inch of control. 

“Yes,” you affirmed. “Now, you can either get off, throw your little tantrum, and walk out of this relationship forever; or you can be a good boy and deal with this reasonably. Which one is it?” 

He parted his lips, as though he wanted to argue, but you only levelled him with an unimpressed look. He huffed, stubbornly glancing away. 

“Well? Suguru?” 

“... Keep going,” he scowled, cheeks flushing. You blinked at him in amusement, not even bothering to bite down the snark that filled your expression at his wishful words. He frowned. “What? Move already.” 

“Oh, no. I’m not gonna do the work for you,” you drawled, hands crawling up his thighs to give them a taunting little squeeze. “See, you didn’t want to let me help you, earlier—I guess you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.” You paused, smiling at him. “Ain’t that right?” 

“Fuck you,” he spat. 

“You sure you want to keep that attitude tonight, Suguru?” 

A shiver climbs up his spine, and he shakes his head after a reluctant moment. He knew the consequences of misbehaviour. How you could take him over your lap and make him count every strike, keep him deprived of cock until he was crying and slobbering, begging for something, anything, to replace the ache of emptiness inside him. 

… And he also knew what those hands could do if he behaved himself properly. 

“I’ll be your good boy,” Suguru mumbled. “Fuck me? Please?” 

His hands curled into fists on your shoulders, and he glanced at you, almost expectant. Your hands continued to travel upwards, rubbing slow circles onto the jut of his hipbones, making him sigh in bliss. How easy it was for him to accept your affection as a sign of forgiveness. Too easy, even. 

“Let’s see how good you do by yourself, first.” 

His gaze snapped to yours in defiance, the look of a spoiled brat—and you wanted to break it. You wanted to see him sob and whimper and moan as pounded into his twitching hole, rough, violent, the way that made his eyes roll back in ecstasy and mouth part in hoarse, pleasured screams. 

“But I’ve said please already,” Suguru retorted. “You can’t expect me to—” 

“Last I remember, I gave you two choices, Suguru. You took the second one. This is the second one.” 

“Fucking asshole,” he snarled. “Fine.” 

“Language,” you chastised, but Suguru paid no mind, elbows slung over your shoulders to cage you in a half-hug, shifting on his knees to get better leverage. He rolled his hips—the way you had taught him to before, forward, go down, backward, go up. Slow circular motions that smushed your cock, in just the right angle, against the throbbing gland nesting inside him, soft moans leaving his lips. It was nothing like the careless violence before. 

This was so much better. 

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart.” Your annoying voice rang, almost a lullaby in the way it made his eyes fall lidded, a whine building at the back of his throat. His body was so attuned to receiving pleasure—it made a whole difference when the reigns were in his hands, now. Fuck. If only you could take him already.

It was good, just bearably so, for a few minutes. Suguru struggled to gain rhythm, rocking down with a little more meaning, just to feel you slide in a little deeper each time, reaching all the dirty places inside his body no one else ever could. He tried to focus on movement and control, instead of getting lost in the way your girth would massage his taut walls, as though telling him to ease up already. 

He scowled. None of this would be a problem if you weren’t so damn difficult. And stingy. 

“Shit,” he cursed, pressing his forehead against the solid grill of your shoulder. “I’m n-not gonna, hnnn, make it if you don’t… don’t d-do something.” 

Suguru could feel the tension in his hamstrings with every slow bounce, the heat curling in his distended abdomen, a tell-tale sign that he was close to teetering over the edge. He could feel your thighs flexing beneath his, and clearly it felt good for you, too, so why, why won’t you just stake your claim on his insides already and turn him into a helpless, sobbing mess, like you always do? 

“Go ahead. I never said you couldn’t come.” 

Fuck that. Of course he wanted to fucking cum—just not like this. Not when you were merely holding him like he were nothing more than another toy, built for your pleasure. Suguru could be good. He could play as your pretty little whore. Hell, he would let you use him wherever and whenever you wanted to. But there was one condition to all of this generosity. 

You were his. 

And if you were going to treat him nothing more like a fleshlight you had rented from a sex shop, something to be borrowed and returned and tossed aside, then he wasn’t going to take it quietly. 

This wasn’t fair to him, not at all. You were being unfair. 

“Look at me,” he grit out. “Look at what you’re doing to me.” 

Suguru grabbed your hand, rubbing your palm against his sticky crotch until your fingers loosely wrapped around his length, a desperate moan spilling out from him as he rutted into your grasp. It was good, but not enough. Hardly. He wanted your hands on every part of him that they could reach. He wanted more. 

To his surprise, you didn’t snap at him for breaking the rules; that, or use your age, size or his willingness to your advantage. Your grip only tightened on his twitching cock, choking a whine out of him. He lifted his head to glance at you with heady eyes, shivering at the interest in your gaze. 

It only spurred him on. 

“This,” he slurred, resting a hand on his slightly swollen stomach, “is yours.” He lifted his hips and moved his hand lower, lower, prodding at the slick-coated length that emerged underneath him with the pad of his forefinger. “Now this… this is mine. You understand?” 

Your breath hitched, arousal building rapidly at his sultry words. This was new, and not bad at all. If this was the game he wanted to play… you supposed you could play along, for now. Just to let him have his fill of fun. 

“They can look at it, touch it, even take pictures of it… but I own the only two holes that you can be inside of. Ever.” Suguru knew he was being selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t bear to ride something that didn’t belong to him—something that had been tainted by the filth of your other toys. He continued, “I can play by your rules. Be your good whore. Shut up when you tell me to. But play by mine, too.” 

“Greedy,” you snarked. “But fine.” 

He looked pleased at your easy acceptance. 

“Good. Now look at m-me, properly, when I cum on your cock.” 

You kept your word, letting him take the lead. It was obvious he was still getting used to steering with the reigns so unceremoniously thrust into his hands, but fuck, was it hot. You stroked him, your touch rough but still reverent, thumb digging into his beading slit at times, making him cry out as he rode you with renewed vigour. 

“Both hands on me,” he ordered, before hastily adding, “please.” 

He didn’t tell you where, so you put your fingers in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you panted, almost losing yourself in the way he fluttered around you tirelessly, soaking you up and taking you in. The rhythm of his bounce. The sensual roll of his hips. The obscene whimpers and shudders that sent vibrations into your body whenever he fucked himself a little too good. You loved it all. You wanted it all. If this was what you were getting in exchange for a little rule-breaking, then you would do it a thousand times over. 

Suguru was gasping, thighs twitching, moaning senselessly and drooling around your fingers, and you knew he was about to break from the pressure. Oh, well. He did a good run, for his first time. 

You let go of his cock, and he nearly screamed out in frustration. 

“No, fuck, no, no, no—” 

“But what?” you hummed, and Suguru wanted to wipe that innocent smile off your face with violence. “You said you’d cum on my cock, darling. I don’t see why you need my hands on you.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it,” he snapped. What was wrong with you? Weren’t you edging yourself, too? Wasn’t it painful for you, to be denied of release? You were being so frustrating. 

“I played by your rules, sweets.” You pressed a tender kiss to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he let out a helpless shiver. “This cock right here?” You nudged upwards to force your cockhead against his stomach walls, earning you a filthy whine. “All yours. But don’t forget. You promised to be my whore in exchange for that. Now, we don’t condone breaking promises, do we?” 

“N-no, but it doesn’t explain why you had to stop—” 

“Because I wanted to.” You let a small smile creep onto your face, relishing in the glazed look in his eye, the quiver in his bottom lip, as though he were about to cry. “Whores don’t order their owner around… unless it’s for the entertainment of their owner, of course. And right now, I’ve gotten terribly bored of it.” 

Suguru looked positively dumbfounded. But if that meant you were going to finally do something about it instead of sitting there, then he wasn’t going to argue with you. He let you maneuver him onto his back pliantly, almost coy in the way he glanced up at you through his lashes, spreading his legs for you. 

How could anyone expect him to want to protect his dignity when you looked at him like that? He wasn’t even prey, to you—something much, more lowly. An object, your possession. A confection to be devoured. You had let him at a glimpse of the power you held over him, and fuck, did it feel great to have you bending to his every whim, stroking his cock for his pleasure for once, but this… this was nothing but not a deal with the devil. True sovereignty was never in his hands. It was all an illusion. 

But if his only purpose would be reduced to a sleeve for your cock to fit into, merely for your pleasure and entertainment, then Suguru would get you so addicted to him, you’d prefer him over any other drug. 

“Please,” he begged, glossy eyes peering at you, “sir.” 

You smiled. “What do you want, Suguru?” 

“I-I want,” he said, half short of a whine, “w-want you- to take control. Please.” 

“Thought you were enjoying yourself, love.” 

Suguru knew what you wanted. To recognise his new identity—something inferior to you. Something that needed to depend on you to survive. 

“I- am- but, mmph, my legs h-hurt.” The glance he gave you, then, sent a shock straight into your chest. He breathed out a quiet confession, the killer blow, “I need you to put me in my place, sir. Please.” 

Your grin grew crooked, hands finally settling on the thick of his hips for the perfect leverage to thrust, and Suguru knew, then, that he had fucking won. 

The first smack of your hips against his ass had him keening. It stung, especially how he was bruised all over from riding you too hard, earlier—but the sharp zing of pleasure coursing through him made up for it a hundred times over. He wrapped his arms around your neck needily, fingers curling into your hair to keep you close, as close as you could be with your cock stuffed inside him. 

“Sir!” he sobbed, legs going around your hips as he trembled in ecstasy, moaning, gasping for breath, because finally, fucking finally, you were here in his arms, giving hell to his insides just the way he liked it. “Yes, yes, mmh, yes, sir—” 

All he could do was breathe. 

“So loud,” you cooed. “Poor thing.” 

“C-can't help- mnh, it,” Suguru whimpered, his body jerking weakly with every thrust. He squeezed his eyes shut for the briefest of moments, sobbing with pleasure as you took him again and again, the weight and heat of your body pinning him down completely, consummately, caging his lithe one, and he loved it. “W-wanted this- for soo long. You- always f-fuck me so- good, sir.”  

“Yeah? Why were you so stubborn, then?” you leered down at him, “Being all tough, snapping at me—acting like you had it. You really had your fun, didn’t you.” 

“‘m so- sorry,” he moaned, eyes rolling back. “W-won’t do i-it again.” 

Your smile grew wider at that. “What a good whore,” you sighed in appreciation, tilting his head by the chin to examine his tear-streaked face. “Pretty, too. Not all whores look pretty when they cry. You’re one of a kind, Suguru.” 

“Sir- you’re- ah, haa, t-thank you, sir,” he panted, whimpering as you pinched one of his nipples, “‘s all ‘cause- of y-you, sir. you make- make me feel- s-so good.” 

“Good to know.” You smoothed a hand over the red and purple blossoming on his pecs from the assault you had subjected them to, your sweat dripping onto his body with every jostle and thrust. “Now shut up for a bit and take it, yeah?” 

Suguru nodded frantically, eyes half-lidded as he gazed up at you. He was getting close again, the excitement in his belly churning tenfold in this new position that had him feeling every sensation of you pulsing inside him, now that he didn’t need to divert his attention elsewhere. Fuck. He couldn’t even remember why he was mad at you in the first place. He cried out as you thrusted meanly, cock grating against his prostate, his legs tightening around your waist in reflex. 

And then you pulled out with a devilish smirk. 

Suguru sobbed out, voice breaking in parts, the sound loud and desperate. “Please, s-sir. I- I was going- I was about to- ” 

“I know,” you crooned. “Told you to shut up, didn’t I?” 

He nodded pliantly, but he couldn’t hold in a whimper, soft and needy. You couldn’t help but admire the sight beneath you, despite the pain-pleasure inside you of yet another ruined orgasm—his eyes were shiny with tears, skin flushed prettily and bruised around the chest and waist, back arched as he desperately tried to get you to move. 

“Turn around for me, sweet thing.” You pressed a kiss to his wet cheek, trying to soothe him. “I know you can do that. You were so good for me just now, baby… I’m so proud of you. I’m sure a teensy little more is nothing to you, mm?” 

Suguru nodded again, rolling onto his stomach sluggishly. He was getting tired, stars drifting past with every slow, dreamy blink, body drained by the way you fucked it like it was something unbreakable. 

He pressed his face into your pillow, inhaling sharply at the scent of your musk filling his every breath, whining as you gripped his hips and tugged him backwards, the head of your cock rubbing against his puffy rim. There was nothing, absolutely nothing else worth his attention on at the moment, the world fading to a trifling blur under your touch. 

The only sounds he could hear were your heavy pants against his shoulder blades, the chanting of fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me in the distant back of his mind, making his insides melt with the desire to be taken. There was no more Suguru. There was only a hole in his place. 

He could feel his eyes drooping, soft breaths luring him to sleep, but out of the cloud of smoke and haze, you were there, a steady presence behind him, the warmth of your calloused palms branding his hips and thighs guiding him back to reality. 

“Let’s remind ourselves,” you husked, your voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket of safety amid the static. “Who are you to me, Suguru?” 

He breathed out a moan, then answered without thinking. “Yours- only yours.” 

“Specifics, baby. Let’s try again.” 

He tried to shift back onto you—even an inch would do, with how desperate he was, but your hand on his hip held him in place. You huffed out a laugh as he turned his head to frown cutely at you. “Your- your property,” he tried again. “Your plaything.” 

“Better,” you praised, “but they’re not what I’m looking for. What else?” 

Suguru knew what you wanted to hear, but he just couldn’t recall at that moment—it was too much, the edging, the scent of you everywhere, the exhaustion, the hot sweaty press of your chest against him, your big hands on his body, your cock rubbing between his thighs. All of it was making his head blank. 

He whimpered helplessly, wanting to turn to you for help, but you kept him in that same humiliating position, as though it were a common whore you were breeding and not him—

“Whore,” he gasped. “I’m your whore.” 

You grinned, then, sharp and pleased, and Suguru could almost cry at the relief he felt. “And what do good whores do, mm?” 

He sobbed, “Good whores take what they’re given… and say thank you.” 

“Good,” you repeated, breathless. “Very good, Suguru.” 

You positioned yourself properly this time, tapping the head of your cock wetly against his entrance just to hear him whine, before entering him with a heavy, careless thrust—to the very brim. 

Suguru buried his face into the pillow, practically screaming. He fisted the bedsheets, head swimming with the sudden burst pleasure overwhelming his senses, the pleasure of being taken, used, like property you had paid for; the pleasure of you picking him, of all people, to be the one you wanted to play with. All the toys in the aisle and you had chosen him. 

He’d gladly be your personal whore. 

“Now,” you prompted with a drawl, “what do we say, mm?” 

“T-thank you, sir,” Suguru whined, “Thank you so- soo much.” 

“Well done,” you breathed, carding a hand through his long, silky hair—before pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail and yanking him up by it, roughly. You ignored his startled whine, taking a second to admire the shape of your cock jutting out from his now exposed abdomen—before towing him backwards, slowly, until his back settled against your chest. 

You could feel his frame quivering against yours. Where was his confidence? The attitude, the jealousy? Guess you had fucked him so good he had forgotten everything else but his only purpose in life—to offer up his holes for your pleasure. 

“Open up, whore,” you whispered. 

Suguru didn’t need to be told twice. He fluttered his lashes, parting his lips for you, breath hitching as you collected a ball of spit, letting it drizzle slowly, obscenely, from your mouth to the waiting hole beneath you. You snapped his jaws shut, making sure you heard the audible swallow before you let go. 

“Thank you,” he whimpered. You smiled. You had such a good-mannered whore. 

He snivelled when he felt a hand enclose his cock—the poor thing so hard it was almost purple, lovingly stroking him. Tears slid down his cheeks freely as soft moans and pants spilled unbidden. He sobbed out brokenly, body jerking in your arms as his cock gave a weak, helpless spurt, the orgasm washing over him in cathartic waves. 

“T-thank you,” he panted, glancing up at you with pretty, moist eyes. 

Suguru only let out a feeble whine as you slowly slid out of him, clenching and gaping from the emptiness, placing him back on all fours. He clutched the sheets with trembling hands as something wet tapped on his cheek, and he opened his mouth without much thought. 

“My pretty whore,” you praised, and put your cock in his mouth. The warm gush of cum down his throat had him choking out a beautiful sound of gratitude. 

Suguru had been stupid to think he could ever get the upperhand in a deal with the devil. But that was all he was now, wasn’t he? A stupid, pretty whore, only ever good for taking cock. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought, with a mouthful of cum and more trickling down the side of his chin. 

Maybe he was always meant to be like this. 

Maybe what he needed was your guidance, all along.

masterlist!

[reidrum]

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

A/N: if i stared at this any longer it would never see the light of day...so here she is! this is the longest fic i've ever written and i'm kinda gagged about that but i really hope you like it and if you don't that's okay too this is just silly angsty brainrot anyways thanks for reading this my inbox is open if you wanna yap more summary: in which your kidnapping forces you and spencer to face the fallout following your recently ended relationship cw: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is kidnapped/held hostage, implications and mentions of SA to reader but nothing happens, cm type violence, ex!spencer, lowkey lovers to enemies back to lovers, cat adams, medical jargon, miscommunication trope, the bau team is family, afab!reader, pet names wc: 5.1k

Every case you and Spencer have been on has been insufferable for the rest of the team since your falling out, if it had to be given a name. Everyone always had to deal with your constant bickering and harsh words. It was the same in every case, a difference of opinions that led to incessant fighting between you two, Hotch would have to separate you both and use your joint intelligence separately for the sake of keeping everyone alive.

This last case was nothing different, a serial killer in Athens, Georgia who was religiously sacrificing young women in the name of a cult. Both of you fighting over what you believed the other to be wrong about in their part for solving the case. Spencer thought the unsub would have struck in a zone closer to his home, you assumed he was only going after women who resembled someone in his life. The real problem was that you were both wrong.

And it ended with you being held hostage.

It all happened so fast. You were in the car with Spencer and Rossi driving out to the unsub’s house to check for new evidence when you had stopped at a gas station about 15 miles out from the house to refuel. Rossi got out of the car to pump the gas, Spencer sat in the passenger seat, and you went inside to use the bathroom and grab a quick snack.

You quickly washed your hands after finishing in the bathroom and wiped your hands on your pants, still slightly damp as you turn the handle of the door. As you’re perusing the aisle looking for a snack, you can feel the presence of watchful eyes on you. Casually, you slowly look up and around at the source and clock a figure an aisle over with a cap turned downward blocking their face. 

Your gut was sending flares up, telling you that danger was near. You nonchalantly walk over to the aisle he’s in, pretending to look at the nuts and dried fruits while attempting to get a look at his face. In a (maybe not so) bright idea, you think to knock a bag of nuts on the floor next to the lurker’s feet in the hopes he’ll bend down to pick it up for you.

With a push of your hand, the bag knocks off the shelf and onto the floor and you both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m such a clutz.”

“No problem at all, Miss—.” He stops talking all of a sudden, you’re unsure why. You follow his gaze to your left hip where your FBI credentials are peaking out.

Shit.

He draws a weapon faster than you’re able to react with getting your own out, and by the time yours is out the barrel of his is flush with your forehead.

“Drop it.”

You quickly recognize the man as your unsub, miles away from his hunting ground and about to stray from his victimology with you.

“Come on, up. We’re going for a little ride.” He snarls, glancing outside at the black SUV with your colleagues. He grabs you by a hairful and drags you out the back door, shooting the gas station clerk before making the escape with you to his pickup truck. You’re shoved against the car door, back facing him, as he place a zip tie on your wrists and opens the door to sit you in the back seat. The unsub gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, glaring at you through the rear view mirror, “I’m gonna have fun with you, fed.”

Meanwhile, back in the car Rossi stands at the pump waiting for the tank to fill and Spencer remains in the car looking over the case details once more. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, but can’t place his finger on it. He looks over the details again meticulously, searching for a fault anywhere in your, or even his own logic. Rossi closes the tank and hops back in the car, “She’s not back yet?” he pondered.

Spencer hadn’t even realized you weren’t back yet, “I guess not,” something wasn’t right, “She went ten minutes ago right?”

Rossi nods, opening his mouth to speak when a gunshot coming from the gas station cuts him off. The men look at each other, eyes widened and rush out of the car, weapons drawn.

“FBI!” Rossi enters, looking for any sign of you but coming up empty. Spencer takes note of the disheveled store, produce and cans lying astray. He steps around the mess to find an out of place bag of sour gummy worms on the floor in the middle of an aisle only filled with nuts and dried fruit. 

Sour gummy worms were your favorite.

A sinking feeling settles in Spencer as he tries to fight the reality his brain is trying to tell him. He looks to Rossi with a pained expression, and Rossi matches it back.

“He took her.”

___

The next few hours are a blur for Spencer.

Rossi called the team to meet them at the gas station, already telling Garcia to hack into the security cameras to find any clue of where he’d taken you. Emily and Derek were checking out the crime scene, Hotch and Rossi talking to the sheriff. JJ finds Spencer staring off onto the one road connected to the station.

“We’re gonna find her, Spence.”

He whips his head up at the sound of her voice, “I should’ve realized sooner. I knew there was something off about his MO, a—and I just couldn’t place it. And now she’s gone and it’s all my fault and I never—“

“Spencer,” JJ interrupts softly, “You couldn’t have known. None of us did, even her.”

“I should have,” he laments, “And if she…if something happens to her because I wasn’t paying attention…” He trails off, too afraid of what his brain thinks is the ending of the sentence.

JJ offers him a sympathetic look, understanding the conflicting emotions, “We’ll find her, she’s strong. You know that.”

He stares back at her hoping, praying, that she’s right and you’re going to be okay. You have to be.

He’s pulled out of his head by Morgan calling him and JJ over, telling Garcia on the phone to repeat her findings.

“Okay, I think I have a lead based on the security camera footage on the car he has and where it’s been last seen. I’m sending the last known coordinates to your phones now.” 

An idea springs to him, “Garcia, can you also check the gas station records and see how much he filled his tank?”

The clacking sounds of her keyboard ring through the phone before she speaks again, “He didn’t fill a full tank, only like, fifteen miles worth of gas.”

Everyone looks up at each other in realization of what the new information means. You had to be close by. Morgan walks over to tell Hotch, who immediately talks to a state ranger about setting up a 15 mile radius around the gas station with monitored roadblocks, no entry or exit without inspection. 

After Hotch finishes he walks back to Spencer and lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good job, Reid,” He nods back with a thin lipped smile and fiddles with his pen anxiously, “Are you okay?”. Spencer can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking him or if he’s asking him for the sake of him being able to do his job properly considering the circumstances. Ever the profiler that man is, he thinks.  He nods again nonetheless and walks over to meet Derek at the car.

Spencer and Derek get into the car and set the route for the coordinates Garcia gave, ETA 14 minutes. He swallows nervously, do you even have 14 minutes? What if he’s too late? What if you’re not even there? What if he never got to tell you—

“Reid. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Derek raises his eyebrows as he glances at his friend, “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, man.”

“I’m not lying.” Even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Spencer—“

“I’m just worried! Okay? We’re all worried, it’s not a big deal.” he snaps.

Derek stops at a red light and looks over the console, “I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” guilt sweeps over Spencer’s face as he continues, “I’m not stupid kid, I know how you’re feeling. But you can’t let whatever turmoil you got in that big brain of yours affect this case. Not now.”

“I know that, Morg—“

“No, you don’t. I know you’re thinking about her, we all are. And we all want—need—her to be okay too. We will find her, but we can’t let the unsub get away too.”

Spencer sighs outwardly seeing the truth in his words. As concerned as he was about you he needed to remember this was still an active case. He couldn't let your past with each other cloud his judgement, even if the fallout still haunts him every day of his life. He needs to save you, but he also has a job to do. He just wasn’t sure if he’d remember that when they finally found you.

——

A pounding in your head stirs you awake, the bitter taste of metal flooding your senses as you come to. You blink a few times adjusting to the lowlights of the unfamiliar environment, hoping to find something distinguishable to ground you back to reality. It doesn’t help once you realize the blood crusted over your eye is the reason for your obscured vision. You attempt to rub it off on your shoulder ignoring the sharp pains shooting up from the abrasive contact. 

Once you think you’ve cleared enough you blink a few more times registering your surroundings to be a house, a cabin more accurately. Your memory is a little fuzzy as you try to recount what happened before you were knocked out cold.

Gas station. Unsub. Unsub at the gas station? But where was I…I went to the bathroom… and was getting…gummy worms?… But Rossi and Spencer were just outside… now I’m here…so does that means the unsub—

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

You jolt at the voice—the unsub you’ve come to remember—and you realize your hands are tied up behind your back, quickly coming to the second realization that you are rendered both injured and immobile.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say hoarsely after a minute.

He chuckles, “I didn’t know they made them so pretty at the academy…” he walks over and kneels in front of you, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb to move your head, “They probably kept you around for…entertainment right?”

You whip your head, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh, you’re feisty. That’s good, keep it up. Makes this more fun.” he walks back over to the table and fiddles with something, you can’t really tell from the floor, “So how’d they make it work back in—what is it called—Quantico! They take turns with you or? There’s so many of y’all, probably had a system.”

The pounding in your head makes it more difficult to process anything he’s saying, “The hell are you talking about, take turns with what?” you ask, wincing through another wave of pain.

He turns around holding a metal rod and walks over, angling the rod under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his as he snarls, “I can’t wait to see how it feels to fuck a federal whore.”

All the color drains from your face and you kick into whatever gas is left in your autopilot. Your feet are flailing in every direction, body thrashing violently to prevent Jason from getting a good grip on you. You quickly learn the purpose of the metal rod hearing the clang! first, a millisecond passing before the pain and threat of unconsciousness spreads through your brain. 

The hit takes you out long enough for him to pin you down on the floor, the weight of his body landing on you before the metal rod goes for your limbs. It’s then you realize the throes of death have wrangled you for what appears to be the last time, and it’s probably wise to start saying—thinking— your final words.

To my parents, I love you. To Derek and Penelope, thank you for letting me third wheel with you. Emily, I’ll miss our weekend Sin City excursions. JJ, please give your boys the biggest hug from their favorite aunt. Rossi and Hotch, you always cared for me like I was your own—I am so grateful for you.

And Spencer…Oh, Spencer. How I hoped I would have the time to say I’m sorry for what happened, I hope you’ll forgive me in due time. I wish I told you that nothing about us ever changed for me. You were and will always be, My Spencer, I just wish I could tell you one more time how much I lov—“

“FBI, Drop your weapon!”

A clattering sound of something dropping rings directly next to your ear and the weight that was on you alleviates at the same time. You groan out and instinctively curl up on yourself, the pain spreading throughout your body. The sensory overload is so much you don’t hear the approaching figure crouching next to you.

“Hey Hey Hey,” Spencer stutters, quickly making work of the ties on your hands and holding you gently as he lays your head on his lap cradling you close, trying to hide the forming tears when he hears your whimpers of pain, “You’re okay, it’s okay. The medic’s coming.” He looks back to where the unsub was and watches Derek put him in cuffs, nodding at Spencer before walking out with Jason.

“…Spencer?” you whisper out weakly. You think you’re dreaming honestly, that in the wake of death you learn heaven isn’t a place but only his arms.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” he chokes out looking back down at your bruised face. He’s unsure how you still look angelic even when you’re hurt, but it doesn’t surprise him that you do. You were always good at defying the laws of nature, he prayed it extended to your immortality.

“It hurts.” you pout pathetically.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes gently, “I know it does, honey I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers tearfully.

You cough out and whimper in pain, “I’m sorry too.”

Spencer shakes his head vehemently, “No, don’t apologize. Don’t do that, just keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

The tiredness soon wins and your eyes flutter close. Before Spencer can even panic and beg you to open them again the medic finally comes and asks him—pulls him— to move so they can start working on you.

He reluctantly backs up and watches on with glossed over eyes, barely registering all the things they were sticking in you to wake you up. The medics stabilize your neck with a C-SPINE and lift you onto the gurney, wheeling you back to the ambulance. The same medic who asked Spencer to move comes up to him again, “We’re taking her to Georgetown Medical, you’re allowed to ride in the back with us if you want.”

You slowly come to again on the gurney and Spencer meets your open eyes before you even realize they’re on you. Without hesitation he says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

The medic team lifts your gurney inside the rig, and right before Spencer gets in he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Hotch, “You’ll be okay?” 

It’s a loaded question. He’s not asking if Spencer is okay at this moment, because it doesn’t take a profiler to see that he’s the farthest from it. He says it as a grounding reminder knowing how Spencer gets about you. It didn’t matter to the team if you both fell out, the pair of you never faltered in your subconscious for each other. Both of your actions always moved faster than your brains, especially when it involved the other. 

That’s what worried his Unit Chief.

He nods and Hotch gives his shoulder a light squeeze, “Keep us updated,” the concern clearly etched in his eyes breaking through his usual stoicism as he looks inside the rig, “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Under the bright lights of the ambulance he’s—unfortunately—able to really take inventory of the injuries you sustained. The blue and black bruising scattered your limbs, the congregation of it on your stomach telling him you have at least two broken ribs. His eyes trail further down your body before abruptly stopping, but not on an appendage.

Spencer’s face pales even further than it already has staring at the glint on the undone button of your trousers shining in the reflection of the light.

If they didn’t get there when they did…If he got to you a second later…He can’t even fathom to think about what would’ve happened.

He’s broken out of his spiral by the EMT sitting next to him offering a tissue, which is when Spencer feels the tear and snot streaks rolling down his face. He takes it and wipes his face mindlessly before muttering, “Can I just…” hands reaching out to you before his words come out. Spencer doesn’t notice the EMT tearing up as he gently buttons your pants.

——

You were a fighter.

At least, that’s what the doctors told Spencer when they came and updated him in the waiting room. He blanks out for most of the conversation, eyes unfocusing and ears on low lest your name be spoken.

“She’s stable and awake now, the nurse can take you back to see her.”

He shakes his head to recenter and mutters a thank you before following the nurse through the double white doors. His senses are heightened as he walks closer to your room. The scuff of his shoes on the linoleum floors, the pedantic beeping of machines in the rooms he passes, until he hears the only voice that’s ever been enough to calm the warzone in his mind.

“Hi, Spence.”

His feet move on their own accord right next to your bedside, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. He’s silent for the first couple minutes, just a faint sniffle here and there before he takes a seat near your bed and hears you speak again.

“You can touch me, Spence. I won’t break more than I already am.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides quickly, “It’s not a joke.”

“Well, someone should be the comedic relief here.”

He lays the tips of his fingers right on top of the tips of yours, “You could have died.”

Your face softens, “I didn’t though.”

“You could have.”

“Spencer—“

“Stop down playing it. You don’t know what it was like finding you like that.”

“I mean I have some idea, ‘cause like, I was there.” 

Spencer deadpans at your poor attempt at lightening the mood, a faint smile peaking through while he shakes his head, “Insufferable even at your deathbed.”

“Yeah, the Grim Reaper heard me yapping and said ‘keep her’.”

He chuckles softly as his hand moves further up to rest the front of his palm on the back of your hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve…been better. The doctor said one of my broken ribs punctured an artery, a big one apparently,” you flip your hand over so both of your palms are touching but not laced, you softly continue, “Told me I was lucky I came in when I did. Any later the internal bleeding would’ve spread to my lungs.”

Spencer feels the tears springing again and a lump forming in his throat, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” the pet name slipping out before he could realize, “I should’ve gotten there sooner, or realized something was wrong at the gas station.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. You saved my life.” your fingers intertwine with his and squeeze with whatever strength you can muster, which isn’t a lot and it makes his heart clench tighter. “I’m here.”

He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked in, “You’re here.”

“I didn’t forget what you promised me when we…broke up,” God you wish it didn’t sound so terminable as it did, “I knew you’d find me. You always do.”

Another sniffle leaves him as he rubs his thumb soothingly on your hand, “I always do…Look, there’s something I need to tell you—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Penelope & Company burst into your room bearing balloons, chocolates, and many, many stuffies.

“How’s our girl doing?” Penelope huffs, hauling an entire Hallmark catalog worth of gifts in tow.

“She’s doing fine, Penny.” you chuckle lightly, trying your best to hide the wince of pain from your side, “You did not need to do all this.”

“Nonsense, everyone knows bear stuffies are the real medicine of the world.” she gleefully ignores the nurse onlookers, “I also brought you this, of special request by someone who shall not be named.” From her back she produces a bag of your favorite candy—sour gummy worms. A fact that you knew only one person was privy to.

You act surprised nonetheless, “My favorite! Thank you, Penny. And all of you, for coming to see my crippled self.”

Spencer watches the team take turns doting on you. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit with you for about four Gilmore Girls episodes—another lost relic of modern medicine, according to Penny—after which Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch keep you company for a little bit before bidding you good night with forehead kisses and well wishes. Spencer stays with you the whole time, never once leaving your side. 

You are so loved, he thinks. He didn’t realize how much he liked watching you be loved. It makes him miss the times when he could do that for you too.

——

Weeks pass since the day of your kidnapping. You still find it weird to call it that, even though it’s literally what happened. You’ve been on house arrest—bed rest—begrudgingly, and while Penelope’s very glittery visiting schedule has kept you entertained, it’s been hard when the only person you really wanted to see has refused to come visit since you left the hospital.

You’ve asked Penelope why Spencer hasn’t come, and all she can offer you is a sad smile and a ‘He said something come up sweetie, sorry.’. Texting him seemed even more daunting, more because you weren’t about to beg for his attention if he obviously doesn’t want you to have it. 

The doorbell steals your attention and you glance over at the schedule before you walk over to open it, not expecting a visitor at this time.

Spencer looks up from his shoes hearing the door open, “Hey.”

A minute passes, “Why are you here?” you ask bluntly.

He looks confused, “I came to check on you, brought you takeout from the Indian place you like.” The food in his hand smells heavenly but you can’t seem to enjoy it yet without getting an answer.

“Why are you here, now?” you ask again with an addendum.

He either really wants to piss you off or his ear blew out on the way over but he chooses to ignore you and enter your apartment, “You having nightmares again?”

“What? No…” you lie poorly, straightening up your back, “Just tired.”

He chuckles, “Good to know you’re still a terrible liar. Did you know you wear Doctor Who shirts when you’re feeling anxious?”

Your brows fuddle in confusion but he elaborates, “It’s probably subconscious, something you find comforting and naturally gravitate to in times of distress. It’s a normal stress response but…you’re wearing an Eleventh Doctor shirt.” My Eleventh Doctor shirt, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you feign.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he nods, “But you are anxious aren’t you?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on, why are you here, really?” your eyes narrow, arms crossing defensively.

“I told you, I came to check on you.”

“You just woke up this morning and decided it was convenient for you to see me today?” Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You stare at him with tearful eyes and the emotion spills out of you before you can stop it. You speak again after a few moments, voice barely above a whisper, “You left me. Again.”

He tilts his head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you grit out, “You were rooted at my bedside the entire time I was hospitalized, and the second I was discharged you were nowhere to be found. I thought, maybe with Penny’s schedule you’d come by, but then I came to find out that you didn’t even put your name down.”

“You almost died!” he retorts, “You almost died, because I made a mistake and you got hurt because of it!”

“So, that gives you the right to abandon me for the second time?”

“I didn’t…” he sighs out roughly, “I didn’t abandon you. I just, couldn’t…face you.” Face you, in pain, as a result of his actions.

“Is that what happened the first time you left?” you bite back.

His eyes steel over, “That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You know why I left.”

“I don’t think I do, Spencer—”

“I left because I was putting you in danger!” he yells cutting you off, “I left because loving you meant dragging you into all the messed up stuff that happens to me, stuff that’ll keep happening to me.”

Tobias. Mexico. Cat.

A single tear rolls down your face, “That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. We work the same damn job, the risks are the same if we’re together or not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then fucking enlighten me, Spencer.”

He stares at you, fighting an internal battle of whether he was really willing to admit his truth to you, one that he knows you deserved to know but wasn’t sure if it would put you more in harm's way.

“Cat had details about your family.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. Your face drops, “Wh—What?”

His eyes dart around the room nervously, “After I got out of Millburn and we went to see Cat, she was trying all these tactics to get me to break. I was doing fine, until she started talking about you. She was saying things that only you told me, stuff that’s not even on record.”

You remember that day. You were supposed to go with him and JJ to the correctional facility but ended up stuck at the BAU because your skill set was more valuable in helping Penelope locate Mr. Scratch. You remember how he came back to you that day, distant and glassed over. It was easy to chalk up his behavior following it to his recent release, but when you woke up a few weeks later to an empty bed and a throwaway note saying ‘I’m sorry.”, you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why all of a sudden you didn’t exist to him, like you didn’t matter.

“I made a choice, one that I knew would protect you.”

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” you snap.

“I had to,” he says lowly, taking a step closer to you, “If being with me puts your safety at risk…” another step, “I’d rather live in a world where you hate me and are still here…” one more step, “Than one where you loved me and died because of it.” he manages to choke out, taking one final step towards you.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the soft whistle of the breeze coming from your open window. The resolve in you has long faded, leaving behind nothing but the skin on your bones to weather the damage. It makes sense to you why he did what he did, and you don’t know if the roles were reversed would you do the same thing. But you knew that you loved him and he loved you, and that alone should have been enough.

You can’t help but let out a whine, sounding like a petulant child, “That’s not fair, Spence.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” he softly whispers.

Your whine turns into a cry, “That, all of this. The fall on your sword act in which you decide what’s best for me is to leave me stranded, thinking I did something wrong that made you stop loving me.”

He steps forward a little more, his face mere inches from your own, “You think I stopped loving you?”

“Was I supposed to think otherwise? You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as me.”

His hands raise to gently cup your face, thumbs positioned under your eyes to wipe the fallen tears. He’s missed looking into your eyes as close as he is. For a man who doesn’t believe in religion he’s pretty certain the gates of heaven lie within your irises.

“I was selfish,” he swallows, “I wanted to keep you safe but I did so in a way that I felt was most logical, which turned out to be so fucking wrong regardless since you still got hurt.”

He brings your face impossibly closer, the warmth of his breath gently hitting your face.

“There isn’t a waking moment where I don’t love you. Even when we weren’t together, I still looked out for you and I made sure you were safe in ways I couldn’t tell you. I meant what I said. I told you I’d find you in every lifetime. I love you, in every lifetime, angel girl.”

The ache in your heart only grows with his words, reminding you that he always was and will forever be, Your Spencer.

“You can’t do that again,” you stutter out through tiny sobs, “You need to tell me what’s going on, whatever it is. We figure it out together.”

He nods softly, the hair on his forehead faintly brushing up on yours, “We figure it out together. I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” his lips press a long kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”

You rise on your toes to meet your lips with his, the missed time and unspoken words flowing silently between you both. His hands wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush to his chest, with yours entangling with the brown curls you had missed so much.

Finally back in his arms, you sigh with exhaustion and relief, “You’re here.”

“I’m here, honey.”

[megumimania]

OH BABY! — spencer reid

summary: spencer finds out why you’ve been so avoidant with him lately when it comes to having kids.

pairings: spencer reid x afab!reader

warnings/tags: mentions of pregnancy and children, spencer has baby fever, fluff, angst (somewhat), no use of y/n

a/n: tried something new with the layout dk how to feel about it, finally releasing another fic from the drafts!! the latter half of this fic was written at 5am so it’s not proofread—this was supposed to be lighthearted oops!

spencer’s dropping hints and you’re not so sure if you want to pick them up.

at first it was subtle, he’d send you videos of babies and kittens interacting—normal, typical right? then you noticed that look in his eyes when you played with henry and michael, preferring to enjoy the scene quietly with a cup of earl grey as he looked on contently.

you couldn’t miss the obvious way he looked at baby clothes with such fondness, talking about a future where’d he be chasing after a bunch of screaming, scraggling children instead of unsubs. your heart bloomed knowing that he saw you in his future, but that didn’t quell the slight anxiety in your stomach.

luckily life got in the way and the baby talk died down, with mentions of case files and paperwork taking up your nightly conversations over dinner and you were relieved, preferring to hear about spencer’s day or time in a different state for a case just like he enjoyed to hear about your day in return.

however you knew that eventually this conversation would come back into the fold.

“we never really finished our conversation,” he said one night, lazily tracing patterns on your thigh. you racked through your mind the topic you’d been skirting around for weeks was now being brought up and now there was no escaping it.

he doesn’t prod or rush, allowing you to lead the conversation—after all it was and is your choice. you put your laptop aside and sink into his touch, the quiet intimacy of it all allowing you to have the moment to think quietly for the first time in weeks.

“about having kids?” you respond, you voice a little more quiet, the gravity of the possible future finally weighing on you. spencer notices your change in tone and his gaze softens slightly, he feels like he’s struck a nerve and doesn’t know how to make you feel at ease.

he’s noticed you’ve been off lately. particularly when it comes to the subject of kids. the way you’d shut down and look uncomfortable when the topic is brought up. he spotted all of your tells (one of the perks of knowing you for so long) the slight change in pitch, the way you fidgeted with your fingers, the way you’d tense up as if your body was preparing for an attack.

yet he didn’t push, despite the voice in his head screaming for him to but he knew better than to push and prod, it wouldn’t yield any good results for either of you. so he chose to give you space. he tried to fill the uncomfortable silence here and there with a random piece of pop culture he learned from penelope or he’d send a link to an interesting article he’d read and thought you’d like.

the little acts like those that showed he still loved and supported you irregardless of what you were going through, is what helped calmed his own anxieties down a little but it still didn’t entirely erase them.

“im sorry, I’ve really scatterbrained as of late. work’s just ramped up a bit more ever since we had that department meeting a couple of weeks ago.” you tell him. which was partially the truth, spencer knew of how’d stressed you were about that meeting. he remembered how you were telling him about feeling a sense impending doom that he tried to talk you out of on the drive to work.

but that meeting had happened a couple of months ago, not in recent weeks.

he was incredibly concerned now but decided to come back to it later. he made mental notes to buy some vitamins and ensure you were eating and staying hydrated and if things got worse, he had your physician on speed dial.

“baby, are you okay?” he asks you, gently facing you towards him. you try to put on a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you try and calm him down, knowing that his mind was probably racing at a million miles per hour.

“i’m fine spence, just tired.” you yawn as you leaned against his shoulder, your body feeling heavy with exhaustion. spencer was not convinced at all, it was worrying him how evasive you were about everything as of late. he softly rubbed your back as he felt you finally relax for what seemed like the first time in days.

“you know you can tell me anything right, hm?” he murmurs in your ear softly as if the walls could hear him too. he felt your body move once more as you tried to make yourself more comfortable in his embrace and when you were, you finally spoke making eye contact with him.

“spence, you know i want to have kids with you more than anything—i mean you’re the only person who’d i want to do this with and i like talking about the hypotheticals but what happens when the kid is actually here? what will happen to us?”

and for the fifth time in his life spencer walter reid was stunned. the usual answer that he had ready in his back pocket could no longer be found. sure, he could rattle off studies about parental relationships post pregnancy or offer words of comfort to you but they weren’t that effective. it wouldn’t prepare either of you for the potential shift in your relationship that would occur once that baby would come into the picture.

“i don’t know.” he replied with a sigh as he affectionately squeezes your hand in his. “but what i do know is that we will make great parents together, you won’t be alone in this i promise. yeah we’ll fuck up at times or we’ll argue with each other but as long as we continue to love,cherish and respect one another and extend that same love to our future children, we’ll be okay.”

spencer’s words are reassuring, to say the least. the niggling doubts in the back of your mind threaten to dispel the sense of comfort you feel, reeling you back to your anxious state with the worst possible outcomes in mind. yet spencer’s words and subsequently his love for you is what you choose to cling onto in spite of all else because unlike the horrors and fears your mind conjured up for you like a sleeping draught, spencer’s love was real, it was tangible.

“what if we’re not talking about the hypothetical future…what if it’s real?” a voice that seems to be yours asks but it’s smaller, you hate how fragile you sound as if any single thing could shatter you into million pieces. spencer doesn’t look at you with judgment, he listens trying to follow your line of thought.

it takes him a split second to register what you were saying before he looks at you his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “you don’t mean that you’re…” he asks and you nod, the future that he’d talked about in length and thought about often was soon approaching and it was kinda surreal to think about.

and now everything made sense, the brain fog, the fatigue, the aversion to talking about kids, your lack of appetite when it came to certain foods or smells—it all made sense and he was even more annoyed that he failed to compute it all sooner, knowing how scared you must’ve felt about it all.

before he knows it hot tears stream down your face and he is at the ready, wiping them away with gentle loving words and kisses and you feel a sense of warmth flooding you. knowing that you picked no better person to love and raise your kid.it makes you, ever the skeptic, believe in fate somewhat. who knew a random coffee shop encounter on a rainy wednesday morning would lead to this down the line?

“i love you and im sorry for keeping this from you.” you sniffle as you try to gather yourself together but its no use as you break down again and spencer is ready to catch you. he feels awful seeing you cry like this.

“you don’t have to apologise.” he murmurs into your hair as he pulls you into his embrace, letting you cry into his shirt. he knows that it will be damp with tears and snot soon and he should probably give you a tissue to get everything out but it wasn’t the right time. now he was focusing on giving all the love and support you needed at that moment, to make up for the times he wasn’t there.

however later that night when you were asleep, he’d be up busy researching the best foods, hospitals, supplies, and mom and baby support groups so that these next nine months and the months that followed post partum would be less of a bumpy ride for the pair of you.

and he may have bought a quantum physics for babies book in his excitement but he couldn’t help it, even though this pregnancy came as a surprise he was ready to be the best partner to you and father to the baby that he could ever be.

[msfantasy-comics]

Dream

Tim Drake x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: an erotic short story where you tell your best friend Tim Drake about your hook-up with Red Robin.

Warning: Smut, depiction of sex.

“I’m serious Tim! I’m really not sure how it got to this point. But last night …”

One moment you bumped into Red Robin, star struck and nervous, you anxiously beg for a photo with him.

Next minute, he has your hips tilted up in a sharp angle, his own hips snapping sporadically into your bouncing ass as you sputter and beg for Red Robin to cum in you.

The unequivocally pleasure he’s pounding into you, has you unbothered at being on your hands and knees in some dirty back alley.

The nerves in your body fizz and spark as your overstimulated organ begins to clench tightly, you thighs become uncomfortably wet, but the sensation of Red Robin bullying his cock into you swollen g-spot has you brain dead.

All words fall flat on your limp tongue. Your ears acutely listening to the harmonious moans and groans sloppily pouring out of Red Robins mouth.

Looking over your shoulder you see Red Robins head tilted toward the heavens, the last few strangled gasps escaping as his thrust speed up. The image filled your stomach with prideful glee. The sound that escaped him was ungodly.

With a final thrust, he unloads his entire being into you.

You never wanted someone to cum so badly before. His performance had you orgasming so many times, you had lost count.

A tiny sense of sadness edged into you brain at the realisation that you may never feel the same level of pleasure again.

“And that’s what happened in my dream.” You finished off your detailed rendition of your nightly escapade with the vigilante of your dreams. “Man, oh man, I wished that would happen in real life.” You sigh, taking a long sip of your tea before noticing Tim is sitting abnormally still and red faced. “Uh Tim are you okay? Did I make you uncomfortable?” You instantly cringed to yourself for over detailing your wet dream. “Tim I’m so sorry- I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Tim begins to shake his head. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m just surprised.”

Hesitantly, you enquire further. “Hm? What do you mean?” He nervously scratches his arms which only furthers your embarrassment that your best friend is clearly very uncomfortable with your over sharing. His lips thin into a hardline, and he his face shifts, as if considering his words carefully. The struggle to form the correct words makes you anxiously jump to conclusions. “Shit- I’m sorry Tim. I clearly crossed your boundaries. You’re just such a good friend I sometimes forget that your still a guy.” You shove your face in your hands, hoping that you’ll disappear into the void.

Tim begins to laugh at your sudden shyness. “No, don’t be embarrassed. I’m just… wow … that was a lot of detail.” You begin to groan.

“Ugh, just kill me now.”

“No, just listen okay?” You nod, nervously waiting Tim’s pauses.

“I- just, I’m surprised you have the hots for some random vigilante. What if he’s ugly?” You stare at him dumbfounded.

“Are you blind?!” You shout, “I think you need to get your eyes checked. That tiny face mask and skin tight suit is doing little to hide his hotness!” You exclaim passionately.

Truth be told, you always thought Tim had a likeness to Red Robin, but since you were always vocal about your celebrity crush, you figured Tim may misconstrued your compliments for flirtation.

“Okay, hypothetical situation. If the offer came about, would you actually hook up with Red Robin?”

“Yes.” You answered quickly.

“What? You’re not even going to think about it first?”

“No why would I?” You tilt your tea cup back to your lips, sipping the contents with joy as your revel in Tim’s shock.

“What if he was someone you knew, but you hook up with him unknowingly.”

“I’d be mad.”

“Right… yeah it would be unethical and wrong.” Tim says, eyes turning downcast.

“Yeah! Like we could’ve been hooking up that entire time?! Even my neighbour knows I have a crush on Red Robin. I’d be mad that he would keep me waiting like that!”

“What?! What if he didn’t know that’s how you felt?”

“How could this supposed Red Robin not know? I write fan-fiction about him.”

Making Tim’s ears burn red. “I know- you’ve made me proof read them.”

“Exactly.” You say sipping the remnants of your cup, and jumping up to make another cup. “Would you like another or do you have to go?” You ask, your voice turning a little softer at the end.

Tim’s furrowed brows remains knitted as he stares at his phone. “Conner is actually waiting for me downstairs.” He says, slowly getting up, his jacket dragging behind him.

“Aw already?” You say, abandoning your new brew and escorting Tim to the door. “I— miss you Tim…” you say shyly, almost too quietly. “You use to be here all the time and I know you’re busy but—“

“I always make time for you where I can.” Tim reassures. But your forced smile doesn’t get over looked by Tim.

“When can I see you again?” You ask, pulling Tim into a close hug.

“How about tonight? I’ll come see you after work~” He offers— but your frown remains. “I’ll even proof read your fan-fiction.” He relents, your elated spirits has you bouncing on the spot.

“Okay! See you tonight Timmy!” You cheer, waving him off as you slowly close the door.

“Did you finally ask her on a date?” Connor asks, as Tim climbs into the passenger seat.

“Nah… didn’t feel right…” Tim says, looking out the window to see you waving down at him enthusiastically from your balcony. He couldn’t help but wave back at you- a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “She got a little too excited and started telling me about a dream she had.”

[hyperfixiation-station]

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2 Part 3

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him. 

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face. 

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you  could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room. 

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you. 

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.” 

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable”  and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you. 

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around. 

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge? 

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies. 

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in. 

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound. 

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening. 

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out. 

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies. 

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again. 

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05  @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz  @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

[shy-writer-999]

1-800-LONELYCHEF . ₊ ⊹ .

Summary: The same man calls you every Friday at 11:30PM. It seems like he has nothing better to do. After months of the same routine, you've started to take a liking to him, which is a problem, considering that he's your client... and you work at a phone sex hot line. WC: ~7k. CW: NSFW content! ANGSTY! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Masturbation, oral sex. MDNI plz!

“Hello?”

You’re very familiar with the caller on the other end of the line. He calls you once a week—every Friday, after his shift at the bougie restaurant he works at, 11:30PM on the dot.

He must be very attractive, or at least that’s what you’ve garnered over talking to him for many months.

At first, he was evidently too shy to make use of your more… explicit services. This is a phone sex hotline, after all.

He honestly sounded like he just needed someone to vent to. So, you listened, as was your job. After the first few months, you both got more accustomed to one another. His shyness melted away. He got friendlier.

It’s been six or seven months since he first called. You’ve become very fond of him, but you have no idea what he looks like. So, one day, you decide to ask.

“Your voice is so sexy,” you start, giving him a line that you gave everyone, except this time you mean it. “I can’t help but wonder what you look like, Sanji.”

With other callers, you’d have to check what their name is before you say it. But you’re far past that point with him, and every time you say his name it makes his heart flutter.

“Well,” he says. “I’m blonde. And my eyebrows have a little… curl to them. I’m a decent height and I have a bit of a goatee.”

“And what color are your eyes?” You ask, trying to get the full picture.

He notes that question. It’s a thoughtful one. You’re thoughtful, in general. He knows that you are just being nice to him because, well, it’s your job, but also… he can’t shake the feeling that you have a soft spot for him. Do you talk to everyone like this?

“My eyes? Hmm. It depends on who you ask. I don’t know, really. Some people say they’re black, other people say grey, I’ve had a few tell me they’re blue. I’m not sure.”

You hum in response. There’s a beat of silence.

“What sort of eyes do you like?” He asks. He’s cheeky like that. You have the feeling that he has a real soft spot for you, too. Why else would he call you every week? There are plenty of others he could call. But he just sticks with you every time.

You respond. “It depends on who you ask. But historically I have liked guys with black, grey, or blue eyes. Do you happen to know anyone who fits the bill?”

He can tell that you’re smiling. He finds himself blushing, getting giddy for a few moments before he realizes that oh, right, you are at work, and oh, right, he is paying you to talk to him, like the loser he is.

His voice falters a bit the next time he speaks, a couple of seconds later. You know the exact thought that just went through his head. It’s something you are well aware of but… it does make you a bit sad with him. You like him far too much for your own good.

You wonder if you would like the look of him in real life, painfully single as you are. You wonder if he would like the look of you.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on this guy you’ve never met. Teeny tiny is a massive understatement. Just because he’s so consistent—you’ve never met a man as consistent as him—and so kind, and such a gentleman, even on the phone.

But tonight, the call ends earlier than usual. It seems that your open flirtation was a bit too genuine for him. Hit a bit too close to home. He finishes the conversation and dodges your attempt to take it farther.

“Thank you as always, beautiful. It’s a pleasure to talk to you. See you next week.” The phone hangs up abruptly. He’s gone now.

He always calls you beautiful, like everyone else does, but… it just means something coming from him. Maybe because he’s the only caller who has ever wanted to truly know something about you. And every time he hangs up, he says ‘see you next week,’ even though you never see each other. It’s cute.

You find yourself wishing he was still on the line. You’re a bit bummed that he hung up this early, not because you’re going to be left wanting for money (he always overpays), but because you always look forward to talking to him.

When you take the next caller, you’re quickly reminded that Sanji is by far the youngest and kindest of anyone who has ever called you.

---

“Hello?”

He’s on the line again. It’s Friday again, 11:30PM sharp.

You respond, tone warmer than it needs to be, given that you’re speaking to a client. “Hi.”

You’re glad to talk to him. Very realistically, this is the only interesting thing you have to look forward to—it’s not like you can afford to go out and party on the weekends. Or any day, for that matter. He’s your Friday night date every week. That doesn’t escape him.

“How was your week?” He asks, like he always does. He’s the only client who has ever asked you that.

You respond as frankly as you can without overstepping. “Hmmm. It was alright. Pretty boring, in general. It could have been better. How was your week?”

He pauses for a moment. “It was pretty good.”

“Tell me about it.” You prompt, and he begins detailing his week for you, as is your routine.

The things you know about this man’s life are random and vast, among them, you know that he lives in the city next to yours, he eats oats every morning for breakfast, and that he chain smokes as often as he can get away with (which is almost 24/7). You’ve been privy to him trying to cut back on his nicotine intake more than a few times, and he has never forgotten that you cheer him on every time he tries.

Among other things, this week he had to go to work on his usual day off (Wednesday) because the sous-chef called out (again). You can hear him roll his eyes when he says that. You roll them too, even though he can’t see.

He vents about that, and you hear him out.

“The sous-chef sounds like a real asshole,” you say. “Always has. Didn’t he call out a couple weeks ago?”

He laughs out loud at your honesty. “I fucking know, right? And yes, he did. It’s ridiculous.” Then his heart skips a beat. You really do pay attention to what he says.

“They don’t appreciate you as much as they should, Sanji. I bet I could talk some sense into them.” You say, and you both chuckle for a moment.

“What else happened this week?” You follow up, genuinely wanting to know. This man fascinates you. With how charming and sweet he is, it’s a wonder to you that he’s single. Also, the life he lives is quaint. He is a man of routine, a hard worker, and he’s driven. He has a strong and warm personality.

When he replies to your question, you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice—is that reluctance? Hesitation? Shyness? Or awkwardness? It’s hard to tell.

He responds to your question. “Well… I went on a date last night.”

Before you can wonder why, your heart starts to sink. Fuck. You really do have a crush on this guy, don’t you?

You regrettably (internally) acknowledge your disappointment. You do have a massive crush on this guy. And he’s your client. So, get a grip.

Your acting skills have to be excellent for this job. You make good use of them now. “Oh, a date?” You emanate the pinnacle of excitement for him. “How was it?”

This has happened maybe half a dozen times before. The dates always go well but the follow through rate is bad. Obviously. Or else he wouldn’t be here. But every time it has happened, your heart always sinks. Not a fun feeling.

“It went really, really well.” Sanji’s voice is happy. “Might have been the best date I’ve ever been on.” You know he’s smiling right now. Positively beaming. Your heart breaks a bit before you reprimand yourself. You have no right to like this man the way that you do.

He probably wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot-pole if he met you in real life (you tell yourself this, and you know it is a lie, but you try to say it to make yourself get a grip… needless to say, this strategy doesn’t work.)

“How was she?” You ask because you know he wants to talk about it.

“She was thoughtful, kind, and considerate. Very sweet. Kind of like you, actually.” He says, not realizing how much those words make your smile fall. “One of the cooks set us up. Like a blind date. I had no idea what to expect but she was gorgeous. Wow. So funny, too.”

His voice trails off. It’s your turn to talk.

“Awh, Sanji, I’m so glad. You deserve some attention.” Your voice is sugar coated like usual and his heart patters.

The conversation wanders into various topics. The woman he went on a date with is a veterinarian. That sours your mood. She must be real swell. Caring for sick animals and all that stuff. Ugh. The whole topic is forcing you to accept the fact that you like this guy wayyyy more than you should. You have no business having this intense of a crush on him, having this intense of a crush on a man who is, ostensibly, and for all intents and purposes, using you as his rent-a-girlfriend.

The pair of you then talk about relationships—has he ever been in one? (Yes, ages ago.) What is his love language? (Physical touch and acts of service.) What’s his type? (Essentially, you.) You ask him questions and he asks you them back. It’s a nice conversation, an intimate one, one that would have you feeling better if not for the fact that he just happened to have an amazing date.

After a while, the conversation dwindles. You know that he’s in the mood to do what this whole thing is really about—phone sex. When Sanji is in a really good mood or a really bad mood, he takes advantage of your expertise in this area. Tonight is the former.

“Is there anything else on your mind, handsome?” You ask, gauging what he’s up to tonight.

“Mmmm, there is. What are you wearing, gorgeous?”

You smile. He’s cute. Usually, you lie when men ask you this question. But with Sanji you tend to be a bit more truthful. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel like he’s going to get taken off the market soon and never call you again one day, or maybe it’s something else, but you’re getting the urge to be more candid and flirtier with him than you’ve ever been before. Real flirty, not work flirty. You’re getting the urge to step out of whatever character you put on when you pick up the phone.

“Do you want the regular client answer, or the Sanji answer?” You say, bold and not giving a fuck. Why not? He can have the real answer, hell, he can have some realness because you’ve talked for so long, and because you like him so much. Like you said, he deserves some attention.

“Oh. How about both?” He’s tickled and intrigued. “I’m flattered that I have my own option.”

“You always do. Well, the regular client answer would be that I’m wearing a babydoll slip dress made of black mesh… with a black lace thong and thigh-high black stockings. Do you like that?” Your voice starts to transform; it starts to drip pure lust, candied in honey and flattery. It’s a well-trained skill. Sanji gets hard almost immediately, tenting his pants and widening his thighs.

“I like it very much.” His voice is getting huskier, thicker. You love it when he sounds like that. His voice really is sexy. He continues. “Now, tell me the Sanji answer.”

“It isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

He nods, but it’s not like you can see him. “Of course.”

“I’m wearing a black tank top and blue plaid sweatpants. No bra, but I actually am wearing a black lace thong.” You laugh. “Very sexy, right?”

His voice comes out raspier this time. “It is, though. I much prefer the Sanji answer.”

“You’re sweet.” You say, and he can tell you mean it. “Now, what are you wearing?”

Sanji blushes and his erection strains against the fabric of his boxers. “Do you want the regular client answer, or the You answer?”

You laugh again. “How about both?”

“Well,” he continues. “The regular client answer is that I’m in black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone and my sleeves are rolled up to my forearms. I’m wearing black loafers and black socks. Now, the You answer isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t have a shirt on and I am coincidentally wearing blue plaid sweatpants as well. Can you believe that?”

“No way. Really?”

“Yep.”

“Anything underneath?” Your voice is coy and his erection pulses.

“Yep. I have boxers on. Boring black ones.”

“And what’s going on underneath of those?”

He dryly chuckles and reaches down to rub his hard on for a second. “A lot.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” You practically purr and he runs his palm over his bulge in response.

He lets out a soft groan that make you feel some sort of way. “Oh yeah? Y’know, even though I don’t really know what you look like, I just know that you’re looking sexy in your pajama outfit right now.”

Your witty reply is stopped short. He’s the only one who is this real with you. Most of the men on the other line tend to be creepy, old, and just downright weird. This is a dying profession, after all. Sometimes the other clients are rude and dismissive, too. But Sanji… you know he really means what he says.

“You’re adorable, Sanji,” you say. “I’d venture a guess that you look pretty good right now, too.”

“Mmmm.” He hums, heartbeat rising as he continues to palm himself. “I wish I could see you right now.”

You can’t tell if this is part of the fantasy. You really did wish you could see him, though.

“What would you do to me…” your voice is smooth as silk. “If I peeled off my tanktop and shimmied out of my sweatpants?”

Sanji’s breath hitches. Something feels realer than usual about this—knowing what you’re wearing right now, what you’re really wearing, is turning him on beyond belief (assuming that you’re telling the truth, but he always chooses to believe that you are).

“If I was there, I’d kiss you, actually.”

His answer catches you off guard. You’re not sure he’s said something like this before.

There is silence for a second. You don’t know how to respond, really. You decide to just respond honestly, without appearances. Fuck it. He’d probably be off the market soon if his amazing date was anything to tell for it, so might as well.

“Wow, that’s really sweet. I’m not sure anyone has said something that nice to me in years.”

He tuts. “That’s my lowest bar of sweetness. I can go much sweeter than that, my love.”

He’s never called you that before, either. You’re starting to forget that this is a work call. It feels distinctly different than one.

“I’d like to see how sweet you can get, Sanji.”

His cock twitches again. Fuck. You really have a way with words. You get him more riled up than anyone he’s ever met before.

You continue. “After you kiss me, what would you do to me?”

“I would kiss every inch of you.”

Your heart melts. Fuck. Is this guy a saint? Where does he get off being so suave?

“Mmmm. That sounds nice. I’d like to return the favor.” Your tone, to Sanji, is effortlessly erotic. The thought of you kissing every inch of him—yes, even those inches—has him grinding the palm of his hand over his cock.

“Sounds even better. Then, if you let me, I’d go down on you.” The blonde is starting to get worked up. You can tell from his voice—when it gets all husky like this, you know he’s about to start touching himself, if he isn’t already.

Also, the fact that he said ‘if you let me’ really struck you. No one had ever said that before in your line of work. He has the tendency to say things you’ve never heard before, and he always surprises you.

“Of course I’d let you go down on me,” your voice gets softer. “What exactly would you do?” You wonder if he’d be any good. Maybe his answer will be elucidative.

“I’d start by kissing up your thighs, one at a time. Then I’d very slowly, very gently kiss your clit. Hopefully it would feel good. After a while, I think I’d be able to tell if you liked it. I’d run my tongue downwards and taste you. And tease you as much as you’re willing to put up with.”

“Mmmm. I think I could put up with a lot.” You let out a breathy sigh. You’re starting to warm up between the legs. With that voice, and those words, and that mental image… it sounds divine. You’re about to let yourself get carried away. It’s tempting.

“Is that so?” Sanji decides to keep going with the fantasy as long as you’d let him. Frequently, this happens the other way around. You usually describe to him, in great detail, what you would do to him. Apparently tonight it would be the other way around.

“In that case,” Sanji continues, “I’d take my time with you. I’d push my tongue inside of you delicately at first, then harder, and switch between that and licking your clit.”

You can feel that you’re getting wet. It has only ever been with Sanji that you’ve actually gotten aroused while talking to a client. Usually, you’re as dry as the Sahara when talking to clients. But this man does things to you. Sinful things.

“What else?” You ask, biting your lip and sneaking your hand lower. You decide that, just this once, it’s okay to get carried away.

He can hear it in your voice. The synthetic, sugary (but still very much erotic) tone is dissipating and he’s hearing, for the first time, your voice bathed in genuine arousal. Your breaths are quicker than usual, your tone is less composed, and he can tell that you’re hanging onto his every word.

At the same time that his hand goes under the waistband of his boxers, yours goes under your underwear. He starts to stroke himself, relishing the first ripples of pleasure from his hand, and you do something similar. Each movement of your fingers is accompanied by his voice, by some filthy image he puts in your head.

“When you’re moaning loud enough, I’d press my middle finger into you slowly, to make sure you’re comfortable. After a moment, I’d move my finger and caress you inside a bit, and if it seemed like you liked it, I would press my ring finger into you.”

You start to mimic what Sanji is describing. It feels dangerously good. A barely audible sort of gasping sound falls out of your lips and Sanji hears it. His fist goes faster. He hasn’t ever heard you make that sort of noise before—he’s heard fake moans, sure, they were still hot (and he always told himself they were real). Anything you did was hot. But this sort of noise was the sort that could only be caused by one thing—pleasure.

Sanji’s fist goes a bit faster when he concludes that you may be touching yourself. The idea makes him feel like he’s on fire.

“I’d curl my fingers inside of you and find your g-spot… draw circles around it and press it while I place some kisses on your clit. Would you like that?”

His question catches you off guard—you’re getting lost in the act of fingering yourself.

“Mmmm. I would like that, Sanji.”

“How would I know that you liked it?”

“I’d, fuck,” another soft moan slips out of your lips and Sanji squeezes his cock tighter. “I’d run my fingers through your hair and pull you closer. Buck my hips into your tongue so you, ah, get deeper.”

“What would you say?” His voice is low now, and you can hear a faint sound in the background. He’s fisting his cock to your conversation, which is nothing new, but it brings you more of a rush than usual right now because you’re touching yourself too. “What would you say if you liked how I ate you out?”

“Don’t stop,” you shudder, and it sounds like it would if he was actually eating you out. The noise makes his heart flip. He can hear wet sounds from your end of the phone, too. He can hardly believe his ears, but sure enough, he can make out the noises of you bringing your fingers in and out of yourself.

“I wouldn’t,” Sanji says and then groans. The obscene noise goes straight to your aching core. You’re going to orgasm soon. “I wouldn’t stop until you came all over my face and I licked you clean.”

“Fuck,” you mewl. “That sounds, ah, sounds like it would feel good, Sanji.”

“Does it feel good?” He counters, twisting his hand over the head of his cock. His fist brings down the precum that has been beading at his tip, and the sensation makes his hips rock up inadvertently.

“Mmmmphhh, I—yes, it feels good, Sanji. Feels so good.”

You curl your fingers inside, searching for the spot that Sanji mentioned before. You press on it as you speak. You know he’s going to love the noise you make.

He grunts and throws his head back. He’s going to cum soon. He’s going to cum if you say his name some more. He wants it. “Say that again.”

“Fucckkk, Sanji. Feels so good.”

“I love hearing you say my name. I’m—hah—‘m gonna cum if you do it again.”

“Sanji. Sanji. Sanji, fuck, Saannnjjjiii.” On repeat, you moan his name through your orgasm, which you finally allow to wash over you. He can hear it in your voice, can hear you trying to force his name out of your mouth between keens.

Your voice has never sounded so good. He’s sure now, sure sure, that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time and that you just came. It’s a first for him. He’s suspected your arousal at other times, but this time, it’s a confirmed fact. In an instant, the fantasy fades and he can see the moment for what it is—you’ve thrown away the pretenses, acting skills, and flattery, and, for a handful of minutes, you’ve been 100% yourself with him, more so than ever before.

That’s what makes him cum. Your unreserved sincerity and desire. It’s the hardest he’s cum in a long time—and that’s a high bar, considering the fact that any time he broaches these activities with you he cums hard.

When you’re both panting in the euphoric aftershocks of your orgasms, Sanji whistles. “Damn.”

You hum in agreement. “Wow.”

He cracks a joke. “So, am I supposed to send you an invoice after this one?”

He’s hilarious in general, and this one makes you laugh. “I might allow it.” Your tone is uncharacteristically bashful. You’re about to say something you’ll later regret. “I think you’re the only person who has ever gotten me off over the phone.”

Sanji is taken aback for a second. “Really? I’m honored. And surprised.”

You almost instantly wish you didn't overshare, chuckling awkwardly before you realize that this is a work call, and you should act accordingly. But it’s hard to pull yourself out of the intimacy of this moment and you don’t want to. So… against your better judgment, you don’t.

“I’m impressed, Sanji. Maybe we should do this more often,” you say, and Sanji’s heart thumps again. “You don’t have to only call me once a week, you know.”

“As long as you won’t get sick of me, I would love to. And we can do this again any time, gorgeous. It’s seriously my pleasure. You don’t know what you do to me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

While he’s saying the last part, Sanji realizes that this isn’t a favor, really. He tries to brush off that sad feeling for a moment but finds himself wondering what you really think of him.

It’s time for him to go to sleep, he concludes. He’s exhausted after a long shift and a hard orgasm.

“So, same time next week?” His voice is chipper.

“Mhm. I look forward to it, Sanji. See you later.” When the words leave your mouth, you wonder if he feels butterflies, too.

“See you later, sweetheart.”

Sanji hangs up the phone.

In your respective bedrooms, you’re both wondering what the fuck just happened. This call was full of lots of firsts and, little do you two know, the other feels elated.

But Sanji thinks about it more. He weighs his feelings for you against the practical understanding that he is, presumably, nothing more than a client to you. His heart aches at the thought.

And then he looks at his phone. The person who he went on a date with texted him while he was on the phone with you—she’s asking for another date. She says she looks forward to seeing him.

---

A week passes.

It’s Friday again.

11:30PM comes and goes. No call from Sanji.

In a span of over six months, this is the first time he hasn’t called you.

As you sit and wait for him, passing off other phone calls in case he decides he wants to speak to you tonight, your heart starts to sink.

Was last time a mistake?

Ten minutes go by.

Twenty minutes go by.

Many minutes go by. The time is now 12:30AM.

You’re left to conclude that last time was, indeed, a mistake.

You decide to take the night off. Your tears are making it hard to get any work done. You can’t put on that sultry voice and moan at old men in your current state.

There’s no denying it—his absence hurts you. Bad. Especially after last week. Especially after you admitted to him that you had never orgasmed over the phone before, and that you wanted to talk to him more often.

Why hadn’t he called you?

You wrack your brain for possibilities, but one major thing stands out. That date he went on. Maybe he went on another one and decided he liked them better.

Liked them better? You ask yourself after realizing what you just thought. He’s paying you to talk to him on the phone. Get over it. He isn’t going to keep calling you forever. What did you expect after last week? That he would just confess his love, offer to pay all of your bills, and that would be it?

You frown harder, hurting yourself deeper with your own rhetoric. The tears won’t stop.

It’s excruciating to realize that you like Sanji this much. You really like him. You know almost everything there is to know about him, too. And as much as you generally try to avoid giving out personal information, he knows a large chunk about you. Maybe that’s why it hurts so bad.

No, you tell yourself. Don’t kid yourself. You know it hurts this bad because you were hoping he liked you for real. You were hoping that this man, who you had never truly met before, who you had never seen, would, against all odds, decide that he wants you, even if he hadn’t seen you.

Fat chance, you tell yourself. Never do that with a client again, and this will never be a problem again.

---

Sanji does not call you back the next week.

Or the next week.

Or the week after that.

Or the month after that.

You are over it by the time the second month rolls around.

It’s pretty good timing, on your behalf. You think you’re really over this huge crush on a man you’ve never seen before. By the fifth month, you’re still telling yourself that you’re over this “crush”.

But that’s a delusion—any time you’re in public and there’s a blonde man, you find yourself scanning his face. Does he have a goatee? Could those eyebrows be considered curly? What color are those eyes?

When you see one that you think might be him, you always work up the courage to speak to them. But it never is Sanji. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

You wonder what you will say to him if he ever calls you again. Or if you see him in person. You decide that if he ever calls you again, you’ll either curse him out or break into tears.

In your most down-bad-hour, you contemplate showing up at the restaurant he is the chef at. You contemplate asking if you can see the kitchen. You just want a glance at him. A glance will keep your heart quiet.

But the joke’s on you—his restaurant is too expensive for you. Truly. You couldn’t afford a drink there if you tried. Okay, maybe just one. But you refuse to stoop to that level of desperation.

You’re a call away from him. He just has to dial your number.

You, on the other hand, have no way of calling or texting him. The service you work through scrambles client numbers before they’re patched through to you. The only way you know it’s Sanji is when he calls, at 11:30PM on the dot, on Friday nights. That’s Sanji time.

But it seems like Sanji time has come and gone.

You can’t shake the feeling that he did you dirty—but then you remember that he doesn’t owe you anything. This is your line of work. Phone sex. And that’s what you had. You just stepped over a boundary that you usually stay far away from. Whose fault is that?

No amount of logic can shake that feeling, though. You develop a little grudge against this man who you will never meet.

That’s what you tell yourself—that you’ll never meet him. But there’s a nugget of hope inside that, someday, he’ll call you. Someday he’ll kiss you. You try to obliterate that nugget though, as it is antithetical to the remedy to your lovesickness that you’re seeking.

Which will come first, him calling you, or you quitting this job that you’ve been meaning to quit for months at this point?

You hate to admit this to yourself, but he’s the only thing that was keeping the thoughts of quitting at bay. Maybe you really will quit this time around.

---

It is a Saturday night and you’re working again. It’s an unfortunately slow night, which sucks, because you really could use the money.

You’re scrolling on your phone, waiting for the next call to come in. It has been three hours with no calls. Guess all the creepy old men have plans tonight, which is such a shame because you need to pay rent soon. Sigh.

Time passes. You check the clock. It’s almost 11:30PM. The time doesn’t remind you of him anymore (well, much).

Maybe if you channel some of your good karma, ask the universe to cut a check of it right now, someone will call you for one long, lengthy conversation. You can help get them off as many times as they want. Five times in a row. You’ll break that record and go for six times if they just pay you. No questions asked.

Sure enough, a call comes through. You check the clock again. It’s been moving at a snail’s pace tonight. It’s 11:35PM. Hopefully whoever this is feels like talking.

“Hello?”

Your heart stops.

It sounds like Sanji for a second. But there’s no way. It’s been five fucking months.

“Hi.” You respond in your sugared up, sultry voice.

“It’s been a long time, gorgeous.”

It is Sanji.

Your heart flutters and your stomach flips. You’re speechless.

Don’t forget your game plans: curse him out or cry. But you can’t bring yourself to do either now that he’s waiting on the other line. You’re about to hang up the phone. You owe this man nothing and he owes you nothing—it’s that simple.

As you go to press the end call button, he speaks again.

“I’m sorry.”

The tears start now. The dam inside of you breaks. Hot tears pour out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

You didn’t think that hearing his voice would have this strong of an effect on you. But the heartbreak that you once thought faded away is now back in full force.

He’s waiting for a response before he hears shuddering breaths from you as you cry. Your tears are all the confirmation he needs—he knows that he was right months ago when he worked up the courage to confess to you. He should have done it. He knows that he was wrong to take the coward’s way out. And he knows he was wrong to tell himself that you didn’t care about him and wouldn’t care when he disappeared, because he was just a client to you. He was so terribly wrong. The sound of your sobs shatters him.

“I should have called you before. I’m so sorry. And maybe you hate me for waiting this long to call you again. I understand if you do. I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore, I—”

“Where the fuck were you?” You cut him off. Your anger is starting to seep through the tears. Maybe the first game plan can still happen. “I waited for you, Sanji.”

He doesn’t even try to think of a comeback or excuse. He tells you plainly what happened and, even though it breaks your heart some more, it makes sense.

“Well… I finally found someone. Last time, after I hung up, I had another date with that person I mentioned, and it went really well. So, we just kept going on dates. It didn’t feel right to keep calling you when things with her were progressing so quickly. We got together, and—”

“I understand, Sanji. That’s all I wanted to hear. Thanks.”

You slam your finger down on the hang up button. Your heart is broken enough as it is. He can keep all that yapping to himself. Good for nothing heartbreaker.

So what, he was with whoever that was. So what, they love each other and have been together almost half a year at this point. So what, he was just a client the whole time and you had gotten your hopes up for nothing and—your catastrophizing is stopped in its tracks when your phone starts to buzz again. You feel like it’s Sanji.

You pick up the phone. It is.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up, please let me finish, please.”

“What, so you can tell me how much you love your girlfriend? I get it, Sanji. You paid me to talk to you for so long that of course you got sick of it and finally got what you had been after the whole time, a loving, very real partner. I understand that I’m just a service to be used and discarded later. That’s fine. Goodbye.”

“No. Listen to me.” Sanji’s voice is stern and harsh, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. “We got together and then she very quickly dumped me. Do you know what she kept saying to me? She said I was too absentminded. She thought I was thinking about someone else. Dumped me after two months because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Absentminded.”

His words hang in the air for a few moments while you try to process why the fuck he’s explaining any of this to you and why it matters. He continues. His voice is emphatic, hurried, and nervous sounding.

“And if I’m being honest, I was absentminded. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know this sounds fucking ridiculous because we’ve never met, and I understand if you tell me to go fuck off because I’m sure this happens to you all the time, but… I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried to for months. Three months. I told myself that I was an idiot for falling for someone out of my league. And the crazy thing is, I don’t even have to see you to know you’re out of my league. The way you act is out of my league. YOU are out of my league. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and considerate, and you pause before you respond whenever you talk because I can tell you’re really thinking over your response. And you’re funny. And witty, and charming, and you never once made me feel weird or less than for calling and finding solace in you. I’ve been lonely for years. I make the first move all the time, but it never works out. And I know I fucked this one up, and I know I didn’t have a chance in hell with you to begin with, but I just, fuck, I had to get this off my chest. I love you. I fell for you the first conversation we had. Now please tell me to fuck off.”

You can tell that every word he is saying is sincere and earnest. You can hear the emotion in his voice. While you wipe your tears dry and mend your heart together, you take deep breaths. He can wait for your response. Like he just said, you’re intentional about your responses to people. Every word matters. Especially with Sanji.

“Do you know how bad it hurt after our last conversation to not hear from you again?” You start.

He winces. He knew that was coming.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry. It was disrespectful of me, and callous, and if you hang up and never want to speak to me again, I understand and I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it.” You say, regaining some composure. “You really do, Sanji.”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear his frown. It’s a cute one. Fuck. His cute words are playing back in your ears too. So, he loves you?

Should you tell him how you feel? How you’ve felt for a long time?

One part of you is screaming at you to get a grip. But the other part—all the other parts—are finally, finally hearing what you’ve been wanting to hear for around a year at this point. That he likes you for you. That he sees you as you, and not some dolled up object of affection that’s only there to get people off and talk dirty to them. It has never been like that between you.

“If I accept your apology, Sanji, what then?”

“I—I actually didn’t think I would make it this far. But if you accept my apology, my next step is to ask you out to dinner with me. And to ask for your phone number. Your real phone number.”

You let out a long, deep sigh. “Sanji. My love. You could have told me these things months ago. It would have saved both of us so much heartbreak. I was devastated. Do you know that?”

You know that he already profusely apologized but you feel like driving it home a bit more. He deserves it. But while you talk, his hopes start to rise. You’ve never called him ‘my love’ before. Maybe that bodes well?

“I’m so sorry. I really am.” He sounds like he means it. You trust him enough to know that he does. Well, fuck it.

“Don’t think I’ll just forget about this because I’m head over heels for you, okay?”

“You—what?” He’s caught off guard. “You are?”

“Sanji. Yes. And you could have found out ages ago. Now, when are we going to dinner? You can apologize to me again then, too. And even if you don’t like what you see, you have to pay for everything. I’m getting an appetizer, an entrée, a dessert, at least two drinks, and whatever else I want. Okay?”

He laughs in relief. “Yes, okay. Yes. Holy shit, I didn’t think you would say that. I wish I could kiss you.”

“Wait—one last thing. If you decide you don’t like me after our date, Sanji, you have to tell me there on the spot. You can’t leave me waiting for another five months. You just can’t.”

“I promise, I won’t leave you waiting. I promise.”

When you hang up the phone a few minutes later (after more twisting the knife), you’re so thrilled that you can hardly breathe.

You can’t believe this is real life. You also can’t believe how quickly you just forgot your dignity, but you’ll unpack that later.

Dinner is set for tomorrow night. 7:30PM on the dot. Sanji is calling out of work, and he’s taking you to the (second) nicest restaurant in town (his is the first, obviously, and he wants to save that for a night where he can really plan ahead and spoil you).

---

When you get to the restaurant, Sanji is already there, waiting outside with a large bouquet of flowers.

He’s more handsome than you could have imagined. Of course he is. You do have great intuition, and you knew from the start that he was sexy. But… goddamn, he is sexy.

It makes sense now what he meant by curly eyebrows. He’s dressed well, too. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He has black loafers and black socks. And he smells good. And he smiles good.

He’s so nervous he could puke. He hopes that when he sees you the nerves will melt. But they get 20x worse because he’s enamored with you. You’re beyond his wildest dreams—no number of fantasies could have led him to guess that you look like this.

He’s so obsessed that he starts to stammer before you tell him to calm down, and that he’s making you nervous.

Over dinner, you catch up on everything you’ve missed in the past few months of silence. You fill him in on details in your life that you previously kept to yourself, and he sees a whole new side of you.

At the end of the date, he tells you that he still loves you, that he loves you even more now, and that he’s so so sorry. He says that he’s mesmerized by you, that you’re more than he could have ever dreamed of, and that you can count on him for anything.

You seal the night with a kiss. A long one. It’s so romantic that you feel a bit disturbed with how happy you are after.

And it turns out that yes, this is your big happy ending. You make a perfect pair.

Epilogue: The day that Sanji finally shows off the techniques he told you about long ago, you’re more than satisfied. In fact, it seems like he was actually underselling himself there. You always knew he was the modest type.

thanks for reading! this was inspired by a whole lot of laufey! i hope you liked it. i love sanji so much it hurts me ;(

click here for part 2! also here's my masterlist if you're interested!

[planetaryupscaled]

The Bed We Made

Male Reader x Teyeon x Winter

Tags: 18k, smut, creampie, dubcon, incest, oral, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

It’s not often you meet a mother who is as good-looking as her daughter or the rest of the family for that matter.

-

Groaning and moaning is all i heard as I passed the guest bedroom where my cousin Chaewon had been. ‘It’s nice to see someone is having fun’ I said to myself as I walked down the hall past my sister's bedroom. Now I close my ear. Shit, I don't want to hear what happens inside there.

I didn't like Minjeong boyfriend, that's no secret. But I’d learned a long time ago to stay out of her love life. That guy was an asshole. I couldn’t hide my feeling on him, not from her, but I remained silent on the subject. I was sure Minjeong would figure it out eventually and for the time being, at least he was a good-looking asshole that seemed to make her happy.

I moved on once again toward my own room. Chaewon’s brother Sojun was there with his new girlfriend Juhyeon. He was using my room because the only other bedroom available was my mom’s and neither Minjeong nor I thought it right that he and his girlfriend sleep there. I got mom’s bed since I was the one who stupidly broke up with his girlfriend the week before.

“I really could have timed it better,” I mumbled to myself.

Minjeong and I had started planning this night from the moment mom told us that she was going out of town on business. I was twenty and going to college. Minjeong was twenty-three and already working. She still lived home while she saved up for a place.

Mom was pretty old fashioned and didn’t let the people we were dating sleep over. She was a typical mother. She liked to think of us still as kids. It would have been cute if it weren’t so annoying.

I stopped in front of my bedroom door and listened. I forgot to get a pair of sweats to sleep in out of my closet before Sojun and Juhyeon disappeared into my room. I didn’t hear anything, so I opened the door gently. I glanced at my bed and saw that they were asleep.

They were naked. My eyebrows rose in appreciation when I saw Juhyeon. I had to give him credit. I’d thought she was cute when I met her earlier, but now I realized that Juhyeon was a lot more than that. She was hot, and had a very nice body. I shook my head and looked away.

The sweat pants were easily reachable and I got them as quietly as I could. I was making my escape when I stubbed my toe. I cursed as quietly as I could.

“Are you okay?” I heard Juhyeon ask. I looked back toward the bed. She had pulled the covers up, but I could still see her curves through the sheets. She saw me looking and smiled.

“Fine,” I replied a little too quickly. “Sorry. I just needed to get something to sleep in.”

“No problem,” she said kindly. “I shouldn’t have a problem going back to sleep. I’m still pretty drunk.”

“Aren’t we all?” I grinned. “We finished almost all the alcohol we bought, and that’s saying something.”

“It was a fun night,” she smiled in return. It was sexy as hell. I looked at her and shook my head as I fought to hide my sudden and intense attraction to her.

“You know, if you do have a problem going back to sleep...” I began, and paused when I realized what I was about to say. What’s wrong with me?

“Yes?” Juhyeon asked with a raised eyebrow. I was tempted, but it wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t the type to try and steal someone’s girl. “You could wake him up. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“You think?” she smiled.

“I know,” I laughed, then glanced at my cousin who seemed almost comatose and added, “Although he seemed wiped out.”

“He is,” she replied, slowly looking at me oddly. “Do you want to fill in for him?” I was stunned. Tonight was the first time I met Juhyeon. She was pretty quiet earlier. I would never have guessed she was like this.

“No,” I replied with some difficulty. “Not that I’m not tempted, you are hot as hell,” I laugh.

“How sweet,” she teased. “Oh, thanks for the complement.”

“You deserve it,” I said, shaking my head.

“If you keep talking like that,” she smiled sexily. “I might not give you the choice.”

“I’d better be going then,” I laughed, but it was very difficult to move.

“Now look what you’ve done?” she asked. “I’m horny again. I guess I’ll have to wake him up.”

“Think you can?” I joked. “He looks passed out.”

“Watch me,” she replied confidently. Juhyeon shocked me again by reaching out and beginning to rub my cousin’s cock through the sheet. She was watching me, obviously enjoy my reaction.

‘Wow!’ I thought. ‘Drunk or not, this girl was definitely something else.

Juhyeon continued to look at me as she worked her mouth. I stood there mesmerized. She had one of the sexiest smiles I’d ever seen. She let the sheet drop slightly and exposed her breasts. I shook my head.

“I don’t suppose you have a sister?” I asked.

“Two,” she grinned. “But the younger one is only eighteen and pretty innocent.”

“And the older one?” I asked.

“You couldn’t handle her,” Juhyeon laughed.

“Maybe not,” I smiled. “But after watching this, I’d sure like to try.”

“Watching what?” she asked huskily, no longer laughing. “You mean this?” And with that Juhyeon pulled the cock from under the sheet and took it into her mouth while her eyes never left mine. I swallowed hard.

“Does he know just how much of a slut you are?” I groaned. My eyes were locked with hers.

“Not yet,” she smiled sexily, “But he’s learning.”

“Are you sure you aren’t willing to introduce me to your sister?” I joke.

“Maybe one day,” she smiled. “Or maybe I’ll let Sojun play with my sister and keep you to myself.”

“Okay,” I laugh. “Are you always like this?”

“Not usually,” she admitted. “But like I said earlier, I’m pretty drunk.”

“So, if you were sober you wouldn’t want to do what you just suggested?”

“Oh, I would want to do it,” she replied. “I just wouldn’t have suggested it, at least not so soon after starting to date Sojun and meeting you.”

“Hah you are something else.” I said, shaking my head.

“Yes, she is,” my cousin said, finally awake.

“Hey lover,” Juhyeon said, smiling at him.

“You two have fun,” I said, shaking my head again and leaving my room.

I went into the bathroom and changed into my sweats. I had to wrestle my cock inside. Juhyeon really got to me. I forced Tried to force myself not to think about it or I’d never get to sleep.

Mom’s room was the biggest and she had a king-sized bed. I shook my head sadly as I looked at it. It was too bad she never shared it with anyone. My father had disappeared right after I was born. I didn’t know him and at this point I never wanted to.

I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. I was tired, but had a hard time going to sleep. I knew what was going on in all of the other bedrooms and I had to admit that I was jealous, and horny as hell. I thought about taking care of myself, but I was in mom’s bed and I just couldn’t do it.

It took me some time to finally relax. That’s when lying in mom’s bed helped. It smelled of her and reminded me of how she used to help me calm down and fall asleep when I was a kid. In fact, mom’s bed was where Minjeong and I used to climb in when we had nightmares. Mom would play with our hair until we fell asleep.

I’m not sure how long I slept before I heard someone enter the room. It was pitch dark and whoever it was didn’t seem to be interested in putting on the light despite stumbling. I couldn’t quite remember what I was dreaming about, but I knew it was sexual. I was disappointed that my sleep was interrupted.

I opened my mouth and almost started to ask what was going on, but I stopped myself when I realized that there was no reason for someone to come in here in the middle of the night. It had to be one of the people sleeping over.

I reviewed who was in the house and a thought came to me. I felt myself stiffen instantly. Could it be? Would she do this?

I thought the answer to both questions obvious. I remembered the way Juhyeon looked at me and what she said. It had to be her. The question was, what should I do about it? She was sneaking into the room I was sleeping in, her intent obvious, but she was my cousin’s girlfriend.

‘Maybe Sojun knows. Maybe they decided to do what she said. Maybe my cousin is going to get Juhyeon’s sister while I get Juhyeon,’ I thought suddenly, but then frowned and added, ‘That’s a hell of a lot of maybes.’

I was still wrestling with myself on what to do when she climbed into bed next to me. All the sexual tension from before returned in full and I reached for her. Juhyeon we were in my mother’s bed, but I was too worked up to think or worry about it anymore. I aggressively pulled her into a kiss before she could say anything. She was naked and tasted strongly of alcohol.

Juhyeon stiffened at first when I kissed her. I guess she was surprised I was awake. She relaxed quickly enough though and ended up being a good kisser despite being drunk. She moaned softly into my mouth as I started rubbing her breasts. She took my cock in her hand and start stroking it like she did with my cousin earlier. It was my turn to moan.

I pulled off my shirt and sweats and dropped them on the floor. We were both obviously beyond the need of foreplay. I rolled on top of her and Juhyeon spread her legs wide. The scent of her excitement spread and despite being ready, I couldn’t stop myself from taking a moment to taste her. My tongue dipped deep into her pussy and she cried out. Juhyeon’s pussy was surprisingly hairy. I liked it.

“Yes! It’s been so long!”

I froze at the words. The voice wasn’t Juhyeon’s! My mind took seconds to function before it could wrap around the truth. I was lying here with my head between my mother’s legs, What the… she was supposed to be out of town!

“Don’t stop!” she cried, using both hands to pull my face against her. I didn’t know what to do. This was wrong, so very wrong!

‘Or is it?’ I suddenly asked myself. I mean, I knew it was wrong, but obviously she liked what I was doing. I loved her and if it brought her pleasure, maybe right and wrong didn’t come into it. Besides, she tasted amazing!

“Please!” she cried. “I’m close!” I tentatively started licking again almost without realizing it. She groaned and pulled my mouth against her even harder. “Whoever you are, you have the nicest tongue!”

‘She must be very drunk,’ I thought. Mom wasn’t the type to drink or sleep around. I knew that. In fact, she’d only moments ago said that it had been a long time. She obviously wasn’t thinking straight right now, but she would in time.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I’m going to cum…” Her pussy became even wetter and the taste overwhelmed me.

I refocused my attention on what I was doing and was quickly rewarded with her cum. She cried out as her orgasm took her. The sound made me smile, almost proudly. No matter what else, I’d given her a moment of ecstasy.

“That was amazing,” she said afterward. I could hear the contentment in her voice, but I also realized that she wanted more. So did I.

‘I can’t feel this way about her, It’s so wrong!’ I thought. Yet, I felt what I felt. ‘No!’

I knew it was time to leave despite my own excitement. The only problem was that she wrapped her hand around my cock and she started stroking it again before I could figure out how to make my escape. A few moments later she kissed me and all thoughts of leaving disappeared.

I was amazed at how excited kissing she made me feel. It didn’t make sense! She was my mother and you didn’t do this with your mother, only I was and it felt incredible. Her tongue danced in my mouth and I moaned. I was lying on my back now and after a few minutes I felt she start to shift on top of me. I knew what she wanted, but I wasn’t ready for that. Not with her!

I pushed her off.

“Men,” she laughed. “You’re all the same. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed.” I didn’t know what she was talking about until she took my cock into her mouth.

‘Holy shit!’ I cried silently. ‘she is giving me a blowjob’ The fact that she was very good at it only made it worse.

I moaned and rested one hand on her head. She didn’t need any direction, but it felt good to have my fingers intertwined with her hair. She wasn’t a full-figured woman, but neither was she skinny in any sense. She went to the gym every night and stayed trim. She said it was because of her job, but I knew that she was proud of her figure.

My orgasm grew close very quickly as she continued to suck my cock like crazy. She also messaged my balls with one hand. It didn’t take long for me to cum in her mouth. She drank it all down.

“I hope you don’t take long to recover,” she said afterward as she rolled onto her back. “I need this. It’s been a very long time and I’ve had a horrible last couple of days.”

I wondered what happened that made them horrible, but there was no way to find out without letting her know who I was. So instead, I kissed her again. She was obviously excited because her tongue danced wildly in my mouth.

“Oh, very nice,” she cried when she felt my cock hardening again. This time she tried to shift me on top of her. I helped despite my uncertainty. She sighed contently when she felt my weight on her and added, “I’m ready.”

The question was, was I? Would I really have sex with her? I knew she needed it and frankly, I was horny as hell, but what would happen tomorrow? How would we deal when we were both sober?

She was rubbing my cock up and down her pussy.

“Please don’t tease me!” she begged, and the next thing I knew I was pushing inside of her. None of my questions or fears had been addressed, but I was beyond caring at the moment.

She was pretty tight, but she was so excited that it didn’t take me long to push all the way in. I didn’t want to think about the only other time I’d been inside her pussy. Instead, I started stroking in and out of her.

“Yes!” she cried. “You’re so big!”

She wrapped her legs around my hips and pulled me deeper. She also raked my back with her nails. It got worse the closer she came to orgasm.

“Nghhgod….” she cried. “I’m cumming!” I was pretty sure she drew blood with her nails.

My own orgasm was still far off. I wanted to bring her pleasure and my own excitement was obvious, but this just wasn’t right. Don’t get me wrong. What we were doing felt amazing and was driving me crazy. I just couldn’t finish, not like this.

She thrashed under me as her orgasm took her. I held her through it and kept my cock pressed as deeply as it would go. It took her surprisingly long time to finish.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding almost as if she were crying. “I really needed that.”

I refused to get off of her or pull out. In fact, it wasn’t long before I started gently moving in and out of her again.

“Again?” she asked in surprise. I pushed in deeper in reply, causing her to moan.

I continued to work her pussy until her excitement grew to the point where she was once again scratching my back. Her pussy was tight, hot and wet. It felt like my cock was an iron-like rod being thrust in and out of a furnace. It was amazing, I wanted to cum inside her, but I knew that there was only one way I’d be able to do that. She needed to know the truth. Could we?

“You are beautiful,” I said, she stopped scratching my back as my words were sinking in past her alcohol filled mind. “I love you.”

“Minho?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes mom,” I answered. “It’s me.”

“No!” she cried and pushed against me wildly. I wouldn’t let her get up, but she spun around and buried herself into the bed. My cock pulled free and I groaned in disappointment.

“Mom, calm down,” I said.

“Get off!” she cried.

“No,” I said, surprising us both. My cock was still hard and wedges between her ass cheeks.

“This is so wrong…” she whimpered.

“It’s already done,” I replied. “And don’t act like didn’t love every minute of it, The bed is soaked.”

“How could you?” she asked.

“I didn’t know it was you at first,” I replied. “What’s your excuse? Just who did you think was in your bed?”

“I didn’t think!” she moaned. “I’m drunk.”

“I know,” I said more gently. “Me too.”

“Minho, please get off of me.” She asked more calmly, but obviously still in shock.

“Mom, we’ve already done the worst we can,” I said. “And it was amazing. I need to cum in you. Please let me.”

“No… Never!” she cried. “You’re my son!”

“I’m also the man whose back you scratched in passion as I drove you to orgasm,” I said.

“We can’t!” she said, but it was obvious she was weakening. I knew that tone of voice. All I needed to do was be patient and I’d get my way. I learned that a long time ago. The only problem was that I couldn’t. I shifted my cock to the entrance of her pussy.

“You wouldn’t,” she cried. I thrust my cock deep. “Stop!”

I ignored her cries, she was now a woman I wanted desperately, needed desperately.

She tried to get out from under me, but I held her in place. She fought harder, but her pussy became wetter with every passing second.

“This is so wrong.” she moaned as she finally stopped fighting and lifted her hips slightly to give me better access. I smiled and pushed in deeper.

“You’re right.” I grunted, and then leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “But that’s not going to stop you from cumming again. Me either.”

“Oh yes…” she groaned. “Cum in me… I want to feel a man fill me again!”

“Even if that man is me?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. She came to her senses and fought briefly once more, but I held her in place until her need took control again. It wasn’t very long. She was too excited to let her sense of right and wrong get in the way. I drove into her over and over again.

“Your cock is so big!” she moaned. “And you’ve found my weakness, just like your father did all those years ago.”

“Weakness?” I asked.

“Don’t make me say it!” she begged between gasps, but oddly, I knew that she wanted me to.

“Tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me your weakness.”

“I won’t!” she cried, suddenly fighting to get out of me again. I held her down and drove into her harder and faster. She suddenly stopped fighting and came. Her orgasm was explosive.

“Yes! Yes! Nghhh…” she moaned.

I was close, but I wasn’t there yet. She thrashed under me violently. It got so bad that my cock popped free of her. I tried to shove it back in, but I missed and ended up pushing against the entrance to her ass.

“Just like your father!” she moaned again as she froze. It took me a moment to realize what she wanted. No way?

“You want me to fuck your ass?” I asked.

“That’s disgusting!” she cried, which wasn’t a denial. I’d never taken a girl’s ass before, but the thought had always interested me. I pressed the head of my cock against the entrance to her ass more firmly. It was surprisingly tight. It didn’t help that she was fighting me once more. She was clenching her ass. I paused. What if she really didn’t want me to?

“Tell me you want me to fuck your ass and I will,” I said.

“Never!” she gasped under me. “I’m a good girl! I would never say something like that!”

“But you want me to, don’t you?” I asked. She didn’t answer. She just fought harder and the truth hit me. “That’s it, isn’t it? You like to think of yourself as normal and wholesome, but the truth is that you’re a slut.”

“I am not!” she cried. “I’m not doing this of my own free will. You’re forcing me!”

“And you love every moment of it.” I said, realizing I was right. “You like being held down. You like being taken. Admit it!”

“Minho, I’m your mother!” she cried in response.

“So?” I asked. “You’re also a woman. Admit it!”

“I can’t!” she cried. I was done talking. I knew the truth even if she wouldn’t say it. Her ass was still clenched. I was tempted to push past her resistance, but I didn’t want to hurt her. So, I shifted down her body.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I ignored her question and forced her thighs apart. Now her pussy and ass were open to me and only inches from my mouth. I stuck my tongue out and licked her pussy. She moaned and relaxed slightly, but that only lasted until my tongue moved to her ass.

“Minho, no!” she cried. “Not even you father did that!”

“His loss.” I grunted and focused on what I was doing. I also drove two fingers into her pussy and used the thumb of the same hand on her clit. It wasn’t long before she moaned loudly and she relaxed. I worked both her pussy and ass hard and she loved every minute of it.

“This is so wrong…” she finally gasped.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed easily now. I smiled and decided to tease her. “How can you just lay there and let your son have his way with your body? I’m licking you ass, what kind of a mother are you?”

“No!” she cried, and started fighting me again.

I moved up her body and pressed her down against the bed. She continued to fight until my cock pushed into her ass for the first time. She cried out and surprised me by thrusting back to meet me.

“Your ass is so tight…” I whispered in her ear as I continued to force more of my cock inside.

“So much like your father!” she gasped out again. “Only bigger!”

“Kiss me.” I demanded as my cock finally reached into the depth of her ass. Her head turned and she looked at me. The room was pitch black, but I could feel her eyes. “Kiss me. Show me just what kind of a slut you really are.”

I thought she’d start fighting me again, but she surprised me by finding my mouth and thrusting her tongue inside. I moved in and out of her ass slowly as we continued to kiss.

“Minho stop…” she cried after a while and refused to kiss me. I knew what she was trying to tell me. She was ready. She wanted me to fuck her ass hard. She needed to feel me take her.

“We’re not done yet.” I said, thrusting into her ass with more power and propping myself up. “I need to cum, I need to fill your ass.”

“No…” she cried and started fighting me. I held her down roughly and fucked her ass with everything I had. My hips slammed into her meaty ass with every stroke and made a slapping sound that drove me crazy. She liked it too. I could tell.

“I’m getting close,” I groaned after a while. “I want you to cum with me. Play with yourself.”

“No… Good girls don’t do that!” she replied.

I took one of her hands and roughly pushed it under her and between her legs. It threw my rhythm off, but that was fine for a bit. I wanted this to last. I took her hand in mine and made her rub her soaked pussy. She fought, but not a lot and not for long. It was only a few seconds before her fingers blurred on her clit without my direction.

“I can’t believe you’re forcing me to do this!” she cried as her orgasm growing.

“Shut up and just do it.” I demanded. She moaned as I started fucking her ass in earnest again. I was holding her hips now and ramming in and out of her.

“I’m cumming!” I cried as my orgasm hit.

“That’s it baby! Cum in me! Fill my ass!” She cried as her own orgasm hit. I guess in the heat of the moment she forgot she was supposed to be a good girl.

I pumped a huge amount of cum into her ass. My orgasm took me for what felt like minutes. This was the hottest moment of my life. I had to admit I liked the roughness of our sex too. It was something new to me.

“Are you okay?” she asked in what sounded like real concern when I became dead weight on top of her.

“Better than that,” I moaned as I rolled off of her. We lay there in silence for a while, both fighting to catch our breath.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said. I could almost see her shaking her head. She was calmer now.

“I know,” I said, surprising her by pulling her so that her head was resting on my shoulder. It was my turn to comfort her by playing with her hair.

“I feel so guilty,” she added.

“Don’t,” I replied. “If anyone should feel guilty it’s me. I did force myself on you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she sighed.

“Yes it is,” I insisted. “And the truth is that I liked it. I liked it a lot. And don’t you dare say I’m so much like my father again!”

“But you are,” she said. “But only in the ways I like. You’re not the type of guy to run out on his family.”

“No, I’m not,” I agreed vehemently.

“And you are a lot bigger where it counts,” she added. She was obviously trying to defuse my anger at my father. It would always be there, but she was right. This wasn’t the time of place.

“Thanks,” I said. “Knowing that helps.”

“Men!” she laughed.

“So, why did you come home early?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Ugh,” she stareted. “I had to quit my job. My boss tried to force himself on me while we were away, and not in the way I like.”

“That asshole!” I snapped, ignoring her attempt at humor. “I’ll...”

“Do nothing,” she said in that tone all mothers used. “He was my problem and I took care of him. You will stay away from him.”

“Okay,” I said, but it was too quick and she knew.

“Minho, I’m serious,” she said. “He hit on me all trip and it came to a head when we were at a presentation. Someone was up on stage giving a talk and my boss and I were sitting with the rest of the audience. He grabbed my leg under the table and tried to reach higher.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I dumped a glass of water over his head,” she said in satisfaction. “We were in front of most of his clients. It will cost him more than you think.”

“Should’ve sued him,” I said.

“I might,” she replied. “But that’s not a conversation for tonight.”

“Tomorrow then,” I said.

“Well see,” she said, and then changed the subject. “By the way, why aren’t you sleeping in your bed?”

“Sojun and Chaewon came over,” I said nervously. It was weird really. Only a few minutes ago I was in control, holding her down and taking her roughly to both of our enjoyment, but here I was afraid to tell her that we’d had a small party while she was out.

“You and Minjeong had a party, didn’t you?” she guessed.

“Just Sojun and Chaewon,” I said, but then added guiltily. “And Changho, Gyumin and Sojun’s new girlfriend Juhyeon. I thought you were her.”

“You thought I was your cousin’s girlfriend and you jumped me?” she asked.

“Well, she did climb into the bed I was sleeping in,” I said defensively. “Besides, you’d have to meet her to understand. She’s a bit wild.”

“So,” she sighed. “What you’re trying to tell me is that my daughter, nephew and niece are all in the other bedrooms with their significant others having sex?”

“I doubt they’re still at it,” I shrugged. She surprised me by laughing.

“You just better hope your uncle never finds out,” she said when her laughed died down. “He would completely lose it.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You seem to be handling it pretty well.”

“I’m not my brother,” she replied. “And after what we just did, I don’t have any moral high ground to stand on for the moment.”

“Well, that’s true,” I laughed.

“Minho, it’s not funny,” she sighed. “I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but that isn’t going to help tomorrow when we have to face what it means.”

“You know,” I said thoughtfully. “I like when you talk to me like this.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like a woman,” I replied. “Don’t get me wrong. I love you and appreciate everything you did for Minjeong and me growing up, but we’re adult now. Besides, I never realized just how hot you could be before.”

“That’s wrong on so many levels,” she sighed. “I’m your mother. I’m not supposed to be hot, at least not to you. Besides, we both know that you wouldn’t be saying that if the lights were on.”

I reached for the nightstand. She was clearly not expecting it when the light came on. It was soft and dull, but we’d been in completely darkness.

“Minho!” she cried, reaching for the covers. I rolled on top of her and held her in place. “Stop!”

“Relax,” I said. “I just wanted to prove you wrong. You’re just as hot in the light as in the darkness.” She froze and looked up at me. I smiled down at her.

She looked great. I knew that and so did she. She worked hard at keeping herself that way and her curves showed it.

“You know, whatever else I’d say about your boss, he has great taste.”

“Minho, get off of me,” she said, shaking her head, but smiling slightly.

“I would, but I seem to have a problem,” I said with a grin. She frowned briefly in concern, but she saw my grin and quickly realized the truth. The fact that my cock was bumping into her belly probably helped.

“No way.” she cried, but I ignored her and tried to kiss her. She twisted her face to the side and I ended up kissing her neck. I didn’t mind in the least. I worked my way up to her mouth. “Minho, we can’t… not again.”

“I want you.” I said between kisses. “And I want to look into your eyes as you cum.”

“No…” she cried again, louder.

“If you get much louder, you’re bound to get the attention of everyone else in the house. Could you just picture Minjeong’s reaction? Or uncle if one of his kids told him?”

“That’s my point.” She said. this time she kept her voice lower. “We can’t keep on doing this! We’ll get caught eventually and then what?”

“Good point,” I said, but then grinned and shrugged before adding, “But at the moment I could care less. I want you. I’m going to have you and that’s all that matters.”

She looked up into my eyes and saw that I was serious despite my grin. She licked her lips in a way that left me know she wanted it too. That was all I needed to know. I pushed my cock halfway into her pussy with one thrust.

“Stop….” she cried, fighting me once more. “I’m your mother…”

“You’re a hot woman that I want to make scream.” I growled. Her eyes got bigger as I thrust the rest of my cock inside her. She cried out and wrapped her arms around me. I started stroking in and out of her. Once again, I felt her nails on my back.

“Minho, I thought I raised a good boy.” she gasped as her orgasm neared.

“You did,” I replied. “But no one is good all the time. Not even you,” I said, “Now, be my slut and cum for me.”

“Nghhhyess…” she cried, her body locking up in orgasm. I watched her passion filled expression in awe. She really was beautiful. I’d remember this moment forever. She noticed me watching and added, “Minho cum with me… cum inside me.”

I grunted and let lose. I filled her pussy as she rolled into another orgasm. Our bodies slammed together over and over again until we were both completely spent.

“Tomorrow we’ll deal with the repercussions,” I said, holding her close afterward. “There must be some.”

“I know,” she sighed. She fell silent for a few minutes. I was starting to nod off when she shook her head.

“What?” I asked.

“You do realize that what we’re doing is incest?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted. “And you want to know the sick part?”

“What?”

“The knowledge is only making it better,” I answered.

“For me too,” she admitted, almost too softly for me to hear. “And I’m the mother. I should know better.”

“So do I,” I shrugged. “I’m not a kid anymore.” We fell silent for a while.

“So much for being a good girl,” she sighed eventually.

“Hey, we didn’t plan this. It just happened,” I said. “There’s no sense is beating ourselves up after the fact.”

“It has to stop,” she said.

“I agree,” I said.

“And you can’t sleep here tonight,” she added.

“I know,” I said. “I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room. Right after I take a shower.”

“Good,” she said, but I thought I heard a tinge of disappointment in her voice.

“You know mom,” I said innocently. “I bet you could use a shower too, and your bathroom has the nice big walk in one.” She looked at me and smiled slowly.

“Yes, it does,” she said. “I think I’ll use it first. You wait here and don’t you dare come in. It would be wrong!”

I watched her walk to her bathroom and smiled. She was seriously hot. I’d always know it, but it never really registered until now. Watching her ass wiggle as she walked made my cock stir despite my last orgasm.

I waited a few minutes until I heard her in the shower and then went to the door. I turned the knob and it opened. She hadn’t locked the door. I smiled widely and went in.

“Oh Minho. What am I going to do with you?” she asked, hiding a smile. She was standing under the shower as hot the water cascaded down her body. I shook my head as I watched.

“I have a few ideas,” I replied moving toward her.

“Don’t you dare,” she cried. “You can’t come in here!” Yet, I noticed she moved back from the door to give me room.

“We’ll see about that.” I snapped, opening the door and stepping in. I took her into my arms and kissed her roughly as she started fighting me. Oddly enough, despite her resisting me, somehow her hand found my cock and her tongue thrust deep into my mouth. This continued for some time.

“I want your ass again.” I growled when I couldn’t take it any longer.

“No…” she cried, spinning away from me.

She ended up standing on her toes with her hands against one of the shower walls. I looked at her ass and shook my head. It was round and full. My mouth literally watered.

“Please don’t kiss me down there again.” she cried as if to let me know what she wanted.

I dropped to my knees and buried my face between her ass cheeks. She cried out and thrust her ass out further, giving me better access. She was more than ready, but I took my time. Her ass tasted amazing and she clearly like how it felt.

“What are you doing?” she cried as I stood and pushed my cock against the entrance to her ass.

“Taking a good girl and making her my slut.” I whispered.

“No…” she said. I crushed her against the shower wall and shoved my cock deep into her ass and started riding her slowly.

I took her hair and pulled it into a ponytail and moved it to one side, giving me access to the back of her neck. It was pale white because she always wore her hair down. I licked it and she squirmed under me. I kissed it and her squirms became more pronounced.

“What are you doing?” she asked. The answer came without me realizing it.

“Marking what’s mine. Marking my slut.” I growled and started sucking hard on her neck. The mark I would leave wouldn’t be seen by anyone else as long as she wore her hair down, but we’d both know it was there. It was something that would last beyond tonight.

“No…” she moaned, but she pushed her ass back hard against my cock, forcing it in even deeper.

“Yes,” I snapped, pulling back and looking at my handiwork. She was marked, but it wasn’t dark enough. Not yet anyway, I kissed her neck again.

“Minho, you are going to make some girl very happy one day,” she gasped.

“I’d settle for you today,”

“I am happy,” she moaned. “It’s been so long since I had a real man and no one has ever gotten to me like you do.”

“Not even father?” I asked.

“Not even him!” she groaned. I could feel her fingers brush my cock as she played with her pussy. She was getting close. So was I.

I took her hips and started riding her ass hard. She moaned loudly and came. I continued to stroke I and out of her until she was done. After that I pulled out and spun her toward me.

Her eyes flashed hungrily as I pushed down on her shoulders. She dropped to her knees and reached for my cock, but I stopped her. I held her head with one hand at arms distance and pointed my cock at her with the other as I brought myself to orgasm.

“Open your mouth,” I demanded. She did as she continued to watch me hungrily.

The first few ropes sprayed her face and chest. Some of it made it into her mouth. She pushed my hand away and fell on my cock. I grabbed her head with both hands and fucked her mouth until I was done.

“You need to go,” she said once I was able to half focus again.

“You’re mine,” I said, still a little blurred from my lust.

“I remember,” she sighed. “And I am yours… for tonight.”

“For as long as that mark remains,” I said. She shook her head.

“I thought we agreed that this was just for tonight?” she asked.

“It’s the smart thing to do,” I said, standing up. She looked up into my eyes nervously. “But I’m not giving this up. I’m not giving you up.”

“And if I don’t want this to happen again?” she asked.

“I’ll take you against your will,” I shrugged. “And you’ll love it.”

“I know you don’t mean that. You would never force me if I really didn’t want to.”

“Mom,” I sighed, looking at her. “I’m not sure if that’s true with you. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” she said. “Go get some sleep.”

“Okay,” I said, but my mind wandered. My concern must have been plain on my face, because she took my chin and made me look into her eyes.

“Minho, don’t worry,” she said with a gently smile. “I know you better than you know yourself. You really wouldn’t force me.”

“I hope you’re right,” I sighed.

“I am,” she said confidently, and then added more softly, “But even if I weren’t it wouldn’t matter. I’ll always want you. I just don’t think it’s the right thing to do.”

“It isn’t,” I agreed, relaxing slightly. “And you’re right. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I kissed her one more time and slipped out of the shower. I dried myself quickly and grabbed my sweats and tee-shirt off the floor in her bedroom. I put them on quickly and took one last look at her bed before leaving. It was rumpled and stained with our pleasure.

It was the same bed I’d gained comfort from when I was a kid. Yet, now it was also something more. It dawned on me that my thoughts described her as well. She was the same person I knew and loved growing up, but now she was something more.

“Hey little brother,” Minjeong said as she flopped down on the couch cushion next to my head with a grin. “What are you doing sleeping out here?”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” I groaned as I sat up. “This couch sucks! I’m exhausted.”

“Weren’t you going to sleep in your mom’s room?” her boyfriend asked.

“That was the plan,” I sighed. “Until she came home.”

“Mom’s home?” Minjeong asked, no longer smiling.

“Yeah,” I replied as I stood and stretched.

“Oh shit!” Changho sigh. “She hates me as it is, and this isn’t going to help.”

I fought off a smile. Mom didn’t hate Changho. She didn’t hate anyone, but then again, he wasn’t her favorite person. Mine either for that matter.

“Does she know about the party?” he asked.

“Of course,she does,” Minjeong said, answering for me.

“Don’t worry,” I said to Minjeong. “I told her it was his idea. You should be okay.” I then turned to Changho and added, “Although, she did say something about wanting to talk to you this morning.”

“What?” he asked nervously.

“Relax,” Minjeong sighed. “Minho is just joking.”

“Very funny!” he said angrily. I shrugged.

“Changho, I think you’d better be going,” Minjeong said. “Mom’s an early riser and I don’t think you want to be here when she gets up.”

“I’m gone,” he said, giving Minjeong a quick kiss and making for the door. I frowned. This guy is annoying.

“Think we should wake up Chaewon and Sojun?” Minjeong asked.

“Probably,” I answered, forgetting about that dumb boyfriend of hers for the moment. “It will give them a chance to prepare.”

“Like you can prepare for one of mom’s lectures,” Minjeong sighed, but then added, “On the other hand, maybe they can slip out too. There’s no reason for everyone to have to face her wrath.”

“I’ll wake them,” I said.

I climbed the stairs quickly as memories of the night before drifted through my head. My hangover was bad and my head throbbed. Thinking was almost painful. I was also exhausted from trying to sleep on the couch.

The last question was the one that concerned me the most. I had no idea how to react, but I figured I’d work through it eventually. On the other hand, I was seriously worried about mom. I was afraid that there was a good chance she wouldn’t handle it at all. And then what?

I pushed open the guest bedroom door and forced the thoughts of the night before out of my head for the moment. Chaewon and her boyfriend Gyumin were asleep in the bed.

“Wake up you two.” I said, shaking the bed. Gyumin didn’t budge, but Chaewon opened her eyes.

“For God’s sake, why?” Chaewon groaned.

“Because my mom’s home,” I replied.

“Aunt? Oh shit!” Chaewon cried, and then started shaking her boyfriend.

I left the room and moved on to my bedroom. I pulled my shirt off as I went. I needed something to get me going. A shower was just the thing. I’d grab some clothes while I woke Sojun and his girl up. Maybe it would help with my hangover.

I threw open the door to find Juhyeon riding my cousin on my bed. The room smelled of sex. Juhyeon looked at me and smiled. I shook my head. She didn’t even pause in what she was doing.

“You two better hurry,” I said. “Because my mom is home and she’s bound to wake up soon.”

“Damn!” Sojun cried and pushed his girl off of him. Juhyeon clearly wanted to finish. I shook my head and went to the dresser.

I grinned to myself, remembering last night when I thought I was going to get a chance to do much more than just look. That hadn’t worked out, but something much different had.

“Minho, what the hell happened to your back?” Sojun cried as he stood and threw on his clothes. Juhyeon did as well, but she was moving slower.

“Looks like someone played with a tigress,” she grinned. It took me a second to realize what they were talking about.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking as quickly as I could. “I met a girl a couple of nights ago. She was wild.”

“She must have been.” Sojun laughed.

“You’d better get going,” I prompted. “Mom will be up soon.”

“Right!” he said.

“I’m right behind you,” Juhyeon said when Sojun looked at her impatiently. He nodded and left. I moved to leave and take my shower, but she stopped me by placing a hand on my shoulder.

“What?” I asked. She was looking at me oddly.

“Those scratches are new,” she said. “There’s no way they happened before last night.”

“No...” I began, but she covered my mouth with her hand briefly to silence my protests.

“Maybe I was wrong,” she smiled sexily. “Maybe you can handle my sister.”

“You’re older sister?” I asked. She nodded, getting very close.

“You must be wilder than Sojun describes,” she said. Juhyeon was so close that if I moved at all our bodies would touch. “Because those scratches are new and I’m the only girl not related to you in the house.”

“That’s- I...” I began, but she covered my mouth with her hand again.

“I know,” she smiled, her eyes burning into mine. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. It also doesn’t mean that it doesn’t get to me… on a purely sexual level.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that. It didn’t matter. Juhyeon removed her hand from my mouth and barely brushed her lips against mine before turning and moving toward the door.

“I’m looking forward to introducing you to my sister,” she said as she left the room. “It’s been a while since she and I double dated.”

I swallowed hard. It was such an innocent statement, but I thought there was more to it. She didn’t seem shocked at all by her discovery that I had an incestuous affair, only enticed.

“I’m sure it will be some double date,” I mumbled to myself, and then thought, ‘I think it’s time Sojun and I had a talk. I want to make sure he knows what Juhyeon is hinting at before I meet her sister.’

The shower felt good. My back stung as the water hit the scratches and I let myself dwell on how I got them for the first time since waking up. If nothing else, they were proof that the night before wasn’t a dream.

“Wow!” I said, shaking my head as the truth tried to sink it.

The whole situation from the night before was impossible, but it had happened. I knew that, and now I’d have to deal with the repercussions. I finished my shower, dried and got dressed. I even took the time to brush my teeth and dry my hair. I almost felt human again by the time I left the bathroom.

I could hear voices being raised downstairs. Mom was obviously awake and it sounded like Minjeong and her were going at it.

When I went to downstair, it was just Mom and Minjeong, and the others were nowhere to be found.

“Let me make you some breakfast before I’m leave,” Mom said, but poor Minjeong looked totally confused.

“What’s up with mom?” Minjeong frowned.

“Ease up on her,” I said softly. “Mom quit her job last night.”

“She what?” Minjeong cried, but then added, “Let me guess. It was her boss, he hit on her, didn’t he?”

“You knew about him?” I asked in surprise.

“No, but I guessed,” Minjeong sighed. “He had jerk written all over him. I’d better go in and make sure she’s alright.”

“Okay, but don’t push her,” I said. “She’ll tell you about it when she’s ready.”

“Minho, mom’s not the only one acting weird today,” Minjeong said, but then thankfully left the room before I could think of how to respond.

I moved on to the guest bedroom and clean it while he was in the shower. It didn’t take long and I had plenty to think about.

“Breakfast!” I heard Minjeong call up the stairs.

The meal ended up being surprisingly good. Mom seemed to be relaxing and I made sure not to do or saying anything to upset her. We were all laughing at one point when the phone rang. Mom picked it up.

-

“This is still my house and I don’t want it becoming party central or where you and Minho have your booty calls.”

“Booty call?” Minjoeng asked in surprise. “Where in the world did you hear that?”

“I’m old, not dead!” mom sighed.

“Who are you and what have you done with my mother?” Minjeong asked.

“Very funny,” mom sighed, glancing my way briefly. I’d intentionally remained quiet. “I guess last night opened my eyes up to a lot of things. It wasn’t just your party and sleep over.”

“I know,” Minjeong said. “Minho told me.”

“Heard what?” mom asked, clearly stunned. I knew what she was thinking.

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I guess I should have let you tell Minjeong that you quit your job.”

“My job?” mom said, shaking her head. “Ah right.”

“Are you okay?” Minjeong asked.

“I will be,” mom answered honestly. “It’s just a lot to take in all at once.”

“Don’t worry mom,” Minjeong said. “Minho and I will help.”

“We’ll be fine,” mom smiled. “I’ve got enough saved before I’ll have another job.”

“I still think you should sue him,” I grumbled. “Or better yet, let me pay him a visit.”

“No.” mom snapped. “I can take of him myself.”

We changed the subject and went back to finishing breakfast.

-

“I’m wiped,” I sighed.

“I guess that means I can’t convince you to help me clean?” Minjeong asked.

“You clean? That’ll never happen. Do you even know how to wash a dish?” I joked.

“Very funny,” Minjeong said. “You jerk.”

Minjeong really wasn’t much of a cleaner. She could do it when she put her mind to it, but that wasn’t very often. I wasn’t much better, but I’d been known to throw a load of laundry on every so often. I even vacuumed upon rare occasions.

“You aren’t serious, are you?” I asked.

“Yes I am,” she replied. “Mom had a tough day.” I frowned and nodded. I was very tired, but she was right. On the other hand, cleaning could wait a little while.

“How about we take a nap first?” I asked. “Mom will be out for a while.”

“Hmm,” Minjeong said thoughtfully. “That does sound good, but I need a shower first.”

“Enjoy,” I shrugged. “Bed time for me.”

Minjeong was first to the stairs. She climbed them and it actually took me a moment to realize I was staring at her ass.

‘Pervert!’ I snapped to myself, but then I shrugged. After what happened with mom, did it really matter? I took a few moments to think about my sister and her appearance. ‘Shit, Minjeong’s pretty hot!’

It wasn’t that I didn’t know what she looked like or that I thought she wasn’t attractive before, but I’d never truly looked at her as a girl. No, that’s not right. I’d never looked at her in a sexual way, and I was now. Fuck.

Minjeong had mom’s blond hair and was built athletically. Her ass was small, but rounded nicely from all the sports she played in high school and college. She was a gym teacher and it showed. Her breasts weren’t nearly as big as moms, but they were still pretty amazing on her tight body.

“What?” Minjeong asked when we reached the top of the stairs. She obviously noticed the attention I was giving her.

“You know,” I said, breaking one of the unspoken rules between us. “You could do a lot better than Changho.” I saw her start to swell up angrily, but then she stopped and sighed, letting out a breath.

“You’re right,” she said, surprising me. “It’s too bad really. He’s handsome and smart.”

“Pretty packaging doesn’t make a good guy,” I said. “And neither does brains. And what’s with the total lack of a sense of humor?”

“Okay little brother, ease off,” she said pointedly. I raised my hands with palm toward her in surrender. Minjeong rolled her eyes and laughed.

I’d learned long ago not to comment on her boyfriends. The fact that she hadn’t jumped all over me when I offered up my opinion about Changho said a lot about how close she was to dumping him already.

“See you in a couple of hours,” I said, entering my room. The clean sheets felt wonderful and I was out almost instantly.

-

I woke up slowly. It took me a few minutes to realize I wasn’t alone in my room. Minjeong had pulled my desk chair out and was sitting in it, facing me. She looked like she’d been there for a while. I looked at her and rubbed my face as I fought to wake up. Whatever was bothering her was bad.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting up.

“I couldn’t go to sleep after my shower,” she said. “I was thinking about how to break up with Changho.”

“I’m sorry,” I offered. She shrugged it off and continued.

“So, I decided to start cleaning,” she said. “I couldn’t vacuum with you sleeping so I did laundry instead.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I shrugged, fighting to get my mind fully functioning and wondering where she was going with this conversation.

“There were plenty of sheets to clean, so I started there,” she added, looking at me meaningfully. I still wasn’t processing well enough to follow her yet.

“Okay,” I offered. Minjeong frowned and shook her head before continuing.

“Can you imagine my surprise when I found four sets of dirty sheets instead of just three?” she asked. “Mom typically does laundry on Tuesdays. I was wondering why she stripped her bed this morning.”

‘Shit,’ I thought, finally catching on. ‘Oh shit!’

“So I opened them to see if she dropped something on them that might need special attention,” Minjeong continued. “They were a mess, but not really that much different than any of the other sheets. They were damp and cum stained.”

“Really?” I finally got out, my mind whirling. “I guess it’s true. Even moms need to take care of themselves.”

“Minho, there were fluids from both a woman and a man,” she said angrily. “What happened last night?”

I was tempted to deny everything and play stupid, but Minjeong wouldn’t fall for it, not after she saw my expression when she mentioned what she found. I’m sure I looked guilty as hell and Minjeong could usually read me better than anyone else other than mom.

I was also tempted to tell her that I took care of myself before mom came home and that she must have followed suit afterward, but one look into Minjeong’s eyes and I knew it was pointless, so instead, I told her the truth. It didn’t take very long.

“I can’t believe it,” Minjeong said, shaking her head.

“Honestly, me neither,” I sighed. “It’s not like I planned it.”

“But you didn’t stop it either,” Minjeong said pointedly.

“I was drunk!” I shrugged. “So was she and the truth is that we both needed it.”

“So, last night was the first time?” Minjeong asked.

“Yes,” I answered. We fell silent for what felt like minutes. I had no idea what to say and Minjeong was obviously trying to accept what she learned.

“Did you both enjoy it?” she asked, surprising me.

“I guess,” I answered uncomfortably.

“You guess?” she asked. “That’s it?”

“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “Yes, we both enjoyed it. Hell, it was the best sex I ever had, does that make you feel better?”

“It makes me feel left out,” Minjeong said glumly.

“It’s not like you weren’t busy with Changho,” I said.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she replied. “Ever since dad died it’s been the three of us together. Now I feel like I’m on my own.”

“Why?” I frowned. “Because mom and I accidentally ended up in the same bed and let our passions get the better of us?”

“Yes,” she shrugged. I knew it was an honest answer even if I didn’t understand it.

“I’m willing to cuddle with you if that will help?” I joked badly.

“If I thought it would help, I might take you up on it,” she sighed. “But I don’t. Besides, I’m not ready for that.”

“Minjeong, you know mom and I love you.” I said.

“Yes,” she smiled, but her eyes were sad. She stood and added, “I think it’s time for a nap of my own.”

I watched her leave the room and shook my head. What could I do to make Minjeong happy? I didn’t want to see her this upset.

‘I’d better let her sleep and see how she feels when it sinks in,’ I thought. ‘Hell, it’s barely sunk in with me.’

Minjeong slept a long time. I let her. I was just thinking about waking her when mom came home. She didn’t look happy.

“My brother can be so...” she began angrily, but I cut her off.

“We have bigger problems,” I interjected. “Minjeong knows.”

“Knows what?” she asked.

“She decided to do the sheets while you were out and I was sleeping,” I said. “She found the ones to your bed.” Mom shook her head almost numbly and sank down on the couch.

“She’s twenty-three and never done a chore without me nagging and today she decides to help?” she said, obviously stunned.

I got up and went to her wine rack. It was the only alcohol left in the house because we made it off limits the night before. I poured us both a glass and handed one to her as I sat down on the couch next to her.

“How did she react?” she asked after downing half her glass.

“Oddly,” I frowned. “She wasn’t so much mad or disgusted as hurt. She feels left out. She thinks we now have something special that she’s not part of.”

“That’s bad,” mom frowned.

“I’m sorry mom,” I sighed. “This is all my fault.”

“Not all,” she said, shaking her head. “If I really wanted you to stop last night, I could have made you, but it just felt so good.”

“Yes, it did.” I said, sipping mine.

We sat there for a while. We didn’t say much, but we did finish the bottle of wine quickly enough. Minjeong came down from her nap as I was opened the second bottle. I saw her frown, but she took the glass I handed her. The three of us looked at each other in silence for a few moments.

“I know it’s been a while,” mom suddenly smiled as a thought came to her. “But I think it’s time for movie night.”

“Movie night?” Minjeong asked in surprise. “Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“That’s a great idea,” I said quickly. “You’re never too old for a movie night.”

Every once in a while, when we were kids, mom used to set up trays in her bedroom. We’d eat and watch television, something she never let us do normally. Afterward, we’d settle onto her bed and watch a movie. Mom always let us stay up late and eat plenty of popcorn and candy. It was just the bonding experience Minjeong needed now.

“Minjeong, you can choose the movie,” mom said. “I’ll order from your favourite restaurant.”

“But...” Minjeong began. It was too late. Mom was already in the kitchen picking up the phone.

“What’s gotten into her?” Minjeong asked.

“I told her what you figured out,” I replied. “She wants you to know that she loves you.”

“You told her?” Minjeong cried.

“I had to,” I shrugged. “Your reaction before was bad.”

“I was tired and hung over!” Minjeong snapped, but I knew there was more to it.

“Just humour mom and go with it. She’s really worried about you,” I sighed, and then added more softly. “So am I.”

“I’m fine,” Minjeong said, a little too quickly.

“Good,” I said. “Then a movie will be fun.”

“I really should go find Changho and break it off,” Minjeong frowned.

“Give him one more night,” I said. “I never liked the guy much, but even he deserves one more night of believing he’s dating one of the hottest girl’s alive.”

“Very funny,” Minjeong sighed.

“Who’s joking?” I replied, but then hit her with a couch pillow before she could respond. It was a short, vicious fight and although I typically won, just this once I let her.

“Will you two cut it out?” mom snapped from the doorway, but she wasn’t really angry. How could she be? Both Minjeong and I were laughing.

“How long until the food is ready?” I asked.

“You have just enough time to put on your shoes and go pick it up,” mom grinned.

“I walked into that one,” I laughed.

“I think I’d better go,” Minjeong sighed. “You two have been drinking.” I started to argue, but mom cut me off when she realized Minjeong was right.

“We’ll have everything ready when you get back,” mom said. I nodded in agreement.

There wasn’t that much to do, but we busied ourselves with getting mom’s room ready. We also continued to drink the wine, only slower now. When the second bottle was gone, we both agreed to hold off on any more until after we ate. We were well on our way to being drunk.

“Minho, stop that.” mom snapped. She was standing at the counter getting the popcorn maker ready for later.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re staring at my ass!”

“I am?” I laughed, walking up behind her. She turned and faced me quickly.

“Don’t you dare…” she says. “Hasn’t what happened already caused enough trouble?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “But you know the old adage. You can’t go back. We have to move on.”

“Agreed,” she said. “And moving on entails never making the same mistake again.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said. “What happened was wrong, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a mistake.”

“Minho, you can’t be serious?”

“Oh, I am,” I said. “I really liked what happened. So did you.”

“I did not…” mom cried, but we both knew she was lying. “Okay, I was drunk and in need and you took care of it admirable, but it’s wrong.”

“And that makes it even hotter.” I groaned, pulling her into a kiss. she returned the kiss despite her protests, but when it was done she pushed me back with both hands.

“No…” she said. “Tonight is about Minjeong. We hurt her and that’s unacceptable.”

“You’re right,” I said, but then pulled her again. “But Minjeong isn’t here right now and just looking at you is driving me crazy.”

“Minho!” she cried. She spun away from me, but I had her trapped against the counter. I thrust my hard-on against her ass to let her know just how much she was getting to me. “We can’t… There’s no time…”

“I don’t know about that,” I grinned, lifting her skirt up past her ass and pushing her panties down. I was wearing sweats and they dropped past my cock easily enough. She was try to fight, but she thrust out her ass giving me access to what we both wanted. She moaned when I pushed my cock inside her pussy.

“Oh Minho…” she moaned. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” I grinned. “But I do know what you’re going to do for me.”

“There’s no time!” she moaned.

“Then hurry,” I groaned in reply, picking up the pace.

She was leaning over the counter as I fuck her hard. I was just starting to feel my orgasm approaching when I heard the front door open.

“Fuck.” I cried, pulling out quickly.

“No…” she moaned in frustration. “I was so close!”

“Sorry,” I said, meaning it. God, did I mean it?

“Just go stop your sister from coming in here.” she snapped. “If she walks in right now, she’ll know what we were just doing and that wouldn’t be good.”

“Agreed,” I said, pulling my sweats back up. I also pulled my shirt down and let it cover my front. It was the best I could do.

“Mom went crazy,” Minjeong said when she saw me. “There’s more food than we could eat in a week.”

“She’s really looking forward to this,” I said. “Let’s go set the food out upstairs. She’ll join us in a minute.” Minjeong must have sensed something because she looked at me funny. I guess it made sense. Only a few moments before I was stroking in and out of mom. That wasn’t something that was easy to hide, especially considering I had to stop abruptly just before my release.

I tried to focus on looking as innocent as possible, but I wasn’t sure I fooled Minjeong. On the other hands she didn’t say anything as we brought the food upstairs.

It was weird to be back in moms’ room after the night before. Scenes of what happened flashed in my head and they didn’t nothing to help calm down my already surging libido. I went to the bathroom and threw some cold water on my face after the food was set out. It helped.

The meal was delicious and we laughed and watched television during it. It was like old times except for the fact that my eyes lingered on mom overly long upon occasion. She would frown when she noticed until I looked away. I think Minjeong might have noticed once, but she just shook her head and took a sip of her wine.

The movie Minjeong picked was decent for a chick flick. We were all slightly drunk by the time it ended. We’d done a good job of denting mom’s wine collection, but the food balanced it.

“Another movie?” mom asked.

“Sure, why not?” Minjeong smiled. Mom and I exchanged a smile of our own. Minjeong seemed okay.

“Can I choose?” I asked.

“Please…” mom snorted. “I don’t want to watch something gory right now. The food is just settling in.”

“And porn is out too,” Minjeong joked.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” I teased back.

“And what makes you think I’ve never tried it?” Minjeong asked. She was clearly feeling no pain.

“Minjeong!” mom cried.

“Come on mom,” Minjeong grinned. “Are you telling me you never watched porn?”

“I haven’t,” mom shrugged.

“Wow,” Minjeong laughed. She was obviously drunker than I thought. “I would think in this day and age everyone’s seen porn, or at least a clip. I mean the internet makes it all so available.”

“Not me,” mom shrugged. “I worked with computers all day. Why would I want to be on one at night?”

“Mom, you really need to get a life,” Minjeong sighed.

“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” I asked in surprise.

“Oh please…” Minjeong said, rolling her eyes. “If mom had one, maybe she wouldn’t have had sex with you last night and ruined everything.”

“That’s not fair!” I said. Mom put her hand on my arm.

“Maybe Minjeong is right,” she said calmly, but her eyes were welling up with tears.

“Oh shit!” Minjeong sigh when she realized what she’d said and how badly mom was taking it. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“I know dear,” mom sighed. “But that doesn’t make you wrong. I don’t know why I let Minho do what he did.”

“You didn’t let me,” I said. “I didn’t give you a choice.”

“Oh Minho…” mom sighed. “Like I said earlier, you couldn’t...”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish. I grabbed her and kissed her. Mom was so surprised that she didn’t fight at first, but it wasn’t long before we were wresting on the bed. I rolled on top of her and pinned her under me before kissing her again.

“Wow.” Minjeong sigh, reminding me she was there.

“And that’s what happened last night,” I said, moving off with some difficulty. “She couldn’t have stopped me if she wanted to.”

“But I didn’t want to,” mom said, sitting up and wiping her lips. “And that’s really the point.”

“This is a lot more than just incest,” Minjeong said, shaking her head. “You two are seriously perverted!”

“And you’re not?” I asked. “I heard your bed last night. It was slamming into the wall pretty hard.”

“He’s my boyfriend! that doesn’t make me perverted!” Minjeong groaned.

“But you can’t say that you didn’t like what you just saw. I can see it in your eyes.” Mom said.

“So?”

“So, if you weren’t perverted you would have been disgusted,” mom replied. “Instead, you got excited.”

“I’m both,” Minjeong said.

“Maybe, but you’re a lot more of the second,” I grinned.

“I’m drunk,” Minjeong said again.

“We all are,” I shrugged. “What does that have to do with it?”

“It’s the alcohol making the sight of you two kissing turn me,” Minjeong said.

“I doubt it works that way,” I said.

“Drinking lowers your inhibitions,” mom put in. “It doesn’t make you like something you don’t.”

“Fine!” Minjeong snapped. “I’m just as perverted as you two! Does that make everything alright?” She ran out of the room before either one of us could answer.

“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “How did we get here?”

“I think we both know the answer to that,” mom frowned. “What we did was a mistake. I knew it then, but I didn’t realize how badly Minjeong was going to take it.”

“Me neither,” I frowned. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” mom said, and for some reason that shook me. Mom always knew what to do.

“I think we need to sleep on it and see how she’s feeling in the morning,” I finally said. Mom nodded.

“You need to sleep in your own bed tonight,” she said.

“Agreed,” I sighed, standing and going to my room without kissing her goodnight, but only because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop despite what was going on with Minjeong. I loved her and didn’t want to make her upset.

I lay in bed for quite a while, unable to fall asleep. My mind vacillated between my desire for mom and my concern for Minjeong. Hell, there was a part of it that even wondered what being with Minjeong would be like.

‘Pervert!’ I grumbled, but that only made it worse.

I closed my eyes and tried to wipe all the thoughts from my head. I pictured a white room with no corners. It was my version of counting sheep. It started to work.

“Minho?” I heard from the doorway to my room. It was Minjeong’s voice. “You still awake?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“I’m sorry about before,”

“Me too,” I sighed. “I know mom feels bad too.” Minjeong came into my room and sat on the edge of my bed.

“You know what all this goes to show?” she asked.

“What?”

“That I should never do laundry ever again,” she replied. “I would never have found out if I didn’t.” It was a weak attempt at humour, but it was an attempt nonetheless.

“The man you marry better be rich,” I teased. “He’ll need to hire a cook; a maid and god knows what else.”

“Ha Ha, Very funny.”

“Hey, the truth hurts,” I laughed.

“Jerk!” she snapped, but she was laughing too. It lasted far too long, but she obviously needed it.

“Minho, I want to go back to mom’s room,” she said afterward. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” I said. “But what for?”

“We always end a movie night by falling asleep together,” Minjeong said softly. “I miss that.”

“Well let’s go,” I smiled, getting out of bed and taking Minjeong by the hand. We went down the hall and knocked on mom’s door. The light was still on so I knew she was awake, but she took a few moments to answer the door.

“Come in.” she finally called.

I opened the door and led Minjeong in. I took one look at mom and saw that she’d been crying. Damn Minjeong noticed too, but didn’t say anything.

“Yes?” mom asked.

“Move over,” Minjeong smiled and climbed into mom’s bed. I moved to the other side and got in as well. Minjeong was already resting her head on mom’s shoulder. “Sorry mom.”

“No, I’m sorry,” mom replied.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I put said. “After a good night’s sleep.”

“Sounds good,” Minjeong said, reaching out the nightstand and shutting the light. “Good night.”

“Night,” mom said.

“Sweet dreams,” I put in. I knew I was going to have some. I was in bed with my her again and it was dark. I was sorely tempted to touch her, but I knew it would be a mistake. The thought of Minjeong being in bed with us didn’t help at all.

I’m not sure who fell asleep first, but I know I was last.

“Wow…” I heard as I slowly woke up. It was Minjeong’s voice again. “Is he always like that in the morning?”

“How should I know?” mom asked in reply.

“But you’ve seen it before,” Minjeong said, her voice a little excited. I was awake now, but I didn’t open my eyes. I had a feeling I knew what they were talking about. I could feel my hardness even with my eyes closed.

“Yes,” Mom replied nervously.

“You’ve felt it inside of you?” Minjeong asked. She knew the answer, but I guess she wanted mom to say it.

“Minjeong!” mom cried in surprise, but then slowly added, “Yes.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” mom admitted. “Very good.”

“He’s big, isn’t he?” Minjeong asked. “I mean, I know he’s bigger than Changho, but he’s big in general, right?”

“Minjeong, I have a feeling that you probably have as much experience with men as I do,” mom answered. “But I’d say yes. He’s big. He’s certainly bigger than your father.”

“Who would have thought it of my younger brother?”

“Maybe we should cover it up” mom said.

“No, leave it. I like looking at it.”

“But he’s your brother!”

“And your son,” Minjeong said pointedly. That quickly quelled mom’s protests. “I still can’t believe that you both really did it.”

“You and me both,” mom sighed.

“Do you regret it?” Minjeong asked. “I mean really regret it, not just feel guilty about it because it’s wrong.”

“I regret how it’s affected you,” mom replied. “Neither one of us wanted to hurt you.”

“I know that,” Minjeong sighed. “It’s just that it’s been the three of us for so long. I didn’t realize just how much the thought of you two excluding me from something would hurt.”

“Minjeong, you weren’t excluded,” mom said. “At least not intentionally.”

“But that’s how I feel,” she replied, sounding sad.

“So, you’d feel better if we’d included you in our perverted, incestuous affair?” mom asked in disbelief.

“I honestly don’t know,” Minjeong replied. “But maybe…”

“You’re serious?”

“It would be wrong, but I wouldn’t feel so alone like I do right now,”

“Oh Minjeong,” mom said. “Don’t cry. You know I love you with all my heart.”

“I do,” Minjeong said, obviously fighting back the tears. I felt guilty making believe I was sleeping through this, but ‘waking up’ right at this moment would only make things worse.

“Are you going to be okay?” mom asked after a while.

“I’ll be fine,” Minjeong replied slowly. “But only if you do me a favor.”

“What?” mom asked.

“I want you to kiss me,” my sister said. “Like you kissed him last night.”

“But you’re my daughter!”

“And he’s your son,” Minjeong replied. “That didn’t stop you.”

“I didn’t kiss him.” mom cried. “He kissed me.”

“True,” Minjeong said, and suddenly I could feel the bed move.

“What are you doing?” I heard mom cry. “Don’t!”

“I want to kiss you,” Minjeong said. “Don’t you love me the same you do Minho?”

“Of course, but you’re a girl.” mom argued.

“So?” Minjeong asked. “Haven’t you ever kissed a girl before?”

“No!” mom cried.

“Well, I have,” Minjeong replied.

“On God!” mom cried.

“It was a long time ago when I first started dating,” Minjeong said. “Chaewon and I practiced kissing each other.”

“Your cousin?” mom cried.

“Oh relax,” Minjeong sighed. “All we did was kiss. It’s no big deal.”

“Did you like it?” mom surprised me by asking.

“Honestly… yes,” Minjeong replied. “It was the best kiss I had for a long time, but I think that was mostly because it was also the most relaxed. Eventually I met some guys who kisses drove me far crazy.”

“Like your brother’s,” Mom said, sounding thoughtful.

“I don’t know,” Minjeong said. “I’ve never kissed him.”

“Why don’t we wake him and you can see?” mom offered.

‘Oh yes, please’ I thought to myself.

“Mom, I want to kiss you first,” Minjeong said.

“I can’t.” mom moaned. “I just can’t do it!”

“Then you do love Minho more than you do me” Minjeong said, obviously close to tears again.

“You’re wrong.” mom cried, sounding teary-eyed herself. It was time to wake up. This was only moments away from disintegrating into something very bad.

“Minjeong,” I said as I opened my eyes and sat up. “Weren’t you paying attention last night? Or just a few minutes ago when mom tried to tell you her problem with kissing you?”

“You’re awake!” mom cried.

“Of course,” I smiled.

“I don’t understand,” Minjeong frowned.

“She just told you that she didn’t kiss me,” I explained. “Mom thinks of herself as a good girl. She doesn’t do things like incest and lesbianism.” I laugh.

“But...” Minjeong began. I cut her off.

“She’s never going to kiss you,” I interjected. “But that doesn’t mean she’ll stop you from kissing her.”

“She just did,” my sister cried. “I tried, but she pushed me back.”

“Try harder,” I grinned.

“Hey, Wait a minute…” mom cried, but I silenced her by grabbing her by the neck and pulling her lips to mine. Mom fought at first, but then moaned softly into my mouth.

“See?” I said, pulling back. Minjeong was smiling once again.

“I get it,” she grinned.

“Don’t!” mom cried, but she licked her lips in excitement. “Good girls don’t kiss their mothers!”

“And whatever gave you the idea that I’m a good girl?” Minjeong laughed, taking mom’s head in both hands and kissing her. Again, mom fought, but only for a few moments. Minjeong moaned happily when mom’s mouth opened.

“That looks hot” I groaned.

“Don’t worry brother,” Minjeong grinned. “I have a kiss waiting for you too.”

“Just a kiss?” I asked.

“You’re terrible!” Minjeong laughed, shaking her head before leaning toward me. Her lips were only inches from mine when she stopped. “I shouldn’t. You’re my brother.”

I grabbed Minjeong’s the neck the same way I had grabbed mom’s moments before. I pulled her to me and our lips met. She didn’t fight me like mom, but it was obvious that she wanted me to be aggressive.

“That’s so wrong,” mom moaned excitedly.

“Oh, but he kisses so nicely.” Minjeong moaned.

“It’s not the only thing I do nicely,” I grinned.

“Don’t you dare.” mom cried.

“Think you’re man enough, little brother?” Minjeong asked, her eyes starting to burn with the same lust I could see in mom’s eyes. I was certain it was in mine as well. I took off the few clothes I had on. Minjeong did the same.

“Minjeong don’t… He’s your brother!”

“And you’re my mother,” Minjeong replied. “I wish I was a little braver because then I would try doing something more with you.”

“Oh shit.” I moaned, my cock standing straight out by now. “Now that’s hot.”

“You do like the thought, don’t you little brother?” Minjeong grinned, taking my cock in her hand and stroking it. “Or should I call you big brother?”

“You can call me whatever you want,” I groaned. “Just don’t stop what you’re doing.”

“How about we let mom help?” Minjeong asked. “I don’t want her to feel left out.”

“No.” mom sigh, but everything else about her demanded to be part of what was happening.

Minjeong forced mom’s head down to my lap. Mom fell on my cock despite her protests. Minjeong watched hungrily for a few minutes. Mom’s hair was in the way, so she pulled it into a ponytail and lifted it.

“What’s that?” Minjeong frowned, looking down at mom’s neck. The hickey I left was very noticeable.

“Mom said that we could only be together for one night,” I answered, remembering. “I disagreed and left that mark. I told her she was mine until it faded.”

“Do you always mark what’s yours?” Minjeong asked, smiling sexily. She was obviously enjoying teasing me.

“Yes.” I groaned. “Now why don’t you help mom?”

“Oh?” Minjeong grinned sexily before moving down between my legs as well. She pushed mom’s mouth off of me and started licking my cock. Mom shifted down to my balls and sucked gently.

“Oh fuck.” I grunted. “I’m not going to last long with both of you doing that.”

I had one hand on each of their heads and I couldn’t stop myself from thrusting up into Minjeong’s mouth. She locked eyes with me briefly and then took my entire length down her throat. I groaned and came. Minjeong drank it all down.

“We have to stop.” mom said afterward. Minjeong smiled at her and then pulled mom’s lips to hers and exchanged a deep kiss. It actually took me a few moments to realize they were sharing my cum.

“Damn.” I groaned, actually feeling my cock start to stiffen despite the orgasm I had moments ago.

“Little brother,” Minjeong said, pulling back from mom after a while and wiping her lips. She looked at me and I smiled knowingly. “Will you help me?”

In moments I was on top of her with my cock rubbing up and down her entrance. Minjeong took it in her hand and directed to her pussy. I pushed in slowly.

“Oh brother… yesss!” Minjeong cried. “You’re going so deep!”

“Minho no!” mom cried. “She’s your sister!”

I pulled mom to me and kissed her roughly. She gasped into my mouth. I reached out and palmed her pussy, thrusting the middle fingers deep.

“Don’t worry mom,” I said. “You’re next.”

“No…” she cried, but then shifted so that her mouth was next to my ear. She whispered one word and pulled away. “Hurry…” It surprised me and my cock stiffened even more.

“I’ve never felt so full before!” Minjeong gasped. I leaned forward and kissed her as I began stroking in and out of her hot pussy. Her pussy was perfect, it was tight! Minjeong wrapped her arms around my shoulder as I thrust into her.

“He’s your brother. You’re letting your brother fuck you!” mom cried.

“Oh yeah…” Minjeong moaned. “Keep talking mom. It’s only getting me hornier!” I saw mom smiled slightly.

“It’s so wrong.” mom cried. “I don’t care how good his big cock feeling pushing inside of you.”

“Ohhh It does… It does feel so good!” Minjeong moaned. “Minho’s cock is reaching deeper than any other guy ever has before! I can feel my orgasm building.”

“Wait until it hits,” mom said, looking at me hungrily and forgetting herself for a moment. “Minho knows how to make your body feel like it’s exploding.”

“Nghhyesss!” Minjeong cried.

“But that doesn’t mean you should let him do this,” mom added, staring at her expression once more. Minjeong’s face was completely lit with her lust. “Don’t let him fill your pussy with his cum!”

“Oh yess!” Minjeong moaned. “Fill my pussy! Please!”

“You are such a slut.” I groaned, kissing her roughly.

“Minjeong, you see?” mom asked. “Now your brother thinks you’re a slut, is that what you want?”

“I want him to cum in me!” “Minjeong gasped. “I don’t care if he thinks I’m a slut. I’ll be his slut if he just cum in me!”

“So you want to be his slut?” mom asked rhetorically, but she then surprised me by turning to me and added, “If that’s what she wants then you’re doing it wrong.”

“What?” I asked in confusion.

“Sluts get taken from behind,” mom smiled. “You know that.”

“Oh yes!” Minjeong moaned. “He’ll get even deeper than way!”

I pulled out without another word. Minjeong kissed me briefly before rolling onto her stomach. Her tight ass was same as mom’s, just as enticing. her pussy was open and inviting. My mouth literally watered.

“Wait… what are you doing?” Minjeong asked as instead of going back to fucking her I shifted lower and thrust my tongue into her pussy.

“That’s it,” mom cried. “Lick the little slut’s pussy!”

“Mom!” Minjeong cried.

“You said you wanted to be his slut, now deal with it!”

“Ohhh….” Minjeong cried. “You’re going to pay for that later!” Mom smiled again.

I continued to lick her pussy until she was on the brink of orgasm. She arched her back and gave me full access.

“Minho’s little slut, do you want to cum this way or do you want him to fuck you again?” mom asked Minjeong.

“Fuck me please!” Minjeong moaned. I shifted up and thrust my cock deep with one long stoke.

“Wow.” mom gasped.

“Ohhfuckkk!” Minjeong cried. “I’m going to cum…”

I was close, but not there. I fuck Minjeong through her orgasm. She shivered and shook for quite some time. The sight was something I’d remember forever.

“Stop!” Minjeong cried. “I can’t take anymore.”

I pulled out slowly and she sighed. I turned toward mom and she bit her lip. She saw my expression and saw the look in my eye. She looked frightened despite her excitement.

“Now,” she started. “Leave me alone, you’ve already had Minjeong.”

“Come here.” I demanded.

“No!” she cried and tried to get off the bed. I grabbed her and pulled her back on. Mom rolled onto her stomach, but her hips were raised high and I could see her excitement in her swollen lips and pink gasp. My tongue was drenched in her juices a moment later.

“Wow?” Minjeong said, shaking her head. “Mom, you’re a bigger slut than I am.”

“I am not!” mom cried and tried to get away. I’d barely tasted her, but she was ready. I forced my mother back onto the bed and pushed into her from behind. The sound of her ass made when my hips slapped into it was louder, more enticing.

“Mom, be ready for the ride of your life.” Minjeong said, shaking her head.

“I am…” mom gasped.

“So, you want me to do this?” I teased.

“No…” mom cried right away. “Get off me!”

“You first!” I grunted.

“Very funny,” Minjeong said, rolling her eyes at my bad joke. I could care less. I’d just fucked her and now it was mom turn.

“Minho, this is so wrong!” mom cried as she met my thrusts.

“It really is,” Minjeong said, smiling. “But you love every second of it and you know it! You love how his cock feels stroking in and out of you. You love the thought of him cumming deep inside you!”

“No!” mom cried, but then she locked up in orgasm. She shivered and shook under me for a long time.

“We can’t keep doing that,” mom sighed as she came down from her orgasm.

“Sure you can,” Minjeong grinned. “After all, he marked you as his that first night. I can still see the bruise.”

“Only until it fades,” mom shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever.”

“True,” Minjeong said, standing up. “And I don’t think it’s fair that he marked you as just his. I like to think of you as mine also.”

“I’m willing to share mom with you,” I said, standing as well. “I’m willing to share all the incestuous sluts in my life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Minjeong asked. I pulled her toward me and kissed her. Minjeong responded with just as much passion.

“That I want you to be my slut too,” I growled.

“I’m not marked,” she shrugs.

I shifted her around until I was behind her. I had one hand around her breast, pulling her back into me. My cock was lodged between her ass cheeks. I used the other hand to lift her hair off her neck. Minjeong’s head fell forward and I sucked on her neck.

“Yes…” she gasped. “Make me yours.”

I left a hickey on the back of her neck, just like mom’s. I also shoved her against the nearest wall and started fucking her again. Minjeong moaned with every thrust.

“Cum in me please…” she cried when her next orgasm was about to take her.

“Yess…” I growled and flooded her pussy with my cum.

“Ohh…” Minjeong cried as her orgasm exploded. “It feels so… good!” We both ended up against the wall panting and trying to hold ourselves up.

“You two better sit down before you fall,” mom said. She was watching us from the bed. I was pretty sure she’d been playing with herself as well, but she stopped after we came. I helped Minjeong to mom’s bed. We both all but fell in it.

“Mom,” Minjeong said. “Kiss me please. I want you to be part of how I feel.”

“Of course,” mom said.

“You know,” I said. “You two could do more than just kiss.”

“We’re not lesbians!” mom said.

“Mom,” I smiled. “Lesbian or not, you love her, it’s just a kiss.” I said.

“Or at least let me take it,” Minjeong smiled.

“Possibly,” mom admitted with a slow smile of her own.

“And one day I might,” Minjeong said, surprising us both. “But not today. I’m not ready.”

“No rush,” I smiled. “Why don’t we just spend the day in bed?”

“No,” mom said, sounding serious. “I have some stuff to get done.”

“And I have to talk to Changho,” Minjeong put in. “It’s bad enough you two have made me a slut, but I don’t want to be a cheating slut.”

“Oh Minjeong,” our mother said. “Must you talk like that?”

“Sorry mom,” Minjeong smiled. “I’ll hide what I am from the real world like you want me to. Besides, I’m really only my brother slut anyway.”

“What about mine?” mom asked.

“Nope,” Minjeong laughed. “You don’t want a slut. You want to be a slut.”

“I do not!” mom cried.

“Sure you do,” I put in.

“Until your mark disappears,” mom agreed.

“You know mom,” Minjeong said thoughtfully. “I think if I ever do take things further between you and me, I’ll need to mark you as mine too.”

“It only seems fair,” I grinned.

“Hey, you both know this can’t go on forever, right?” mom started.

“Sure,” I said.

“Of course,” Minjeong added.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while it lasts,” I added.

“Agreed,” Minjeong said, exchanging a look with me. We both obviously had the same thought. “I guess I can wait a little longer to tell Changho.”

“Don’t even think about it.” mom cried. Minjeong and I both moved toward her. Mom’s eyes flashed as she tried to get away and she protested loudly when we caught her. The only thing louder was a moan a moment later.

—

“Looking good!” I said as Minjeong walked by my room in nothing but a towel.

“Thanks,” she smiled, pausing at the door. She was blond and beautiful.

“Are you in a rush?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.

“Yes, so don’t even think about it.” she snapped, not buying it for a moment. She knew what I wanted. I grinned and shrugged. Minjeong smiled at my reaction, shook her head and then added, “Truthfully, I wish I did have the time, but it’s my week to oversee the early morning workouts in the weight room.”

“What a life,” I teased.

“Tell me about it,” she sighed.

“Please…” I snorted. “You love your job.”

“It’s okay,” she replied.

“Come on,” I teased. “How does it feel to know that you’re every teenage boy’s fantasy?”

“What?” she asked.

“Minjeong, you teach in high school,” I explained. “Not only that, you are beautiful. You’re the hot gym teacher every boy thinks about late at night.”

“Oh joy,” Minjeong said sarcastically. “That’s a picture I could do without.” I couldn’t help it but laughed.

“You love it though.” I teased. She shook her head again and didn’t bother arguing.

“Minho, make sure to wake mom up on time,” she said, changing the subject. “She’s got her third interview today.”

“I know,” I smiled. “Did you see how nervous she was last night?”

“She has a right to be,” Minjeong replied. “This job is perfect for her.”

“She deserves it,” I smiled. “I can’t believe how quickly it’s moving.”

“It was pretty cool when she got a call from her old company’s biggest competitor the morning after she quit,” Minjeong said.

“Yeah,” I smiled. “She’ll do fine.”

“Fine?” Minjeong frowned. “She’ll do great!”

“True,” I laughed. “I just wish she didn’t have to fly across the country and spend days at their corporate office.”

“Oh, don’t worry” Minjeong smiled. “Mom will be home before you know it. Besides, I’m still here. I’ll take care of you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I laugh. “You can’t cook and your cleaning leaves something to be desired.”

“Jerk.” Minjeong laughed.

“On the other hand, there are some things you do very well,” I said, smiling slowly.

“Not if you keep being so mean to me,” Minjeong said pointedly and moved past my doorway.

I smiled contently. It was only two weeks since mom quit her job and everything changed so drastically at home. We were all happier now. I wasn’t sure it could last and mom kept bringing up the fact that it couldn’t, but right now I was enjoying myself immensely.

I heard Minjeong leave the bathroom and go into her bedroom. She was done there surprisingly fast. She was one of those morning people. Ugh!

“I’m leaving,” she said as she stopped by my doorway on the way out. “Go wake mom up.”

“What I have to do it?” I asked, far too comfortably to move.

“Mom needs something to help relieve her anxiety about the interview and you’re it.”

“Are you crazy?” I laughed. “She’ll be wired! If I try and go near her...”

“That’s the point,” she interjected. “Do what you always do and don’t give her a choice. She’ll thank you afterward.”

“You could do it,” I offered hopefully.

“No, I can’t,” Minjeong said.

I sighed, reading her expression. “I get it.”

“The thought of mom and me together must really turn you on,” Minjeong said, looking at me thoughtfully. “You bring it up all the time.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Let me think? My mother and sister in bed together. Two beautiful women driving each other crazy. You bet.”

“Pervert!” Minjeong laughed.

“Takes one to know one,” I called as she disappeared down the hall. I heard her leave a few minutes later. “I guess I should wake mom.”

The trip to her room was short. I didn’t bother putting any clothes on. I opened the door and saw mom sleeping in her bed. The sight made me smile.

Instead of shaking her awake, I climbed into bed next to her and pulled her into my arms. She didn’t wake up at first. She snuggled closer instead. I hugged her tight and then kissed her gently.

“Now that’s the way to wake up,” she moaned, returning my kiss.

“Only the beginning of it,” I replied, giving her another kiss before slipping under the covers.

“Minho, what are you doing?” she asked groggily. I ignored the question.

The answer was obvious.

She slept in the nude these days as well. We all did. Frequently we ended up together on the weekends, but most weekdays we slept in our own beds because otherwise we’d all be too exhausted the next day.

“Hey stop!” she gasped when I buried my face between her legs. “I have to get ready. I don’t have the time.”

“Sure you do,” I disagreed, running my tongue up and down the length of her pussy.

“We shouldn’t.” she moaned, spreading her legs and giving me better access.

She tasted just as amazing as always. She had plenty of time before she needed to leave for her flight and I planned on making it memorable. It wasn’t long before my tongue was working her clit just the way I knew she liked it.

“Oh…” she moaned as her orgasm neared. “You’re tongue is so…” I thrust a finger inside of her in response.

“Cum for me.” I demanded.

“Nghhnooo…” she cried, fighting the inevitable. A few moments later her orgasm took her. I licked and sucked until she was done.

She was smiling contently as I moved from under the covers to lie next to her. My lips were still damp with her juices, but she didn’t hesitate in kissing me. She was obviously ready for more despite her orgasm.

Her hand found my cock and she stroked it, not that I needed the stimulation. I was already hard. On the other hand, it did feel really good. I enjoyed what she was doing for a few moments before pulling her on top of me.

She gasps of surprise quickly turned into a moan when I took her hips in both hands and shifted her body until my cock was lined up with her pussy. She was still soaked. I pushed my cock up into her.

“Oh… this is new.” she cried, obviously enjoying the position as I held her hips steady and thrust into her a few times.

“It’s because you like to play hard to get,” I laughed. “I usually have to chase you and hold you down.” I thought she was going to pull off of me.

“You’ve corrupted me…” she whispered lustfully as she started slowly moving up and down.

“So you like having sex with me now?” I teased.

“I’ve always liked it,” she answered in that same lust filled tone. “It’s just so wrong!” I reached up and cupped her breasts.

“But that’s the part you love best, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes…” she admitted, squeezing down on my cock. “And that’s why I keep saying we have to stop. Minho, the last couple of weeks with you and your sister were completely wrong in so many ways, but the truth is that I’ve never been happier. I love you two with all my heart and the pleasure we share, sick and twisted as it is, is more than I could ever have hoped for, but it can’t last forever.”

“I don’t want to talk about that now,” I groaned. “Instead, why don’t you tell me how it feels to ride my cock?” She looked down at me and bit her bottom lip.

She looked ready to continue her argument. I thrust up into her with more strength and pinched both of her nipples gently. She gasped. I could feel her giving in slowly.

“Incredible.” she finally moaned, picking up the pace. She was now bouncing on my cock slowly.

“Focus on that and nothing else.” I demanded.

“Nghhh.” she gasped; her argument forgotten. “Your cock is so big. It fills my insides completely.”

I reached up and pulled her toward me. I kissed her passionately and then shifted her just enough for me to kiss her full tits.

“You like my breasts?” she asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear me say it.

“They’re perfect.”

She smiled and leaned forward, propping herself up with her arms and dangling them in my face. She swayed slowly, teasing me. I enjoyed it for a few moments, but could only take so much of that.

I knocked her arms out of the way and buried my face between her breasts as her torso fell on me. I held onto her hips tighter and started thrusting up into her with short fierce strokes.

“Yes!” she cried as our bodies slapped against each other. It didn’t take long for her orgasm to build. I rolled us around until I was on top and continued stroking in and out of her, only now my thrusts were much longer and deeper. Her nails racked across my back.

“Try not to draw blood this time,” I groaned.

“It’s not like I do it on purpose.” she gasped.

I grabbed her hands and held them above her head, against the bed. She looked up at me and smiled. Her expression was one of lust. I took her beauty in and shook my head.

I held her like that while I thrust in and out of her over and over again, getting faster as time went by. I watched her expression as her orgasm threatened. There was nothing more beautiful to me then the passion that filled her eyes at the moment of release.

“Tell me.” I whispered, close to losing it. “Tell me what you want.”

“Don’t make me say it…” she cried. I stopped stroking for a moment. “No, don’t stop!”

“Then tell me.” I demanded. She gave in quickly.

“I want to feel your big cock buried inside of me!” she cried. “I want you to hold me down and fill me with your cum!” I thrust deep into her pussy.

“Hmm yess…” I grunted and came. She was right behind me. We shivered and shook through our mutual orgasm for quite some time.

“Thanks,” she said with a sigh afterward. “I needed that.”

“Minjeong thought you would,” I grinned, rolling off of her.

“Smart girl,” she smiled. And add, “But what we’re doing is almost over.”

“Over?” I asked in surprised concern.

“You said until the mark you gave me disappeared… It’s almost gone.” She lifted her hair to show me her neck. The hickey was still there, but it was fading. The sight of it stunned me. She walked into her bathroom before I could say anything.

I heard the water turn on as I lay there. I sat and thought for a few minutes.

-

“Minho?” mom groan as I walked in on her. “What are you doing in here?”

I didn’t bother responding. I simply walked into the shower, spun her around and pushed her against the wall. I pulled her hair into a ponytail and moved it out of the way.

“No!” she cried when she realized what I was doing, but by that time it was too late. My lips were latched onto the back of her neck. She fought, but I held her tight as I kissed and sucked on her neck until the hickey was bright once more. I let her go then and she turned to face me.

“I don’t want this to end,” I said. “Not yet.”

“But...”

“I won’t let it end!” I interjected more strongly. “You’re mine until my mark fades. That was the deal.”

“You cheated,” she said, shaking her head.

“So?” I shrugged, pulled her body against mine and kissing her hungrily.

“Minho!” Shhe moaned. “You shouldn’t have this kind of an effect on me!”

“You’re mine.” I said.

“For as long as the mark lasts,” she said between kisses. “That was the deal.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” I smiled.

“Get out,” she said as she shook her head and laughed. “I really do need to be going soon.”

“You’d leave me like this?” I asked, motioning toward my hardening cock. “Excited and alone? What kind of mom are you?”

“The worst kind,” she said, but then dropped to her knees and took my cock into her mouth.

“You mean the best?” I groaned, taking her head with both hands and stroking my cock between her lips.

She locked eyes with me as I fucked her mouth. She never once looked away. It didn’t take long for me to cum. The sight of her watching me and swallowing as I spurted rope after rope of cum down her throat only made my orgasm last longer.

“Can I return the favor?” I asked, leaning against the shower wall to hold myself up. She started to stand and I reached out one hand and helped.

“When I get back,” she smiled. “We really don’t have the time. If I don’t get going right now, I’ll miss my flight.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I promised.

“I know,” she said, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry,” I added with a grin.

“You my son, have a one-track mind,” mom sighed.

“I wonder where I get it from.” I joked.

“Not me.” she laugh. “I’m a good girl.”

“Sure you are,” I agreed easily, slapping her ass playfully and laughing as I left the shower.

“Hmm,” she sigh sternly. “You and I have to talk about the correct way to treat a lady.”

“I’m willing to listen,” I replied as I dried myself. “But I’m reasonably certain you’ll miss your plane if you try and explain it right now.” She shook her head.

“Another time,” she said, fighting off a smile.

“I can’t wait,” I grinned.

She made it out of the house in plenty of time. The car the company sent to take her to the airport was only waiting a few minutes before she was ready.

“Good luck,” I said as I put her bags in the trunk. “Not that you’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” she said, getting into the car.

I waved and smiled as she drove away. I had just enough time to get a couple more hours of sleep before I had to get up and ready for class. I needed it. Mom had a way of completely exhausting me, and the thought of what might happen this weekend with Minjeong made me smile with anticipation.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch7. if u wanna get groceries

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 7/x

ᰔ words. 10.3k

a/n. hiii my ihm darlings!! i don't have much to say in this beginning author's note haha but i have some author's notes at the end if you want to read them. but anywho hope you enjoy this chapterrr :)

nav. masterlist

Ovulation is a very scary thing.

You can imagine many great women have had their lives greatly affected by this phenomenon. 

This biological release of an egg into the fallopian tubes, simply desiring to be fertilized.

Women who have had their hearts set on their dreams, aspirations, full speed ahead towards the finish line on the other end,

Only to be dragged back by–

You shudder to even mention.

Attraction to a man. 

So horrible.

So insane.

So humiliating.

And yet so–...

So natural.

Unfortunately.

You’re pretty sure Sabrina Carpenter has a song about it.

This is what you think of as you lean over the kitchen island, perched up on your elbows as you eat a peach, staring straight ahead at a certain fake husband who is seated on the couch. 

He’s looking at the TV, watching some SNL skit he didn’t get to finish last weekend, tilting his head side to side with his grey sweatpant clad legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He’s got a can of Celsius he’s swirling around with a loose grip, his elbow up on the cushion for a more lax resting state (which unfortunately also flexes his bicep very sexily from the positioning), and he doesn’t really seem particularly amused by what he was watching. And for some reason, it was hot.

You tilt your head to the right, watching him like a predator from across the hall, chewing down on a particularly juicy piece of peach that bursts its juice in your mouth, and you curse the fact that all you can think about right now is sex.

Sex.

When was the last time you had sex?

You postulated a little over a month ago when you and Choso were still together.

Granted, you’ve been too busy and overwhelmed and overstimulated with all the recent happenings of late to provide your own self with any sort of relief.

And God, it was showing.

Showing in the way that, no matter what, you can’t seem to shake the idea of wanting to sit in Gojo’s lap and be the second reason he never gets to finish watching that SNL skit. 

Maybe it will help.

Maybe sitting in a man’s lap right now would heal you.

You set the now naked seed of peach down on the counter before straightening yourself up and walking around the kitchen island towards the living room. Gojo’s eyes don’t flicker to you until you’re well in his periphery, and when he looks up at you, he straightens himself up on the couch with curious wide eyes and drags his feet off the coffee table to plant his feet on the rug.

You pull your grandma nightgown up to your knees so that you can sit in his lap, surprise evident on his face as he watches your every movement before you’re comfortably seated on him with your hands on his shoulders.

“Fuck me,” you tell him.

“Wh–” he stutters, “I’m sorry, I could’ve sworn you just told me to fuck you.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” The heels of your hands press into his chest further to the point where it has to hurt. 

“Is this a prank,” he asks as his hands fall to hold your hips on reflex.

You sigh, shifting around on his thighs. “Can you just do it already before I change my mind?”

“Wow. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright. I’ve changed my mind.”

You push off of his shoulders and stand up on one leg, ready to get up and away from him to find some other way to satisfy your desperate desire for a penis, but he reaches out to grab your wrist.

“Heyyy wait wait wait,” he says, pulling you back into a seat on his lap. “Why do you want to have sex all of a sudden?”

You exhale slowly, twiddling with your thumbs as you look at him. “You said it yourself the other day,” you say, “good way to relieve stress.”

“And you’re not gonna kill me afterwards?”

“Umm no promises?”

“Look, as much as I’d like to take you up on the offer, a part of me thinks you’re making a…rash decision here.”

“Oh my fucking god who cares if I am?? Maybe I just wanna fuck for the sake of fucking?? What’s the big fucking deal??”

“The big deal is that, knowing you, you’re not going to speak to me or look me in the eye for three weeks if I let you go through with something you’re not a hundred percent on.”

Your shoulders sulk a little. You thought this would be an easy yes, where he tears your nightgown off and then ravishes you whole on this couch with every primal caveman instinct that’s encoded in his XY chromosome DNA. This was supposed to be spontaneous and sexy…not a candid conversation.

The thought flashes through your head that maybe he thinks that you’re just trying to use him.

“I want to have sex with you,” you clarify. And then a pause. “I think.” You pause for a moment again. “I’m, like, pretty sure.”

He slides you back to where you’re sitting closer to his knees than to his groin, and then fully leans back onto the couch before tucking his hands behind his head like he was physically putting himself in cuffs to prevent himself from touching you any further. “Tell you what. Let’s circle back in an hour, and if you still want to, then sure.”

“I cannot believe how diplomatic you’re being about this.”

“Well isn’t this whole thing between us a diplomatic agreement? That’s what you said to me when we got fake engaged.”

“That–” you blink at him, not expecting those words to eventually be used against you, “...whatever.”

“Also, what happened to the no sex rule?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grins and leans forward, both of his elbows settling onto the top of the cushion behind him, and you’re proud of yourself for only staring at his biceps for 0.000034 seconds before meeting his line of sight again. 

“Are those rules just suggestions?” he asks with a stupidly teasing look on his face. 

You purse your lips together, skin feeling warm suddenly as you try to push him away by a palm to his sternum. But then you realized something. A fundamental rule of biology. The woman never chases. 

You smile at him, cheeky in a deceptive way that’s meant to scare him, and it does seem to alarm him when you push him back onto the couch rather forcefully. His hands fall to hold your hips again as he looks at you with round eyes, and you scoot forward on his lap, to where you’re almost sitting right above his groin. 

“Hey–” he says, like a warning. 

Like some awful romantic comedy, you’re drawing the tip of your nail down the front of his chest seductively, leaning forward so he catches the faint scent of the perfume you spritzed onto your skin in the morning, and you can tell it’s working from the way he tips his chin up in interest. You innocently “shift” in his lap to get comfortable, and see his throat bob when he swallows hard from the feeling. The finger that’s been running down the soft linen of his shirt trails up until it runs through the hair at the back of his neck, and he’s pulling you closer to him now by a rough grip on your hips. His breathing picks up, eyes somehow wild yet calm as he looks at you with a set jaw, and you try your best to maintain a sultry expression as you tilt your head down at him while strongly fisting at the longer strands of his hair that fall short at the nape of his neck. He shifts underneath you, sinking further into the couch, his breathing fast enough to where you can see the rise and fall of his chest, his gaze finally dropping to your lips as he parts his own, and he briefly runs his tongue over his bottom lip before–

Before the doorbell rings. 

You both blink at each other.

You don’t even realize how close you two were to making out until you realize you can’t even see the tip of his nose anymore. 

“My, uh,” he starts, voice sounding gruff so he has to clear his throat, “my wood just came.”

“Y–” you glance down at his lap, “your wood just what?!”

He leans away from you, sinking his back into the cushion and pointing over his shoulder with a thumb towards the door. “The cedar planks I ordered to finish my woodworking project. Pretty sure they just got dropped off.”

You blink at him, releasing the grip you still had on the hair at the back of his head, your arms moving to weakly rest on his shoulders instead. “Oh.”

“I’ve gotta go sign the delivery.

“Okay.”

“Sometime today, preferably.”

“Alright.”

“Can…can I head to the door? Is that allowed?”

“...I suppose.”

His fingers that were still resting under your butt in a strong grip push up gently on the flesh to prod you off of him, and you (reluctantly) swing your legs off of his lap then slump down onto the couch indignantly beside him, twiddling with your thumbs as you watch him get up off the cushions with a small grunt from the push of his palms on his knees. And then he heads to the door.

Continuing to assess your cuticles with the tuck of your chin towards your collarbone, you hear Gojo talk to whoever was at the door. Another masculine voice. Sounds younger, probably younger than you. Delivery boy. Gojo makes easy conversation with him, some buddy-buddy diction that’s entirely lost on you, and you hear the other man laugh. And the fact that you feel equally as possessed to want to fuck the delivery man makes you realize you need to put yourself in a cage the next time you feel like this.

You hear the door close along with the metallic click of the lock, and you peak your head up over the top of the couch to look at Gojo, who is leaning a giant cardboard box that looks really heavy against the wall. He then exhales, dusting his hands off and he’s stretching his neck from side to side again.

He glances over his shoulder to find you still looking at him.

“You woodwork?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Is that the noisy thing you do at six in the morning while I’m trying to sleep after a night shift?!?!”

“It’s not that noisy,” he says, leaning back onto the wall and crossing his arms. Then he grins. “Want to see what I’m working on?”

“No.”

“Oh come on.” He jerks his head towards the kitchen leading out to the screen door of the backyard. And then he’s shuffling his feet off into that direction. “Humor me for once.”

You slide off the couch onto the floor, grumbling something to yourself before you stand up onto your feet and shuffle your feet across the hardwood floor to follow him, the hem of your nightgown sliding across the surface.

Gojo pulls the screen door back and you step out into the pleasant afternoon. It’s sunny, with crisp air that settles on your senses, the casted shadows of clouds that slowly pass over the grass reminding you of your childhood, or perhaps of simpler times.

You step into the flip flops you see near the shoe mat, and they are nearly twice the size of your feet. Gojo opts for the dustier pair located behind the grill and then he walks across the grass of his backyard towards the shed tucked away near the side of the house. You’ve always been able to briefly see this shed from one of the windows in your house, but you could never see what went on inside. 

He unclasps the metal lock on the wooden door of the shed and pulls it open with a creak. You peer inside, the smell of wood shavings and some other rather comforting chemicals hitting you almost instantly. You also sneeze. And then sneeze again.

“Bless you,” he says, and when you glance at him, he’s smiling at you before he takes a step inside. You cross your arms and rub your elbows, feeling feeble in your ditsy nightgown as you step into a space that looks far too industrial for you. 

“See?” Gojo says once you’re fully inside the shed with him, drawing your gaze from the dusty ceilings towards the covered structure in the center of the workspace. He pulls the blue tarp back, revealing something square-looking. “It’s a coffee table.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you tilt your head to assess it. “Oh. It’s–...it’s actually quite nice.”

“Yeah.” He knocks on the surface with his knuckles. “It’s pretty sturdy. I’ve been looking to replace what I’ve got in the house for a while now. And–” he straightens himself up again, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “That wood I just got delivered is black walnut. Stunning stuff. I’m going to use it to finish the corners and the cabinets.”

“Ahhh,” you say, expressing interest. I mean, you were intrigued by his many strange hobbies. How can you explain this…you suppose after many years of working, sleeping, eating, and taking care of your mom, it's somewhat pleasantly disorienting to find yourself in the middle of a normal person’s life. Someone who has time to woodwork in his free time. Endearing. It was kind of endearing. 

“I’ve gotta flip it over though,” he says with a sigh, “I fucked up and forgot to build the base first.”

You lean back on one of the cabinets behind you that was level with your hip, and you watch Gojo for a moment as he bends down to assess all angles of the table before he grips the underside of it with his hands, the strength of his grip evident in the strain of the veins running up his arms and disappearing into the short sleeve cotton of his shirt. 

But he glances up at you before moving it. “Can you stand over there?”

“Huh?” You blink at him.

“Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize you were standing in quite literally the exact zone of potential danger. You make a mental note to work on your survival instincts. 

You lean off of the cabinet and step off to the side. 

You watch as he begins to lift up on the table, his biceps flexing with the movement, oh and that grunt that leaves his lips once he’s got it at the angle he wants hits you somewhere you wish it didn’t. The sight of him leaning over, letting out a slow exhale as he slowly sets the table down on its side over the cushioning mat had you in a trance. 

Once he’s satisfied with wherever it’s at, he steps away from it and dusts his hands off. “Alright.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Got an hour to work on this.”

You nod at him.

He glances over at you. 

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

“Did–...did you wanna watch?”

“Nope,” you say, shuffling your slippers to the other side of the door. Because you fear that catching the sight of him all sweaty and disheveled from woodworking would get you into serious trouble today. At least you know when to call it quits.

In the hour that Gojo spends doing god knows what sort of manly sorcery in that shed, you get dressed into something that wasn’t a cozy nightgown much to your dismay, and head over to your house next door. You figure you could use this time to clean up the place a little so that you can take pictures for the house on Zillow. 

When you step inside the house, the nauseating smell of medication hits you. It’s a smell that you can only know if you’ve lived with it for years. Something artificial, something that smells–...well, sick. It’s a scent you associate with sickness. It hits you randomly sometimes with the patients that you treat at the hospital. Patients that smell just like your mom does. Something akin to a pill closet. You’ve always cursed the human tendency to assort semantics to certain senses, because then it only takes away all the healing you thought you had gotten through.

You walk down the hall towards your mother’s bedroom. You figured you’d start here first, since it would be the most difficult to clean for you. Her bed is set up neatly, exactly as you left it before she left for hospice three weeks ago. 

Her well-worn rocking chair sits near the window with the old knit blanket she made over twenty years ago draped over it. It faces the window instead of the inside of the house, which was a habit she always had throughout her life. Maybe as an art teacher, she always felt that whatever was outside was more intriguing than within. 

You run a hand by the sturdy wooden dresser covered in dust and scattered medications, along with all of your mother’s draped headscarves. She liked to change them every day, the pattern of each of them aggressively absurd and somewhat hypnotizing, but it fits for her age–that sort of clothing. Your mother used to have beautiful hair. It was something all her friends had always been jealous of. She made the decision to shave it all off rather than watch as it slowly detangled from her hair from chemo, and she claims to have stashed it away somewhere, but you know that she likely donated it instead.

When you make it to her desk, you see paint splattered over it with a rusted easel holding up a blank canvas. But there were swipes of paint across the palette, as though she were trying to find the perfect blend of colors, but failed before she could put brush to canvas. Beside her little art setup, you see a little sticky note with scribblings on it.

Morning tea

Medications- Gabapentin 600 300

Today is Thursday. Oct 16th

800 432 5555 call Dr Johnson 

Turn off the stove

At the very bottom:

- daughter. Nurse. She loves you

You suck a deep breath in, releasing it slowly.

This was an impossible task.

To stuff all of this away into boxes. 

All of this life.

You slowly peel the sticky note off the desk, folding it neatly before placing it into your pocket. Then you start with the canvas, the easel, the paint. Exactly as is, without cleaning anything at all, you stache them away into boxes. You wanted to preserve what you could, even if it was all for show.

By the time you finish cleaning out her desk, you feel winded from emotions. You decide to take a break and try to clean whatever was upstairs instead. Before you leave the room, you see another sticky note written behind the door.

remember ! wear your sweater, it’s cold today

And that’s when you start crying. 

.

.

.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

”Hey,” you say as you walk back into Gojo’s house in the early afternoon, holding up a digital camera that you found in the attic in your hand. “The upstairs of my house is cleaned out now, and I’m almost done with the downstairs part…just waiting on finishing one room. Can we start taking photos to put the listing up online?”

Gojo glances up at you from where he’s stood in the kitchen, tugging at his sleeves, and you just now notice he’s dressed up in a dark navy suit with a white shirt underneath. No tie. “Uhh yeah I can help you with it, I’ve just gotta go run a few errands and then we can do it when I get back?” He ruffles his hair a bit and you see that it’s slightly damp like he just took a shower.

“What errands?”

“Gas, amazon return, Costco. Maybe get a donut if I’m feeling like being a bad boy.”

“Ew. Also, why don’t you get gas at Costco?”

“It’s a little cheaper at Sam’s Club.”

You gasp. “You have a Sam’s Club membership??”

“Yes.”

“You’re a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes as he pushes his shoulders back to get better settled into his suit jacket. “I have a Costco membership too.” 

“Can I come?”

“What? For–...for the errands?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at you from the other side of the island, brow furrowing slightly. “Uh. Sure?”

You know it sounds silly to say, but not having to take care of someone twenty-four-seven has left you with little to no sense of purpose, and an even more intense feeling of loneliness. And as much as Gojo gets on your nerves from time to time, you’ve noticed that you’ve been…craving his presence lately. Or maybe a presence might be more accurate than any one specific person, but you can comfortably admit it to yourself that you’re a somewhat codependent person that enjoys being largely implemented into someone’s life. You’ve even started borderline nesting in his home. You bought two new fluffy throw blankets for his couch, set up a bowl of fruits at the center of the kitchen island, and stocked up on laundry detergent, even though he already had two backup boxes. It was driving you crazy. This feeling of having too much free time and personal space than what you knew what to do with.

And it had been a while since you went to Costco. The holy land for all adults. 

“Can I get this? Ohhhh what about this? Can we get this too? Wait. Wait. Brown sugar boba mochi?!” You hold the packet up into the air as if it were baby Simba in the Lion King, and then you turn to Gojo, clutching the bag to your chest. “Please?”

He exhales, leaning over the handle of the shopping cart and levels his gaze with you. “...no.”

You sulk your shoulders and sigh as you put it back.

He begins to push the cart down the aisle again. “You do realize that you have disposable income too, right?”

You trail after him. “No. I don’t. I’m in six figures of debt.”

He nods. “Fair.” And then he grabs a stray bag of brown sugar boba abandoned on top of the instant rice boxes then places it into the cart. 

You watch as Gojo makes his rounds around Costco, very diligently aligning all the items in his shopping cart and assessing the quality of each thing he crosses off his list before deeming it worthy of purchase. Much different than your usual Costco run, which involves a lot of chaos and sweat. And he feels very husband material like this. Breaking no sweat to put the garden fertilizer in the cart shelf meanwhile you would’ve pulled your back out trying to do the same if you were on your own.

As you two make your way through the store, you get stopped by the post-office man, and then the local judge, and then the elderly couple that runs the church's weekly Bingo nights. All greeting you politely with a quick exchange of words and usually a sweet regard for your mother’s health before passing on by. You keep having to introduce Gojo as your husband, and many of them already know who he is, despite the fact that he’s only lived here for a year, which royally pisses you off to great extents, but he’s a social whore so it makes sense. And then all of them coo sweet things like wow, what a beautiful couple and you’re so lucky to have each other and my oh my he’s very handsome and at this point you would pay someone twenty bucks to say something like well she’s a looker! good for you! to Gojo because you’re sick of him always getting the ego boosts. When asked where you guys went for your honeymoon, you both say “Greece–” “Maldives–” at the same time in typical unrehearsed fashion. One of the town locals even asks when the two of you are going to have a baby, and you almost snort your free sample of San Pellegrino out your nose.

Perhaps the only thing that keeps a little pep in your step is the fact that everyone greets you first before they catch the familiar sight of Gojo too. It’s a small thing to celebrate, but when you’ve lived in the same town your whole life, it becomes somewhat of a prideful and wholesome thing when the town librarian, local mechanic, and farmer’s market lady all stop you in your lovely little Costco stroll. It was all in a day’s work.

“Jeez, you’re hella famous, y/n,” Gojo says as he continues to push the cart down the aisle after you just got done catching up with the volunteer Fire Chief.

You toss your hair over your shoulder at him. “Yes. I am somewhat of a princess in this town.”

“Does that make me your prince?”

“No. You’re my filthy peasant.”

“Alright…I like where this is going…”

“Get your nasty degradation kink away from me, you perv. This is Costco. It’s the holy house of God.”

Once you two make it to the wine section, you stare at bottles of dessert wines and hear Gojo talking on the phone off to the side.

“Hey, Sana. I’m at Costco right now. Do you guys need anything? I already got Juno’s muffins,” he says into his phone as he places two containers of blueberry muffins into the cart. You eye the raspberry cream cheese strudels. “Huh? Cornstarch?....If I tried to look for cornstarch at Costco, I’d be here for three hours.”

“Satoru,” you say to him once he gets off the call, tugging at his sleeve, “could we get those Haagen Daz ice cream bars? They’re so good.”

“No,” he says, pushing the cart down the chip aisle before he grabs a bag of tortilla chips. “We can’t get anything that needs to be frozen or refrigerated. I’ve gotta go prep a house that’s in the area since we’re out this far. I’ve got an evening showing.”

“What?!” you exasperate, “I thought we were just going home after this!”

“I never said that.”

“I can’t believe this. I had been dreaming of grabbing those ice cream bars since you mentioned the word Costco back at home. You could’ve brought your little cooler thing that you keep in the garage.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you wanted to come with me,” he says. “My original grocery list had seven non-perishable items on it.” You both glance at the cart, which was almost entirely full of things that you put in there. Things that nobody ever needs. Like a bladeless desk fan and an electric wine opener.

“Ah,” you say.

He smiles, leaning over the cart handle again and pushing it forward again away from the chilly air of the cooler section. “Retail therapy?”

You pout a little. “I haven’t had the chance in years.” You glance at the cart as he pushes it. “I should probably take it all out now.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll get you your bladeless fan. And whatever the fuck those other things are.”

You stop walking, blinking blankly at his back as he continues to wordlessly push the cart forward. There’s about a five second delay before you finally start trailing after him.

By the time Gojo finishes loading everything into the trunk of his car as you merely stand by for emotional support, and then he comes back from the long trek of returning the cart, you’re absolutely winded. You’re not sure why, because again, you haven’t really done much all day. But God damn, you forgot how exhausting it is to be a regular functioning member of society that contributes to the economy on the weekends (you didn’t pay for anything).

Gojo wordlessly takes off from the Costco parking lot and just when you think he’s going to get back onto the freeway to get to this house of his that he needs to prep, he jumps into the parking lot of a small shopping area before he parks his car in front of a smaller grocery store. 

You give him a puzzled look.

“Hold on,” he says before clicking his seatbelt off, “gotta go get that cornstarch.”

“Wait—” you say, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve of his suit jacket as the most intense sensation of FOMO you’ve ever felt in your life overtakes all of your senses. “I’ll come with.”

He quirks a brow at you. You’re not surprised at his confusion. After all, you’ve been acting like some drug addict in withdrawal of social proximity to him all day long. But you’re at least glad he doesn’t express any further bewilderment and allows you to follow him inside the store like a duckling.

As Gojo veers off in the direction of likely corn starchiness, in a confident manner that would suggest he’s been to this store many times before, you meander about the aisles at your leisure. You get lost in the bustling colors of produce stacked neatly on top of one another, such that they could rival the great pyramids of Egypt. Not to mention, processed foods lining the wall right next to it. This was what suburban life is all about. Matter of fact, this is what dreams are made of. 

“y/n?”

Oh, fuck. That voice is definitely not what dreams are made of.

The opposite, actually.

Nightmares.

You hear that voice in your nightmares.

You turn on your heel to find none other than your ex boyfriend, he who shall not be named (Choso Kamo), standing right behind you as he holds a grapefruit in his hand, blinking at you dumbly with surprise apparent on his face. 

“Wh—” you briefly stutter before the automatic scowl settles onto your face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m buying fruit.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean, for what? To eat, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I’m not convinced you wouldn’t try to fuck that grapefruit. Given you have low standards for what you stick your dick inside of.”

“Uh?…I’ve stuck my dick inside of you plenty of t—”

“Shut it!!!” you yell at him, then turn away with a wince on your face. “I didn’t think it through before I said it.”

“As usual?”

“You’re being a jerk. You know who I meant when I said that.”

“Okay. So, you don’t think things through before you say them. And I continue to deflect said things. Let me know when anything’s changed between us, y/n.”

You cross your arms at him menacingly and unwaveringly glare at him as a meek mother pushes her young son by the shoulders away from the two simmering adults having their savory conversation within the produce aisle. You’re about the snark out another comment but then the automatic water sprayers interrupt your flow. And also a scrawny employee drops a giant box of eggplant onto the ground before placing them onto the produce shelf.

“What are you doing on this side of town? You’re never out here,” Choso says as he sets the grapefruit back onto the stack.

“I don’t know. What are you doing here?”

“This is my new go-to grocery store.”

“Why not go to the Trader Joe’s that we always used to go to? It’s way closer to you.”

His shoulders sulk slightly at that.

Oh.

Oh.

So, he’s been driving an extra thirty minutes each weekend to go grocery shopping on the other end of town,

Just so he doesn’t have to run into you anymore.

“Look…y/n,” he starts, “it’s not that I don’t want to see you—”

“Choso—”

“It’s just that you accuse me of fucking inanimate objects everytime I do see you.”

“I literally do not care if you do or don’t want to see me.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his gaze flitting downwards to your crossed arms, something catching his eye.

You glance down at yourself, and you catch the glimmer of diamond underneath bright fluorescent light.

“Oh come on,” Choso grumbles, “don’t tell me you actually wear that thing twenty-four-seven.”

“I’m a married woman, Choso. It’s what married women do.”

He clenches his jaw at that, tense enough to cause a vein strain in his neck, his brows narrowing into contempt, but just before he can say anything else, an arm wraps around your waist and you’re being pulled back into a broad chest.

“She’s pretty, huh?” you hear Gojo say and you blink up at him with your chin tilted towards the ceiling, and you yelp as he possessively pulls you in closer to him as he establishes jarring eye contact with Choso with that same old easy grin on his face. “Thank god I’m the one married to her.”

Choso almost blows a fuse at that. “I know she’s pretty,” he says through gritted teeth, “for six years, I was the one that got to f—”

“Ahh!!! Sale on tomatoes!!!” you interrupt the crass and ridiculously toxic masculine energy in the air as you wiggle out of Gojo’s grip then run over to the pristinely stacked romano tomatoes, picking some of them up and holding them like precious commodities. “Maybe we can make some tomato soup with grilled cheese tonight, honey???” you say with a forced smile towards Gojo as you now hold fifteen tomatoes in your arms, a couple of them falling to the floor with a bounce as they roll away.

“HEY!! LADY!!” the scrawny eggplant stacking employee from earlier yells out at you. Some late teens kid with acne speckled across his face and shaggy brown hair scattered over his forehead, somewhat slick with either gel or grease. “I just set those up!!! YOU SQUASH ‘EM, YOU BUY ‘EM.”

“Sorry,” you squeak out, putting the tomatoes back onto the display somewhat haphazardly before grabbing Gojo’s arm and tugging him towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here, please.”

“Huh? I’ve still gotta pay for the cornstarch though,” Gojo says, hardly budging despite your best efforts to womanhandle him.

“No time for that, we leave now. They don’t have cameras here, anyway. I already checked.” You continue to tug on his arm, your body leaning at an almost forty-five degree angle towards the exit as you struggle to get some drag to his feet, but again, he doesn’t budge.

You don’t know exactly why you so adamantly want to restrict Gojo from interacting with Choso, but maybe a part of it was embarrassment. You didn’t want Gojo to find out what Choso did to you and what an absolute fool he had made out of you. It would hurt your pride.

“Isn’t this guy a cop?” Gojo asks as he points his thumb towards Choso. “And you’re telling me to shoplift in front of him?”

“Can you just be on my fucking side for one second?” you grit at him, yanking on his sleeve so hard you almost tear the cuffs out of the holes, and he finally sighs before relenting into a gait towards your general direction.

As you hug Gojo’s arm tightly to keep his momentum towards you, you walk backwards and send Choso a nasty glare. His eyes are wide, studying you and Gojo together as you get further and further away from him. And for a brief, brief, brief, ever-so-slight fleeting moment of love and familiarity and the sight of his dark hair curling at the nape of his neck and the memory of warmth when he used to hold you in his arms in bed on cold winter mornings, you find that you miss him a little. But only a little. You swear that it’s only a little.

Gojo still makes a pit stop at the register much to your pleading dismay, but as always he has zero regard or interest for your melodramatic outbursts, but at least he shoves the extra change from the purchase into his pocket in a somewhat timely fashion so that you two can head out the door in your artificial haste.

In the car, you quickly click your seatbelt on and then have to watch Gojo as he takes his time clicking his back into place and enter some address into his car. You see the ETA on the GPS, and how it shows that this address is roughly thirty-four minutes away.

Once he gets onto the freeway, your mind begins to wander back to seeing Choso at the grocery store and how the sight of him rattled you. You twiddle with your thumbs in your lap nervously, shift around in your seat, chew at the edge of your nail, and Gojo seems to notice this.

“You know, having lived in this town your whole life, I would think you’d be used to the discomfort of running into people you don’t want to see,” he says.

You sigh. “Yes. In theory. But with Choso, it’s–…it’s different.” You hesitate.  “It’s just that—” you try again before worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, “it’s just that, sometimes I don’t get him.”

Gojo is silent for a few seconds as he stares straight towards the road before he responds with, “What do you mean?”

“Like, he avoids me like the plague, and then begs me to go back to him, and then he pretends like I’m just a nuisance to him, and then when he sees me with you, he acts all—…I don’t know…all—”

“Jealous?”

You sink into your seat. “Something like that.”

“Hm. Yeah, to be honest, I don’t know. But you’re not wrong to find it strange.”

Feeling strangely validated in your feelings, you sit there twiddling with your thumbs and then glance out the window. There’s a silence that lasts maybe ten seconds before you say,

“Thanks for interrupting back there. Although, you don’t have to try to deliberately make him jealous anymore. Even though I know I literally asked you to do that. Which makes me a woman of severe psychiatric ailment. Of which I am slightly embarrassed about at the moment.”

“Nah,” he says as he turns the right onto the freeway entrance. When you look over at him, he has a smile on his face. “I like it. It’s never boring with you.”

Unsure if that’s a compliment or some shade of insult, you say, “and that’s a good thing?”

He shrugs, releasing one hand from the wheel and curling the other in a tight knuckled grip at the top of it as the car drives steady down the freeway. He rests his right elbow on the storage console. “Well, it’s different from what I’m used to.”

What are you used to? You so badly want to ask him.

But a flashback to his childhood bedroom at his parent’s house comes back to you.

Yearbook signatures, trophies, and photos abandoned underneath a bed.

You almost don’t even want to acknowledge that he has lived a life before you.

Was that self centered? Or perhaps childish? Or perhaps all in human nature?

You decide not to respond, instead directing your attention to the world outside the car window. The blades of grass dance across the shoulder of the road, all greenery following suit in the same swift motion. You watch as the land slowly turns from developed to more and more remote, yet still cozy and charming. Fields of green, vineyard arrangements, a wooden sign for a winery, a picturesque red barn house, a small cattle farm, an old town church with a bronze bell, hills of empty acres that are just begging to be touched by some great idea or civilization.

You’re privy to change in texture underneath the wheels as Gojo makes a turn onto gravel road about two miles after getting off the freeway. He drives up a hill, maybe a forty-five degree angle, with the crunch of rocks rubbing against the tread of the tires and you see a more distinct, purposeful arrangement of short decorative trees that line the properties of this narrow gravel road. They were large houses, sitting on slightly slanted hills that were all a part of a bumpy landscape that extends for miles. Some had formal fences, some had chain links, but all had expansive yards with no clear distinction of boundary, where the backyard could be the front yard too if only you had the imagination for it.

One house in particular catches your eye. It’s a pretty two story house with a detached garage or perhaps shed, painted in a dusky auburn with dark wooden paneling and structure. It sat near the top of this hill, the front yard being a steep upwards slope of grassy terrain that stretched for the full length of the property, about a hundred yards. The backyard dips behind the back of the hill, downwards into some territory you cannot set eyes on. But it’s stunning. It was gorgeous. Serene. With views of lush green surrounding its every corner. Intimately located, yet open enough to fresh air in which you almost feel one with the world. And in the early evening light, it looked like heaven.

You let out a slow exhale as you take in the sight that looks like a painting to you. There was something so romantic about a home. For as long as time, humans have enjoyed personifying objects, such as boats or planes or cars or  trains. But what could feel more of a living thing than a home?

You hear Gojo click his seatbelt off beside you and you glance over at him. You click off your own seat belt and open your door, stepping out onto the gravel road.

Gojo comes around the car and approaches you, holding a folder in his hand with papers you can only assume have information on the property listing. You also hear the jingle of keys in his pocket as he pushes his hand into it. 

“Got about,” he glances at his watch, “twenty minutes to prep. Oh, and if my clients ask, I’ll just introduce you as my assistant. And we’ll pretend that we have some sort of inappropriate workplace relationship. Just to intrigue them. It’ll make the house more memorable. Sound like a plan?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever gets food on your table.”

You watch as he pushes a copper key into the rusted lock that was clipped onto the chains holding the fence together, guarding the property. He yanks it down once he’s unlocked it and then pulls the fence apart, opening the way to head up the house. It borders on a feeling of trespassing, but you trail closely behind Gojo as he makes his way up the grassy hill, reminding yourself that he has the clearance as a realtor.

You glance around the property a bit more. There’s a small pond in the dip of one of the smaller hills, fuzzy with moss and some small fish you can see snapping at the surface of the water. Off to the right of it, there are similarly moss covered stone benches, small and antique. Perfect to sit there and watch the sun set behind the house. And towards the left, a small gondola with arranged stained glass stepping stones. 

“Charming, huh?” Gojo says over his shoulder at you, and you realize he’s caught you staring at everything in awe.

Gojo makes it to the veranda after lengthy strides across the broad concrete steps that lead to the most stunning hardwood door you’ve ever seen in your life. He turns around to glance at you when he realizes you’re still stuck at the bottom of the steps, digging your heels into the ground underneath you.

“It’s–” you start, looking across the landscape while melancholy washes over you, “...I just can’t believe that someone gets to live here someday.”

He pushes his hands inside of his pant pockets, silent for a few moments. “Is everything alright?”

You look up at him, the question threatening to make the rawness in your throat burn even more. “Yes, I just–” you scoff at yourself a little before turning back to face the little pond, now further in the distance, “I just realized that I’ll probably never be able to afford a house in my life, so I’ll never really know what it’s like to have a realtor show me around a home I could potentially one day call my own. It’s something that sounds so surreal to me.”

There’s a silence that lasts for three seconds, and when you look up at him, his gaze is soft.

“Alright,” he says, jerking his head towards the direction of the door with his hands still lax in his pockets, “let’s take you on a tour of this one, then.”

You blink up at him, heart beating a little faster. “O-...Okay.” And you hop up the stairs to meet him at the top. The fragrance of wild roses and lavender brush past your senses as the leaves sway with the breeze. 

The moment you enter inside, you’re greeted by a faint trace of vanilla lingering in the air. The foyer is warm, inviting, with soft oak floors that creak ever so slightly with each step you two take forward into it, proving the life that it’s lived. To your left, there’s a spacious living room that glows with the golden light of the early evening sun that has started to gently make its descent from high up in the sky. Filtering through sheer curtains, touching your skin from afar, you glance down at your arm and the glow of heaven that’s been imprinted on it. 

Gojo walks further into the living room, pulling the curtains back a bit and then opens one of the windows by pushing up on it. A small draft reaches you as you walk towards him. Off to the right in a corner is a fireplace, the mantle adorned with wilting candles and creased old books.

“Is it wood-burning?” you ask Gojo.

He nods his head. “Can easily convert it to gas if that’s something you’d like better.”

There’s a sense of joy in your chest at the way he continues to play along, pretending as if your opinion truly matters–as if, just for now, you were a serious contender to make this place your home. 

“No,” you say, tracing a finger over the dark wood of the mantle, collecting withered dust. “I like it better like this.”

As he leads you into the kitchen, set your eyes on the marble countertops that meet soft sage cabinetry, the window behind the sink overlooking the rolling landscape of the backyard. You stand on your tiptoes to get a better view of what’s down the hill, and you see a small trickling creek that flows down the valley. Your gaze diverts towards the countertops and you see an elegant collection of mismatched china.

Spinning on your heel, you find Gojo leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you inspect every inch. “When were these appliances last updated?” you ask, running your hand across the oven handle.

“About fourteen years ago.”

“Ah, they’re a little old.”

He smiles at you. “So the tolerance for vintage charm ends with kitchen appliances?”

“Charm is cute,” you say, a little cheekily as you move on without him towards the staircase, “but not when the house burns down because of an oven gas leak.”

He hums from behind you as he follows you, and you can hear the smile on his face through the sound alone. “You’re looking out for the right things.”

The staircase, with its dark wood railing and white balusters, curves gently upwards into the second floor. Just like your own home, the third and first steps creak beneath your feet. You always loved the sound, although you know most people attempt to fix such things in a house. For you, it felt like each step had a story, and some were very vocal about never being forgotten. 

The upstairs hallway is lined with more windows, filling the space with the same golden glow that now dances across the soft, tapering wallpaper that has begun to peel around the edges slightly. Your feet wander on their own with a sense of grace that seems to have taken hold of you. 

The first bedroom you stumble across is small, but still enchanting. The bay window has a small reading nook with cushions piled up on the surface, inviting the image of lazy afternoons spent lost in books as the world beyond the glass panes flutters in the wind. The queen-sized bed in the center of the room is minimally dressed and faces an oak dresser that was leaning slightly away from the wall in a crooked fashion. 

The room across from the first bedroom appears to be a study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are bolted to the walls and a vintage writing desk sits by another window where the changing light of day turns the room into a living painting. Your mother crosses your mind. And how much she would’ve loved this window. You could picture her setting up her easel and canvas here, painting away with strokes that could threaten even the beauty of the view outside the window. You think about how much joy that would’ve brought to her. 

In that same trance, you walk down the hall to the end with Gojo following behind you. You push through the set of double doors that lead into the master bedroom. It was spacious, yet intimate, with vaulted ceilings and a four-poster bed draped in airy linen curtains. Sitting across from it is another fireplace surrounded by two picturesque little chairs. One with a square backrest colored a dark burgundy, and the other with an oval backrest colored a pinkish opal. Between the two was a small table that had a stack of a few books. 

The attached en-suite bathroom appears timeless, with a clawfoot tub resting beneath a wide, arched window that offers the view of the rolling hills in their entire glory. The marble vanity has vintage brass fixtures that reflect the soft glow of the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, one that takes the shape of the roof of the house. 

You hear tapping on the window to your right, and when you glance over there, you see a tree branch bothering the surface due to the wind. 

Your eyes also catch the faint bordering corner of wood beyond the frame of the window.

With wide eyes, you turn to Gojo and point in that general direction. “Is that…?”

“The balcony,” he says, then nods, “it’s connected to this room.”

He leads you out onto the wooden platform, the floorboards warm under your feet from the early evening sun. It stretches out about ten feet and wraps around the entire back end of the house, with easily the most breathtaking vantage point you’ve seen thus far. An entire view of the creek that disappears into the valley, the image of dancing wildflowers on distant rolling hills, the sun that continues to glow in the distance, and a gentle breeze with the faintest hint of salt, as though from a distant ocean. It felt like its own quiet little world. A place where time slows, and you can just be as you are. It was difficult to put into words, but you had never felt more at peace in your entire life.

Gojo leans over the sturdy yet worn railing as he glances down at the grass near the foundation of the house. You come up beside him, loosely curling your hands into a grip around the rusted metal.

You see him turn his face to you in your periphery, but you continue to stay staring ahead.

“So…what do you think? Can you picture yourself living here?” he asks you as a soft brush of breeze passes by. 

“Well–” you start, but then a sobering thought flashes through you, “wait, Satoru, what happened to your clients?”

“Oh, yeah,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket to glance at it, “they texted me about ten minutes ago that they weren’t going to make it.”

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve left.”

“Well, you seemed like you were in some sort of trance while you were looking around. I was scared to interrupt it.”

You breathe in deep and then let out a slow sigh, your shoulders dropping slightly. “Mhm. The house is beautiful. And, yes, I could picture myself living here.” 

More than just that. It was like a dream house. The one that a person would see in fleeting memories right before they pass, as it holds all of their most beloved ones. That ethereal, it was. 

He hums softly. You look over at him and find him blinking slowly. The wind brushes through his hair, ruffling it up gently, to where you could see the blueness in his eyes a little more clearly. That, too, was ethereal. 

“Satoru,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He continues to stare at the horizon. “Sure.”

“Where did you live before you moved here?”

“New york city,” he easily tells you.

But the answer surprises you. “R-Really?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Really long.”

“Mm. You don’t seem like it.”

“Like what? An asshole from the city?”

“Mhm. Just a regular asshole.”

He laughs. You feel the rumble of it from the way your shoulder was pressed up against his arm. 

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask him. But the question was not one that you had thought to say. Rather, it felt as though it was placed on your tongue by someone else.

You feel his shoulders rise slightly with the deep breath he draws in as he leans over the railing a bit more. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I still own a place there in downtown Manhattan,” he says, “but I don’t really plan on moving back there ever. So I was thinking of selling it and getting something out here instead.”

“Oh?” you say, “like what? Where?”

“This,” he says, pointing to the wooden panels you two were standing on, “this house.”

You blink, caught between surprise and something deeper. “This house?” you echo, your voice quiet. 

He nods, his fingers tapping lightly against the railing. “Yeah. Although, I still show it to people if they’re interested. It’s been on the market for over three years though.”

You let your gaze drift over the balcony, the way the light softens against the weathered wood, and suddenly, the house doesn’t feel the same. Like it carries more weight somehow. Like it feels more real, more alive. And maybe that’s what makes a house a home–the intent to belong in it. 

"You see that greenery over there?" he asks, his arm stretching out as he highlights an area in the distance with his hand, "aaaaall the way down there?" Now pointing at the creak.

"Mm," you squint, "uh-huh!"

"Believe it or not, those are all avocado trees."

Your eyes widen and then you look at him. "No way."

He smiles. "Yeahhh. Three-point-four acres of 'em. And they're all a part of this lot."

Your smile matches his equally as nerdy one. "Wow I bet you loooove that.”

"I do," he grins, and then gratuitously sighs, "all I can eat guacamole 'til the day I die."

You snort.

"Yeah, anyways, that's why no one wants to buy this house," he says, "guess how much it costs to water them per month.”

"Mm, per month?" you look up to the golden sky, "a few thousand?"

"Try a hundred-and-fifty thousand."

"What–...I beg your finest fucking PARDON?!?!"

He laughs. "Yeah that's usually the reaction I get when I end a tour of this house on that note."

“That’s so insane…what’s the point of buying the house, then?”

"Avocados are hard to grow, they can be finicky, but all the land on this lot is extremely fertile," he says, "and if you can import the produce, it actually ends up being pretty lucrative." He points across to the dip in the hill behind the creak. "You could turn that place over there into some kind of ranch, too. Or a wedding venue, and rent it out. I don't know. The property has a lot of investment value. But the house itself is a bit dated. Would need some work."

"Like a fixer-upper on HGTV,” you offer for the conversation.

"Yeahhh. Something like that."

"Mm," you hum.

"Y’know, I was on HGTV once."

"What?! There's no way."

"Yup. House hunters."

"Bullshit. I would've known. I have seen every single episode since I graduated college."

"Oh, well, this was back when they still had Design Star on. I was like twenty-four or something. Fresh new realtor."

"Oh right. I was still in college then. I forgot that you're ancient."

He gives you an irritated side eye.

"So...will you be fixing up this house?" you ask him. His hobby of woodworking starts to make a little bit more sense.

"Maybe. I don't know if I'm too young to be thinking about retirement yet...but that's kind of what I was thinking of turning it into. A dream retirement home."

"You're definitely not young. Don't worry about that."

He gives you another irritated side eye.

"What happens to your other house, then?" you say. "The one next door."

“Hmm," he muses, "I'll probably stay there another year or so and then rent it out eventually."

"You don't want to settle down there? Raise your kids there?" you blurt out. You immediately wince a little at the forward question, but wasn't that something people thought about when thinking of a house? Do they not imagine filling it with their own hopes and dreams? Do they not picture their spouse sitting on the porch outside, swinging with the wind? Do they not picture their children's laughter down the hallway? 

A shiver runs down your spine. You glance over at Gojo, who continues to stare forward towards the horizon, His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he's deep in thought staring out into the landscape as the golden sun begins to turn purple in the sky, casting a dimming glow on his face.

And you wonder. You briefly wonder what a home must mean to him, after having to witness his parents perish in the flames of the one that housed his childhood. 

"It's a nice house," he finally responds to you, "but a part of me wants to live faaaaar away from everyone and everything someday." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, like he can already tell how contradictory you find that sentiment to be. Mr Grew Up In New York City wants to live in a quaint little cape-cod-esque agriculture farmland property miles away from major civilization? what was it about the city that changed him so much? “Just be at peace, you know. Plant a million more avocado trees out here in the middle of nowhere, and not have to worry about their devilish spawns dropping all over my cute neighbor's herb garden.”

You flutter your eyelids, the comment catching you off guard, before your entire posture softens. "Satoru...it's ok. I'll move my herb garden."

"Oh, you thought I meant you? I was talking about seventy-four year old Barbara to my right."

You sulk your shoulders and roll your eyes, turning away from him to face forward towards the landscape again.

He laughs. "I'm just teasing."

You glance over at him again, and there's that same distant stare he casts over the greenery in the distance. 

"I can't believe your dream in life is to become a farmer," you say.

"Ehhh. It's honest work." he exhales slowly. The sun is now sitting on the hilltop. "It's just a dream, anyways. Just a dream. I'm still allowed to have those, right?" It was asked with genuine curiosity. 

"Why are you asking me for permission?"

His eyes hood ever so slightly, a dip in his expression you can't quite discern. but it's evident in the way his gaze off across the horizon dampens. "Hm. I don't know."

You shiver a little as the evening wind brushes past, and Gojo catches sight of the movement. you mentally curse yourself, because you know that you've just cut this moment short.

"It's cold," he says, "let's get inside."

You try to think of ways to stay here. Ways to lengthen this moment. Ask him for his jacket and make some teasing comment about how he's not a gentleman. Or lie and say that you're not cold at all, that you run warm when you know all your life you've always had cold hands and feet. Or just tell him that you don't want this moment to end. Tell him you want to see the sun through its sunset. Tell him how you never want to step foot off of this house ever again.

"Okay," you whisper. 

And he leads you back inside, down the stairs, and as you stand out on the veranda, at the grassy hills towards his car, you implant this memory in your head, this feeling of standing on this home and dreaming as if it were yours. Before all it becomes is exactly that, 

Only a dream. 

.

.

.

.

.

[end of ch.7, ‘if u wanna get groceries’]

songs of the chapter:  groceries by mallrat  margaret by lana del rey

a/n. thanks so much for reading! this was a fun chapter to write, especially the house sequence. i think it’s mentioned in the chapter somewhere, but yeah…i just think there’s something so romantic and melancholic about a home :’’) i guess that’s a recurring theme in ihm, with reader’s childhood home holding the memories that her mother has lost of her, and then ihm gojo losing his parents to a destructive house fire, and also him being a realtor, and also reader planning to sell her house, and then the dream house in this chapter. it’s been fun breathing a bit of life into these different settings themselves. ah i also decided i want to include little “song(s) of the chapter” to the end of these! just as something kinda fun to do. i’d say these are songs that inspired me to write certain scenes within the chapter, or songs that i listened to a lot while writing the chapter, or songs i could picture playing during the ending credits if this were a tv show xd. but yeahhh!! also just a way to share music bc i love music lol. 

i was asked by an anon to provide some reference photos for the dream house at the end and i shared some here big thank you to my beta readers mirl, leni, and ayelin for helping me out w parts of this chapter n giving me motivation to write it <33 i appreciate you guys sososo much!! i really attribute a lot of my writing motivation towards them, as i’ve been really busy but been able to write these lengthy chapters bc of their support.  i did kinda rush parts of this chapter just because i wanted to get it out on the weekend, so i apologize if there are errors or mistakes of if anything’s a little confusing or sudden. tbh i did want to spend a tiny bit more time on it but, that’s ok. fuck it we ball also! i just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of my readers and those that have stuck around for so long with me or maybe newer readers who have interacted or become invested w my works recently… i know that i am so slow w updates and sometimes inconsistent w it as well, life just gets so crazy for me and it’s a struggle to find proper time to sit down and write, and i wish soooo badly to put out chapters faster, but yea easier said than done haha. but all of my readers who continue to engage with lil ol’ me even despite all of that really means a lot to me, more than i can say :”) i still face self doubts so often w my writing, i’m halfway convinced i’ll never be satisfied w my craft, but the little interactions i have w everyone really make my day and push me forward to write even when it’s hard and i realized i haven’t really said a proper thank u to u guys for that as of late. plus i know jjk manga has ended and also i took a hiatus n also tumblr has lowkey been fuckin me over on the algorithm too lol etc etc i definitely have noticed i’ve lost some readers n engagement along the way, which i understand is natural n just a part of being a long fic author however daunting that may be, but i just really wanted to say a thank you to those who continue to be here irrespective of all of that. i appreciate everyone who sees value in my works enough to read them, follow up w them, interact w them, share them, like them etc. especially w ihm bc sometimes i feel so bad for the slow burn and the yap haha i’m sure some of you may be privy to the fact by now that this story will be very long and also so much more than just the romance. but…i find confidence from you all to follow my vision and i’m really grateful for that.  very likely that the next chapter is in ihm gojo’s pov :0 very exciting and makes me a lil nervous. for some reason i find his pov somewhat intimidating to write for loool. but hopefully i’ll pull it off.

much love!! there will be a delay in getting this chapter up on ao3 and also adding it to the masterlist etc bc i'll be away from keyboard when this posts from my queue, but everything should be updated by the time i'm back home tonight :) see you all in the next one <3 -ellie

➸ take me to chapter eight!

🏷️: @samistars @pickuptruck01 @mtsyik @imasexy-buffalo @sashisuslover

@thegreatandlvable @tw0fvced @um-no-ok @fiftyfeetstrawberryparfait @gojodickbig

@tofumiao @coolwitchtree @joemama-2 @anonymity-222 @sxnkuna

@xd3pr3ss3dx @readerg77 @tvdumarvelhpsimp @thotwiththoughts @4y3sh4

@bloopsstuff @jaegersity @toffeebrat @cactisjuice @mya1112

@shasaaa15 @astrokenny @tenjikusstuff4 @anujah9 @ariasnoodles

@heiejdhdh @lvrellie @satorugirlie @ducky1232 @suguruslovedoll

@electrckchild @lavender-hvze @crematedstar @sxnkuna @celestialforce

@mrswanggae @readerg77 @sexys-archives @zelzablues @kristinering-actress

@erencvlt @blueberry19000 @angelicscribe @nappingmoon @starmapz

note. i'd recommend subscribing to the fic on my ao3 so you can get email notifs :) tumblr taglist is based on interacts; please do not ask me for updates or ask me when i am going to next update (read rules)

taglist is closed