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bluelockmaniac · 3 months ago

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"𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞... 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭?!"

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, michael kaiser, mikage reo, seishiro nagi, isagi yoichi, barou shoei x fem!reader

⭑.ᐟ synopsis. surprising your bllk husbands with creative pregnancy reveals!

content warning. fem, wife!reader. suggestive (pull-out game, baby fever, etc). pet names. teeny tiny bit of angst in kaiser's part. twins. nagi feigning ignorance. lots of kisses because yeah. 4.5k wc!

notes. heavily inspired by peachy pregnancy reveal videos on yt!

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

you had never fought so hard to contain laughter in your life.

it was a quiet afternoon, and you were resting on your bed when sae suddenly barged into your shared bedroom, looking slightly confused.

his brows were furrowed, and his lips were slightly parted. he had just finished taking a shower, water droplets dripping down his skin, and a towel hung loosely around his waist.

but what really caught your attention was the pile of clothes draped over the bend of his elbow. clothes that you had instantly recognized.

“tsk,” he clicked his tongue in irritation, tossing the garments onto the mattress one by one. “the dumbass dryer shrunk my clothes.”

now laying on the bed were three tiny white shirts, a pair of tiny running shorts, and most importantly an identical replica of his football uniform, complete with sae’s name printed on the back. each piece looked unmistakably his, just tiny.

but little did he know that you had swapped his freshly dried clothes with their baby-sized counterparts while he was in the shower.

the uniform had taken the most effort as you had to customize and order it online rather than simply purchasing it in store, but the results were definitely worth it.

you pressed a hand to your mouth, a soft laugh escaping despite your best efforts to appear innocent. though it was a completely natural reaction for this situation, you doubt he’d find it suspicious.

“that’s the first time that’s ever happened, right?” you crawled closer to inspect the small jersey. you held it up for sae to see, beaming at him. “but it’s so cute! don’t you think so too?”

sae glanced at your sparkling eyes, and rolled his eyes. he turned toward his dresser, shaking his head slightly. “it’s cute. give it to some fan at my next game.”

like hell you would. you hugged your knees as you eagerly watched him reach for his calvin klein boxers. he could feel your stare burning a hole through his head and turned to you with a raised brow.

“what? you that excited to watch me strip, mi cariño?”

you grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “yeah, i am. keep going, you’re doing great so far.”

sae sighed but you could see the tiny smile that was ghosting his lips. he pulled on his boxers, until he suddenly froze, his fingers stilling on the waistband of the undergarment. your smile widened.

his gaze darted between the tiny clothes on the bed and the neatly folded ones– his clothes– you had placed on his dresser.

“love.” he said quietly. he walked over to the bed, eyes locked onto yours as he climbed over you. he gently pushed you until your back met the mattress, his frame hovering over you.

“are you pregnant?”

you giggled. “maybe.”

his teal eyes narrowed slightly. he reached up and pinched your cheek. “answer properly. i asked, are you pregnant?”

a breathy laugh slipped past your lips as you nodded. “i am.”

for a split second, he just stared at you, dead silent. then, he let out a soft grunt, muttering under his breath.

“knew something was off. you’ve been acting weird.”

you snorted, “excuse me?”

he tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking at the corners. “didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

he leaned down. he kissed your forehead first, then the tip of your nose, and finally, your lips. when he pulled away, there was a subtle smirk on his lips.

“my pull-out game was shit.”

you laughed softly as you ran your fingers through his damp, reddish hair, your voice smug. “i don’t blame you. i just feel way too good.”

his smirk twitched as he flicked your forehead lightly. “don’t get too cocky or i might just have to plant baby number two.”

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

“sir,” the police officer began professionally as he approached rin’s car parked in the public lot, tapping on the driver’s window.

rin paused his conversation with you, casting a side-glance at the cop. he raised a brow before rolling down the window. “what?” he asked bluntly.

the officer leaned a little against the window frame, nodding his head respectfully. “i’m going to have you stop here. you have a child in the vehicle with no child seat.”

rin stared at the man like he was an idiot, then slowly turned to look at you, scoffing in disbelief. “get a load of this guy.” he muttered. you bit your bottom lip hard to suppress your laughter, fingers tightening around the purse in your lap.

turning his head back to the officer, rin narrowed his eyes. “are you a dunce? does it look like there’s a child in the backseat?” rin asked him with annoyance. “seems like they purposely hire lukewarm idiots who lack proper qualifications. you’re not fit for this job.”

“sir, i need you to calm down. it’s simply protocol. i’ll have to fine you.”

as your husband continued arguing with the poor officer who was actually only carrying out his part of your arrangement, you quietly retrieved the positive pregnancy test out of your purse. a warm smile graced your lips.

the officer, who was busy distracting rin, caught your movement and tried to mask the smirk that was threatening to appear. he played along, “ma’am, are you positive about this?”

that seemed to set rin completely off. “do you need to enter the car to see for yourself, you dumbass cop? i told you, there is no fucking child in this ca–”

“actually,” you interrupted sweetly, “we do have a child in the car with no child seat.”

as soon as he heard your voice, he stopped mid-sentence. rin turned to face you, only to find a pregnancy test held up in your hand, two pink lines etched clearly. his teal eyes flitted back and forth between your smiling face and the test, blinking slowly in realization.

“... you’re not joking, are you?”

you laughed softly as you shook your head. “no, rinnie. i’m pregnant.”

he stared at the pink lines for a while longer, then muttered something under his breath and reached to roll the windows up, shutting out the content cop with a glare. you shot him a quick nod of thanks through the glass before rin turned fully to face you.

he already knew you’d be a perfect mother with the way you naturally loved and cared for him. as for him? it’ll take him some time to figure out this whole parenting thing.

“didn’t think you could surprise me anymore.” he muttered, threading his hand through his dark green hair as he leaned back against the headrest.

“i think you’ll be just fine,” you murmured softly as you leaned in and gently pried his hands away from his face, your eyes locking onto his teal ones. “but you better be nice to me, baby. i’m going to be extra sensitive from now on, you hear me?”

his brows furrowed slightly before he took your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him. “after you set this whole thing up with a cop– a male, no less? yeah, i don’t think so.”

“oh?” you teased, giving him a lopsided grin as you leaned closer. “is the great itoshi rin actually jealous? hm. it looks good on you.”

rin scoffed, but his grip on your chin loosened. “you’re my wife. mine. not his.”

you laughed gently as you took his hand and slipped it under your shirt, guiding it to your stomach. “you don’t have to remind me. i never forgot.”

his gaze softened as he felt the slight swell of your stomach, where the child he (unintentionally) created with you was beginning to grow. he looked at you calmly before resting his hand on the small of your back, drawing you in. rin’s lips ghosted over yours teasingly, but never actually meeting.

you huffed. “you’re a cruel man.”

a rare smile tugged at his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, then leaned away. silently, he reached across and buckled your seatbelt for you, probably his attempt at being a gentleman. he didn’t meet your eyes, but you could practically hear the smile in his words.

“let’s go home quickly,” rin said as he started the car. “we need to take advantage of the time we have left before you’re too far along.”

𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

it was christmas. coincidentally, kaiser's birthday as well.

the two of you had just finished eating together, and now you were lounging on the couch, sitting comfortably on his thigh with his arm lazily draped around your waist. there were many gift bags of different sizes scattered on the fuzzy carpet– a couple big ones, a few medium-sized, and a particularly small one.

kaiser scanned the pile, his crystal blue eyes glinting as he turned to you with a smirk on his face. “hmm, you like me that much, meine liebe?”

you met his teasing stare with silence, then gently cupped his face and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. you’ve come to learn that this method always catches him off guard, and as you expected, it did just that this time as well. his eyes widened slightly just slightly before his lashes fluttered shut.

“ah.”

“i do,” you murmured against his lips, your voice airy. you pulled away with a content smile. “now hurry up and open them. i'm excited to see your reaction.” you leaned your head against his shoulder, fingers toying with the sleeve of his warm sweater.

kaiser reached for the first bag, tearing through the wrapping carelessly. “a pair of cleats, huh?” he raised a brow, looking at you with an unimpressed, mocking expression. “didn't need them. my cleats are brand new.”

your brows knitted together. “i didn’t get them because you needed them. got them because you suck at choosing anything that isn’t boring.”

“oh, you wound me,” he pinched your waist playfully before rubbing the spot soothingly. “i was just joking, liebe. promise.”

for the next half-hour, he continued opening the gift bags. brand new sunglasses, a watch, new cologne, a mirror since he loves admiring himself, and things of the sort. each gift was met with some sarcastic remark, but there was always a gentle touch here and an appreciative touch there.

then–

“micha.” you tapped his shoulder, pointing at the relatively tiny bag sitting on the carpet near his feet. “you missed that one.”

his brow arched. he picked it up and placed it on your lap since your legs were swung over his. “didn’t see it. it’s so tiny.” he inspected it for a second before slipping his hand inside. he side-eyed you, chuckling. “why does such a tiny bag have so much wrapping anyway?”

you hummed, pressing a kiss to his neck before nestling your head back against his shoulder. “mm. dunno. maybe this one’s important.”

he pulled something out. and froze.

you could almost hear his heart thumping in his chest as he slowly flipped the pregnancy test over in his hand. and there it was. two vertical pink lines.

positive.

an awkward silence stretched between you two. you let out a soft huff, gazing at him lovingly as you watched his reaction.

he didn’t say a single word for what felt like eternity. then, he turned to look at you. “are you serious?” his voice lacked his usual teasing.

“yes.”

“are you actually serious?” he repeated.

you laughed. “i’m positive. literally.”

“holy fuck.”

kaiser inhaled sharply, exhaling through his nose as he put a hand on his forehead and slumped back against the couch. he tugged you with him until you were sprawled against his chest. still, he didn’t speak.

again, there was silence as you pulled a warm blanket over both of you and snuggled closer. you sighed blissfully against him, until something wet landed on your cheek.

you blinked.

tilting your head, you tried to get a better look at him. but your eyes just widened.

“micha? … baby? … michael?” your voice softened, “my love, are you crying?”

you had never seen him like this before. the usual cocky arrogance completely gone, his jaw clenched as if he was trying to compose himself. then, without a word, he cupped the back of your neck and pulled you back into him to cover his face. his arms wrapped around you tightly, his lips pressed firmly against the top of your head in a long kiss.

“tch, stupid. of course not.” he murmured against your hair, breathing in your familiar scent. “our kid’s gonna have your smile. i already know it. and i’m screwed because that’s going to kill me everytime.”

and as he felt your arms tighten around his waist, he’d already decided he was going to be a better father for his child than his dad ever was for him.

𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈

“sei, come onnn!” you whined, tugging insistently at your husband’s arm in an attempt to pry him away from his gaming chair. it proved to be ineffective as his eyes remained glued to the sniper game on his screen.

but the second you tugged just a tiny bit harsher, you threw off his aim, causing him to get shot by the enemy.

“ah, shit,” he muttered as the ‘game over’ screen flashed before him, his broad shoulders sagging slightly. you felt bad, but only for a split second, so you quickly shook those feelings away— you had something important to reveal after all.

seishiro took off his headset with a dramatic huff, then swiveled his gaming chair to face you. his massive arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close until his face was buried against your stomach. “what is it, pretty?” he sighed into your shirt.

you grinned. “i need to show you something real quick.”

you didn’t give him a chance to protest, practically dragging his lazy frame out of the chair and toward the kitchen, with him following sluggishly behind you.

when you finally stopped, he glanced around, confused. “there’s nothing new…?”

you laughed and pointed at the oven. “open it.”

his brow arched with slight suspicion, but he did as you asked, crouching down and pulling the oven door open. he reached and grabbed the singular item sitting alone on the rack—

“a bun?” he questioned, his white brows knitting together as he stood back up. he seemed almost disappointed and you could only guess he assumed you had prepared him some lavish meal. but hey, you had already figured he’d be a bit slow and would need some extra help.

you bit back a giggle and leaned against the kitchen counter, a smile gracing your lips. “think about it, baby.” you encouraged, “could you tell me what you just found?”

it was almost cute how he was eyeing the bread roll that seemed almost miniscule between his fingers. “i found a bun… in the oven.” he repeated slowly. you watched as his droopy, half-lidded eyes went wide in what you thought was realization, until his lips parted again.

“did we run out of food?”

you smacked your forehead. “are you dense?” you placed your hands on your hips and let out a semi-annoyed sigh. “it’s an expression people say when—”

you were suddenly cut off when he bent down, grabbed the hem of your shirt, and lifted it just enough to place a tender kiss on your bare stomach. “i know,” he murmured against the soft skin, and you could feel his lips curling into a slight smile.

your breath hitched, warmth rushing to your cheeks as he straightened himself up and tangled his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

“sei…” you whispered, raking your fingers through his snowy-white hair, still a bit caught off guard. perhaps he wasn’t as dense as he seemed. then, you shivered when his cold palm slid under your shirt and rested against your stomach. he quietly chuckled at your reaction, leaning down until his lips grazed your ear.

“i was actually suffering terribly from baby fever, so i’m glad i didn’t pull out.”

your mind short-circuited as you gawked up at him with widened eyes, but he only gently patted your head with a lazy smile.

geez. what had gotten into him?!

𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

reo had just pulled into the driveway of his mansion after treating you to an extravagant dinner at a five-star restaurant, your first date with him in quite a while. he patted your thigh affectionately as he turned off his rolls royce, but to his surprise, you simply unbuckled your seatbelt and stayed seated, your hands moving to dig through your purse.

his eyes flicked to you and his lips curved into his signature smile. he figured you were just waiting for him to open the car door for you, the usual princess treatment he was all too familiar with. “right. being away in england for so long made me forget how much my wife loves getting spoiled.”

but before he could make a move to exit the car, your fingers gripped onto his suit, pulling him gently back to his seat. he looked slightly startled, and glanced back at your giddy face with a raised brow. his gaze dropped to the small, silver card in your hand.

“what’s this, baby?” he asked, turning his body towards you.

“a custom-made scratch-off card,” you replied, handing it over to him. “just scratch it.”

your heart was pounding against your ribcage as you watched him flipping the card over, examining it, before fishing out a coin from the cup holder.

“if that’s what you want, princess,” he teased, “though if it’s a lottery ticket, you should know i’m not exactly lacking in that department.”

reo hummed as he started scraping at the surface. you bit your lip excitedly as the first bit of silvery dust flaked off, the image underneath beginning to reveal itself. his movements slowed, and his amethyst eyes widened as the layer was completely removed.

the sonogram appeared.

reo’s fingers tightened around the card, a breathless laugh escaping him as he shook his head in disbelief. a grin stretched across his lips, looking at you in awe.

you were unable to hold in your breath any longer. you let out a laugh, tilting your head to look at him from a better angle. “well, reo?”

“i’m going to be a father?”

“what does the sonogram say?”

he chuckled lightly, running a hand through his purple hair as he let the card fall into his lap. “how long have you known?”

“since you left for england,” you said as you shifted happily in your seat.

he reached over, cupping your nape as he pulled you into a slow kiss. relief washed over you so quickly it made your head spin.

he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as his hand trailed down to your stomach. “i wonder if it’ll be a girl or boy,” he murmured.

“could be both, actually.” you cut in, and he looked at you strangely.

“what do you mean?”

you grinned, gently brushing his jaw as you leaned back against your seat. “check the sonogram again.”

reo raised a brow, his curiosity piqued as he took the card back into his hand to inspect it. before long, his eyes widened comically as he saw a second fetus in the ultrasound.

“are you serious? we’re having twins?”

you laughed softly as you laced your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “that’s riiight. prepare to spoil me tenfold, reo. you’re going to be feeding three people in one body now.”

his arms instinctively wrapped around your waist as he pressed his lips against yours once again in a sweet kiss, still dazed by the realization that he’s going to be a father to not one, but two children. “... there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“good,” you whispered, smiling as you kissed the tip of his nose before leaning back into your seat. “start by opening the car door for your pregnant wife.”

“yeah, yeah. anything for my spoiled princess.” he replied with an excited grin, finally exiting the royce. needless to say, you were not going to lift a single finger during this pregnancy.

𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈

“b-baby, slow down!” isagi gasped as you shoved him towards the bedroom, kicking the door open and dragging him inside.

“on the bed, yoichi!” you ordered him with a grin on your face, watching with satisfaction as he reluctantly sat down on the edge of the mattress. he sighed with fondness, watching as you clumsily rummaged through the closet, before finally pulling out a blue shirt.

you walked over, placing the shirt face down on the bed to keep the words hidden. then, with no warning, you pushed his thighs apart, placing yourself between his legs as you reached for the hem of his shirt.

isagi raised an eyebrow, already amused. there’s nothing that should surprise him anymore with you, but somehow you prove him wrong every single time.

“are you trying to seduce me?” he smiled, lifting his arms with no resistance, allowing you to pull his shirt over his head.

you playfully smacked his chest. “trying? i already did, yo. you made it too easy.”

he rolled his eyes as his cheeks tinted a light pink. “whatever… you’re too cute.”

“close your eyes. no peeking while i’m putting this on you,” you said, grabbing the shirt off the bed. isagi’s eyes closed obediently, and he felt the fabric tighten around his torso as you slipped the shirt over his head.

“woww, you didn’t even get my size right,” he joked, opening his eyes but not looking down.

you whistled softly, letting your hand wander over your husband’s chest. “i know your size, but you just look hotter with a tight shirt.”

your fingers encircled isagi’s wrist as you dragged him across the room, excitedly positioning him in front of the tall mirror in the corner. “okay! read the shirt!”

he blinked, confused at first, then turned his gaze to the mirror, squinting his eyes as if that would help him decipher the reversed letters.

“be… nice to me… I’m going… to be a… fa…ther…?”

he froze, the last word catching in his throat. his blue eyes snapped to you, wide and stunned. “i’m gonna be a father?? you’re pregnant? actually?”

you smiled and buried yourself in his arms, your fingers mindlessly tracing the letters on his shirt. “i’ve taken three tests. all positive.”

before you could say anything else, he hooked his hands under your arms and lifted you into the air, his forearm supporting your ass and his other hand on your waist.

“god, i love you so much,” he laughed breathlessly, “give me a kiss.”

still laughing, you cupped his face and gave him a sweet peck on his lips.

“another one,”

you leaned in, pecking his lips a second time.

“that’s not enough,”

“you lovesick idiot,” you sighed, smiling helplessly. you leaned in again, but this time, he met you halfway. his hand on the back of your head, holding you in place as he kissed you deeply. the gasp you let out was quickly swallowed by his lips.

he set you down as if he had not just stolen your breath away, patting your head affectionately.

“thank you, my love.”

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐈

it should have been a normal day. barou should have followed his usual routine– wake up before sunrise, gel his hair, take a shower, and leave for his daily hardcore strength training.

but today was different. at exactly 5:12 a.m, barou opened his eyes with a low grunt and propped himself up with one elbow. instinctively, he leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead like he always did, only to stop once he was met with your wide eyes staring directly at him.

he scowled. “the hell are you lookin’ at me like that for?”

he tried to blink his morning irritation away, then dragged a hand down his face before reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “why are you awake?” his low voice was even more hoarse from sleep.

you groaned softly before scooting closer and snuggling against his bare, muscular chest. he let out a soft grunt, though his arm automatically wrapped around your waist.

“shoei… i’m hungry,” you mumbled into his skin.

“tch,” he clicked his tongue, pulling back slightly to look at you. “what, you want pudding? eggs? i’ll make something. i was getting up anyway.”

he rolled over and switched on the bedside lamp with a sigh, squinting to see you better.

but you shook your head and leaned forward, resting your chin on his shoulder with that sweet look he hated to admit always worked on him. “no… i really want pickle-flavoured ice cream. or a lotus biscuit with mayo on top…”

barou made a face. blinking at you judgmentally once, twice, and a third time before he placed a big palm on your abdomen and gently pushed you back onto the mattress.

“you’ve lost your mind,” he shrugged, tugging the blanket over you. he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. “go to sleep. you’re talkin’ nonsense.”

but you whined, tugging at his sturdy arm. sparkly eyes looking up at him. “i’m serious, shoei… i really, really want them…”

barou narrowed his eyes. “why would you want to eat that garbage?”

“please?” you batted your lashes, “for your beautiful wife?”

he sighed, standing up begrudgingly as he scratched the back of his neck. “god, you’re annoying…”

your eyes lit up, and before he could turn away, you got up and wrapped your arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses. “thank you!”

barou rolled his eyes and grabbed your cheeks between his fingers, squeezing them gently. “you’re a weird woman. suddenly craving crap combinations.”

you buried your face in his chest, nodding with a sheepish laugh.

he snorted, “what are you, pregnant or somethin’?”

as soon as he said what was intended to be a joke, you both froze. right… questionable cravings were a symptom of pregnancy.

“aha… y-you think?” you asked, laughing awkwardly. your eyes widen suddenly. “shit, my period is a few days late…”

his large hand silently found yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. “stay here. i’ll deal with the food,” he muttered. “and you’re takin’ a damn test after.”

you blinked. “what about practice?”

he didn’t look at you as he walked to the door.

“skipping. you always come first.”

—

“oi,” you heard barou’s voice from the other side of the bathroom door. followed by a light knock. “you okay? you’ve been in there for thirteen minutes.”

you opened the door slowly. he was standing there with his arms crossed, shirtless, with a towel around his neck. he looked at you with his usual stoic face. “well?”

you held out the positive pregnancy test with a meek smile playing on your lips. barou glanced at the stick, staring at the pink lines.

“...huh. guess this thing’s my fault.”

you let out a soft laugh, sniffling slightly. he pulled you in until your forehead bumped against his bare chest. his grip was gentle despite how rough his hands were. “we’re having a kid,” he muttered into your hair.

you smiled up at him, twinkly eyes, and his hand shot up to wipe away at the tears you didn’t know were falling. “don’t cry. i’ve dealt with two younger sisters.”

“i can take care of you.”

4K notes · View notes

kpopfanfictrash · 2 months ago

Text

Clichés and Canapés (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: best friends to lovers; fake dating; billionaire au

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (f)

Word Count: 40K

Author's Note: Part of the In Bloom collaboration with @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @syllviere, @leahsfavefics, @suga-kookiemonster, and @cybrsan. Unfortunately, this is so long it has to be posted in two parts; please interact with both!

Synopsis: After twenty years of friendship, you’d think you were used to Seokjin’s proposals by now. In the past he’s forced you to participate in skydiving, skinny dipping, and even staging a rescue from the local shelter. Seokjin has always had big ideas but this time, even he may have gone too far. Granted, break-ups are stressful, and Seokjin’s latest one up was bad. Really bad. As in, they-ended-things-in-December-and-now-she’s-dating-his-brother bad.

It almost makes sense then, when Seokjin asks you to come home with him for his parents' party. Almost makes sense when he says his family assumed you were dating, and he didn't correct them. What doesn’t make sense is the longer you fake things, the more you find yourself wondering if this was real all along.

Rating: 18+; explicit sexual content

Warnings (explicit content): oral (f. receiving), nipple play, delayed orgasms, sex w/out a condom, cum play, semi-public sex, light spanking, fingering, dirty talk, mention of voyeurism

Warnings (other): depictions of micro-aggressions, mentions of divorce (past tense), emotionally abusive/manipulative parents (side character)

Time is relative. A year can be both long and short, depending on which side you stand on. December is always a surprise, despite having lived through the months prior. The ‘you’ of today compared to the ‘you’ of last year always makes you feel ancient. The past year in particular packed more punches than most – some of them small, and some monumental enough to stop you in your tracks.

For example, this time last year – how is it already May? – you still worked in consulting, nimbly hanging from the top rung of the corporate later. But by the end of last summer, you had unceremoniously quit in a flurry of anger and paperwork. Last year had many difficulties but honestly, quitting wasn’t one of them.

No – one thing no one tells you in school is that all jobs kind of suck. There’s no one right answer, one right path. There are many careers you can enjoy – some of them taken by choice, others by happenstance and you’ll likely be good at more than one. Each one has a different toll, though. A different cost-benefit analysis, as you would have said last year.

You were good at consulting. There were many reasons you rose through the ranks. You always enjoyed a good challenge; enjoyed the thrill of being good at your job, but slowly realized work didn’t make you happy. Not when the cost was your free time and every ounce of value you saw in yourself.

Ambition is also a funny thing. Chasing a dream, even someone else’s, can be satisfying but eventually, you look down and notice the cracks in your life. Crevices between who you are and who you want to be, widening until the gap is unpardonable. The moment you notice is the moment you’re forced to make a decision.

For you, the decision was to quit.

God, it felt good to drop all the burdens. To leave your equipment with IT and stop caring about which projects were on track, which coworkers were slacking, and what the impact would be if certain laws passed. Petty concerns about petty people, all washed away by the sunlight outside.

The ‘you’ of ten years ago would have been embarrassed to call yourself a barista. The ‘you’ of ten years ago though, still believed in golden lies spun by corporations. The idea that if you worked hard enough, long enough – translation: made enough money – you would be happy. News flash: you weren’t. Or at least, not happy enough.

Working in a coffee shop has been fun. Enjoyable. Of course, there are rushes and harried customers and your feet hurt, but at the end of the day, you still have the energy left to be creative. That’s what matters to you.

Your friends have been saying as much to you for years. One friend in particular was convinced you needed to take a step back, but you rarely listened to Seokjin when it came to matters of work. With his upbringing, his family, it wasn’t like money was ever a concern to him, and –

“Y/N? Hellooo? Y/N!”

Jerking upright, you realize Jimin has been calling your name. Screwing the cap on the syrup, you glance over your shoulder.

Jimin leans against the counter at an angle which, frankly, defies gravity. One impeccable brow lifted, he watches with both arms folded over his apron.

Slowly, you set down the syrup. “How many times did you call my name?”

Jimin shakes his head. “At least three. I understood at first, but then I started worrying you were losing your hearing. You know, because of your age.”

“I’m three years older than you, Jimin. Not decrepit.”

“Right.” A deep sigh. “Thirty. And here I am, young and virile and still in my twenties.”

“Ugh,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Please don’t ever say virile to me again. And you’re in your twenties for now,” you add. “You’ll be thirty someday.”

“Yes. In the far, far, far future.”

Despite his teasing, Jimin joins at the sink with an armful of bottles. He stacks them neatly on the counter, reaching to fill one with syrup.

The café is quiet on a Tuesday afternoon. A few patrons linger, typing on laptops with their over-ears on, but the morning and noon rush have come and gone. Until someone enters, there’s nothing to do but clean and prep for tomorrow. Reaching for the next canister, you realize Jimin is wearing a Look.

It’s a Look you’ve grown familiar with over the past month, since Jimin insists on having the same conversation.

“Oh, no,” you sigh.

“Oh, no – what?”

“Oh, no – why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Jimin widens his eyes, the picture of innocence.

“Like I just kicked a dog,” you grumble.

Someone glances up from their laptop, appalled, and your face heats, realizing they overheard between songs. Busying yourself, you turn around and place your back firmly to them.

Jimin grins. “W-ow, Y/N. Can’t your good friend – and roommate, might I add – look at you without an agenda? It’s like you’re so used to being alone, you push people away at the first hint of discomfort.”

You make a sputtering sound. “Okay, first off – ouch. Too real for a work conversation. And second, that is not what’s happening here.”

Even if Jimin does have a point, says a voice in your head. Although you met Jimin in college, the two of you only recently reconnected. You were in the same theatre group back then, overlapping your senior and his freshman year. When you needed a roommate, you posted on the alumni social media page and Jimin responded. Since then, you’ve become close friends – along with Jimin’s boyfriend, Hoseok, one of your favorite people.

Jimin has been watching you withdraw socially for the past year, although much of that, you’d argue, is for a valid reason.

“So, does that mean you’ve changed your mind about the cabin?” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his fist.

“No,” you say through gritted teeth. “It does not.”

“Come on.” Jimin slumps dramatically. “It’ll be so much fun! And a bunch of my friends are single. And hot.” He wiggles both brows. “Now that I’m dating Hoseok, I need to set you up with someone.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitch. Jimin has been trying to get you to join his college friend cabin trip. Although you like his friends, an entire week with them is out of the question. Every single one of them is Type B – seriously, all of them – and if you went, you know you’d be instantly relegated to the ‘mom’ role. Even with the hottest of people, that’s a hard no for you.

Jimin is right there with them, flying through life by the seat of his pants, whereas you plan for all contingencies. Like the time you went backpacking through Europe and all the trains were cancelled due to something mumbled hastily at you in Spanish. It was up to you to solve – something you did within the hour; a story Seokjin likes to tell people at parties.

Of course, the response at Seokjin’s family parties tends to be shock at having taken public transportation in the first place. Seokjin’s family are rich-rich. Like, funded-the-railroads rich. Have-statues-in-historic-downtowns rich. Wear-clothes-that-look-like-Goodwill-but-actually-cost-five-figures rich.

It’s been a long while since Seokjin has said anything in your presence though, since you haven’t joined his rich-people parties in months. In fact, the last time you saw Seokjin was at his birthday party last year.

Wincing at this, you return to Jimin.

Admittedly, he makes some good points. You haven’t dated someone in ages. Your former job took up most of your time, and when you did date, it was friends of co-workers or people you met through work. Since quitting, you’ve taken a step back from the dating pool. As nice as it is to be wined and dined, you haven’t felt the need to take on someone new.

Not with how messy your personal feelings already are.

Mostly, you’ve thrown yourself into the coffee shop and writing. Jimin has encouraged you to branch out and meet new people, but it’s been hard. Especially after everything that happened with Seokjin.

“Maybe,” you sigh, looking up.

Bzzz-zzzz. Your phone jolts on the counter, and you choose to ignore it.

Jimin’s face brightens. “Maybe? Yes! I’ll text the group and have them add you to the chat. They’re going to be so psyched to have another driver, Y/N – you won’t believe how slowly Max goes on the highway, and – okay, who has been texting you?” Jimin glares at your phone when it buzzes again. “That has to be the tenth text in a row.”

“Probably emails,” you say, reaching sideways. “I need to turn notifications off. Ever since that info leak last year, I get so much spam that–”

Unfortunately, the name on the screen stops you, mid-sentence. You do have emails, along with a text from your sister, but it’s the name at the top driving your current state of paralysis.

Seokjin – (1) unread text.

“What?” Jimin attempts to peer over your shoulder. “Who is it?”

“No one,” you blurt, yanking your phone away. “Nothing.”

Hovering over the trash can, you swipe sideways. Seokjin’s text fills the screen.

Seokjin: *emergency emoji* so, I have news… [3:11 PM]

Fear grips your chest, filling you with dread while you await the next text. For months, you’ve anticipated this message. Seokjin has finally proposed, and his girlfriend, Emilia, has accepted. Your best friend – if you can still call him that – is engaged. Fully taken. Off the market.

Of course, if Seokjin were still your best friend, you’d have no doubts regarding his text. You’d be elated, excited by the next stage in his life. You’d be happy for him, happy for Emilia, and eager at the prospect of an over-the-top wedding invite. Emilia’s family is as rich as Seokjin’s, after all.

Instead, you find yourself feeling – well. Not happy.

In an attempt at distraction, you read your sister’s text about what to get your mom for Mother’s Day. The two of you have combined gifts for years, but the burden usually falls on you. Something about your mom’s latest boyfriend rubs your sister the wrong way.

Another text flashes on top of your screen.

Seokjin: Emilia and I broke up [3:13 PM]

Your eyes widen.

Dimly, you realize this is a terrible way to receive information, but your fingers are already moving. Returning to Seokjin, you see he’s still typing. His ellipses pause, then start, then pause again. At last, a new message comes through.

Seokjin: well, we broke up a while ago but guess what haha [3:15 PM]

Seokjin: now she’s dating Jaesuk [3:15 PM]

Before you can recognize the foolishness of doing so, you gasp. Jimin thrusts himself over the top of the screen, blonde hair falling forward as he tries to read.

“Y/N,” he whines. “Come on! Tell me what’s happening – did Tom and Zendaya break up? Get engaged? Break up, then get engaged?”

Dazed, you shake your head. “It’s uh, Seokjin.”

Jimin pauses. “Seokjin?” Glancing upward, his brows furrow. “Your friend, Seokjin? The one who’s… you know,” he says, miming something with one hand.

“… sexually active?”

“No.” Jimin huffs. “Loaded! That was me, swiping my black card.”

“Oh. That was unclear. But yeah, Seokjin’s family is well-off.”

Jimin whistles and looks at the ceiling. “Well-off. That’s what the uber-rich say to make it sound like they’re still in touch with reality. This guy must be dripping money.”

You have no response to this, since Jimin isn’t wrong. Although Seokjin himself is an untenured professor, there’s no way he could afford his current apartment without his inheritance. No way he could have completed his PhD in four years without the luxury of not having to work. Not to mention he teaches at a university with one of the largest endowments in the country and a building donated by his great-grandfather.

Because Jimin is a more recent friend, he’s never met Seokjin. Seokjin and you didn’t go to college together – he attended the same university he teaches for now. Jimin knows who Seokjin is, though. Hard to be friends with you and not know who he is.

As the second Kim son, Seokjin escaped the gargantuan task of inheriting the family business. Mostly, Seokjin’s parents leave him alone to do what he wants. Jaesuk, Seokjin’s older brother, wasn’t as lucky.

Which takes you back to the text. Emilia is dating Jaesuk.

“Anyways,” you say. “Seokjin texted me something surprising. That’s all.”

Jimin clasps both hands together. “Oh?”

You feel your face heat. “Not like that, you idiot. He has a girlfriend. Or – well, he had a girlfriend. He just texted me that they ended things.”

“And?”

“And…” Against your better judgement, the words rush out, “Now, his ex-girlfriend is dating Seokjin’s older brother.”

“WHAT,” Jimin yells at the unfortunate moment a new customer enters.

Both your heads jerk sideways. Before Jimin can recover, you scoop up your phone and dart towards the back. “Gotta go,” you blurt in a split-second decision. “Can you greet that customer? I’m due for my break. Thanks, Jimin!” you call, pushing through the staff door.

Through the frosted window, you see Jimin fume, then paste on his best customer service smile. Exhaling lowly, you lock the door and collapse at the small, wooden table.

Your heart pounds in the silence, unnaturally loud. Placing your phone on the table, you stare at the wallpaper – a photo of the city skyline you took last fall. Before that it was a photo of you and Seokjin. Your screensaver has always been you and Seokjin, something you never questioned until last year. Last summer, to be precise.

“Get ahold of yourself,” you mutter.

Taking a deep breath, your fingers hover over his name. You press call before you can second-guess yourself, Seokjin’s name filling the screen. He answers almost immediately.

“Hello?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Seokjin sounds out of breath, deeper than you remember. How unfair would it be for him to experience a second puberty burst. The first was torture enough for you as a teenager. Overnight, Seokjin transformed from your nerdy best friend to a soft-spoken, hilarious man the entire school wanted.

“… Y/N?”

Opening your eyes, you scoop up your phone and take it off speaker. “Oh, hey – yeah, it’s me.”

He chuckles. “I figured when I saw your name calling.”

“You never know.” Aimless, you pick at the lint of your apron. “Maybe I was in a tragic accident, and someone found my phone at the scene of the crime.”

“Does that mean I’m your emergency contact, Y/N? I’m touched.”

Your cheeks heat since yes, you’re not sure you ever changed that. What you say though, is, “Don’t get cocky. I have all my phone contacts listed as emergency contacts. I like to hedge my bets.”

He laughs, louder this time. “Hey, no judgement here. Pretty sure you’re still mine.”

Your fingers still on your apron. You shouldn’t be his contact – not after everything. Harshly, you stamp out the hope rising within you. Seokjin’s lack of foresight and planning shouldn’t be taken as anything but just that.

“Right.” You pause. “Sorry – is this a bad time? I should have texted back, but I’m at work, and thought it’d be easier to call…”

“You’re at work? Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“I’m on a break, don’t worry about it.”

A long pause. At last, Seokjin sighs and the knot in your chest tightens. You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen him upset. Once when your parents were getting divorced, and you ignored his texts for a week. Another, when he and his college girlfriend, Lisa, broke up. Another when his mom was diagnosed with breast cancer (currently in remission). And then again, when your ex cheated on you with your supposed best friend senior year. Seokjin drove across state lines all night to be on your campus by morning.

He sounds upset now, too.

“Yeah.” Seokjin exhales. “You thought this conversation would be better in person, and as always, you were right, Y/N.”

The way he says your name sparks wistful familiarity. It also reminds you of a darkened hallway, whiskey on Seokjin’s breath and – you stop the memory in its tracks.

“What happened?” you press. “I just… damn, Seokjin. The last time I saw you and Emilia, the two of you seemed so, um… so…”

“Coupled?”

“I was going to say nauseating, but yeah.”

Seokjin barks out a laugh. “Way to kick a guy when he’s down, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you say, but your lips twitch. “Although… I don’t mean to be rude, but… you don’t sound down? You sound… surprisingly chipper for a man who was cuckolded.”

The truth of this statement resonates within you. Seokjin sounded tired when he answered, but everything since has felt almost normal. Almost – because the elephant in the room has not gotten smaller.

The last time you spoke face-to-face was December.

“Whoa, whoa – hang on,” he sputters. “Who said anything about cuckolding?”

“Were you not? Le cuckold, as the French say?”

“Wait.” Seokjin sounds amused. “To be clear, which party is the cuckold? The guy who cheats or the guy cheated on? Also – why is there no name for the woman in this scenario?”

“Oh, there are plenty of names for the woman. They’re just not as fun, and heavily drenched in misogyny.”

“Right, right. The patriarchy, etc. – but seriously, Emilia didn’t cheat on me. Or she says she didn’t, and I’m inclined to agree.” He pauses. “I think.”

“You think?”

“I do believe her. But… well, even if she didn’t technically cheat… even if we broke up in December, then waited a respectable period of time and then they started dating – it still feels weird. Like, was she into him the entire time we dated? Was my brother into her?”

“No good answers come from that line of questioning,” you say grimly.

“I know.” Seokjin groans, and you imagine him dragging a hand down his face. “You’re right, but I can’t stop picturing it. And they didn’t.”

“They didn’t what?”

“Wait a respectable amount of time,” he mutters. “Emilia and I broke up in December, and they told me at the end of March they were dating. Meaning they started dating before and only deemed it serious enough to tell me in March.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Hence the thinking.”

“About the timeframe, or the general weirdness?” you prompt.

In the back of your mind, you can't help wondering what made Seokjin reach out. According to what he just said, Seokjin has known about Jaesuk and Emilia since March. Granted, everything about this is strange and it's valid to vent, but you haven't spoken to Seokjin in months. Even before the break-up, it's been ages since you spoke about anything real.

“Both,” he says in response to your question.

“Not… anything else?”

“What else would I be thinking about, Y/N?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you huff, twisting the thread of your apron. “Are you still in love with Emilia? It’s hard to be around an ex normally, but this…” Trailing off, you shake your head.

“What? No. I mean, yeah – it’s not fun to be around them. But no,” Seokjin says, decisive. “I’m not in love with her.”

Your lips tighten, unsure how much to believe. Still, you decide not to push him. Years of experience have taught you that if Seokjin isn’t ready to talk about something, you won’t get a peep out of him. If it were you, though, five months isn’t enough to fall out of love.

“Okay,” is all you say. Glancing at the staff door, you watch Jimin hand the customer their drink. Your break will be over soon, one way or another.

“I’m… actually glad you called me, Y/N.”

The hesitancy in his voice draws you back. “You are?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin clears his throat, a nervous tic. “Jaesuk called me yesterday. You know how my parents’ anniversary is in May?”

“Of course.”

Obviously, you know. Seokjin’s parents are strange for many reasons, not least of which is their genuine love for one another. They are also – you can say this after many years working in consulting – the most normal rich people you’ve ever encountered. Most of their wealth is donated each year, with a small stipend (still an insane amount) granted to each family member.

The weekend of their anniversary is the exception to this rule. Seokjin’s parents go all out, spending an entire week at their lake house, hosting lavish parties which cumulate in the main event. Growing up, you attended as Seokjin’s plus one. This all changed when Seokjin got his first girlfriend, although you still attended a few years later as the date of his sister, Seohyun.

Glancing at the calendar on the wall, you realize their anniversary is coming up. Seokjin’s family will probably leave for their lake house next weekend.

“Yeah.” Seokjin again clears his throat. “So, uh, my brother called and… at first, he and Emilia weren’t going to come. They decided to skip this year because of the obvious.”

“The cuckoldom, yes.”

“I said the obvious,” Seokjin says drily. “But anyways. Well.” He exhales, and you remember again that between you, Seokjin could be called mild-mannered. “Jaesuk wants to know if it would be okay with me if they come together. Emilia’s parents were invited, and they thought it might be weird…”

Your jaw has dropped again. “How would that be weirder than Emilia attending with your brother?”

“I don’t know,” he groans, and from the way his voice muffles, you imagine him laying his head on his desk. Seokjin usually grades papers in the late afternoon.

His apartment is gigantic, a three-story brownstone located in Hyde Park with a view of Lake Michigan. His study (yes, he has a study) always reminded you of the library in Beauty and the Beast. Perhaps a bit smaller, with less fiction on the walls.

Dimly, it registers that Seokjin’s parents invited the Astors. Granted, Emilia’s family runs in the same circle, but the invitation feels odd. Odd – and cruel, to invite Seokjin’s-ex-slash-Jaesuk’s-current girlfriend.

What a mess.

Numbly, you shake your head. “They want you to spend an entire week together? Alone? In the middle of the wilderness?”

“Michigan isn’t exactly Siberia, Y/N.”

“But… you, your brother, and the woman you’ve both slept with – in one house?”

“I probably wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“You… said no, right?”

A long, awkward pause follows.

Your voice rises. “Right?” you demand, gripping the phone tighter.

“No.” Seokjin’s voice muffles once more. “I told them I wasn’t sure, but I’d let them know.”

“Seokjin! You absolutely cannot spend an entire week with them alone.”

“Aha!”

“What?” you ask, blinking at his note of triumph.

“You’re absolutely right. I can’t spend the week with them… alone.”

Your brows furrow. “So… you agree with me?”

“No, Y/N,” Seokjin says. “I can’t spend the week with them alone. But… with someone else…”

A beat passes.

“Are you dating someone new?” you ask. “Is that it? You’re going to subject some poor, unsuspecting person to your Shakespearean family drama?”

“Not a poor, unsuspecting person, no…”

Suspicion slowly dawns. “Seokjin…”

“Yes?”

“You can’t be serious.”

His throat clears. “I was thinking… maybe... you could join.”

The silence stretches between you so long, Seokjin grows concerned. “Y/N?” His voice dims, like he’s checking the call hadn’t dropped. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” you croak. “Physically. Mentally, I think something has broken, because I just heard you ask me something insane.”

“See!” Seokjin blurts. “This is why I need you there. You’re so good at making things less awkward. And my family loves you – their attention would all be on you, and not on how weird and insane my life is.”

Groaning out loud, you sink further into the chair. This is a bad idea. Truly abysmal, but…

You already know you’ll say yes. Saying no to Seokjin has never been an option.

Back in college, you joined his family trips all the time. Back then, your dad wasn’t taking care of himself, your mom had run off with her first new boyfriend, and you had nowhere to go during summer holidays. Frequently, the Kim’s referred to you as their second daughter – but all that was ages ago.

Seokjin didn’t even call when he and Emilia broke up.

“Seokjin,” you sigh. “Why are you asking me this?”

A long pause. “I just told you why.”

“No. I mean… I didn’t even know you were single.” You hesitate, then barrel on. “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone since – god, I don’t even know. Last year?”

Seokjin’s ensuing silence is damning. An unspoken question hovers between you: Has anything changed since the last time we saw each other?

"I’m… sorry, Y/N." He exhales. "I know… I should have reached out to you sooner. I just… I just couldn’t.”

Your lips purse, watching the door. Your break must be over, but luckily, Jimin has given you space to process. As much as he pretends to be needy, his ability to read the room is remarkable.

“Ugh,” you groan, tipping your head back. Your eyes close. “Let me think about it.”

“Wait – really?” Seokjin blurts. “Thank you, Y/N! You won’t regret this – I swear.”

“I haven’t agreed to it yet!”

“Right, sure. Of course,” he hastens, attempting to sound mollified.

Your lips twitch. “I have to get back to my shift.”

“Yes. Make that money.”

“Eh.”

“Make… minimum wage plus tips?”

“Closer,” you sigh, pushing yourself to stand. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay. And Y/N?”

You hover near the door. “Yeah?”

Seokjin pauses. “There are a lot of logical reasons why it’d be great if you came, but honestly?” His voice thickens. “I just… want you there.”

There’s an ache in your chest you wish could say was a stranger. In truth though, the feeling is exactly why you should say no.

You never had a great sense of self-preservation, though. Instead, find yourself saying–

“Yes.”

Honking outside your apartment at 8:00 AM on a Sunday does little to endear Seokjin to Jimin. Standing by the window of your third story walk-up, he holds the curtain back with his pinky finger. Dressed in a green silk dressing gown, Jimin purses his lips.

“Does he really expect to just… honk, and have you fall in line?”

“That’s what we agreed,” you huff, dragging your luggage into the living room. “He said he would be here at 8:00 and I’d meet him outside.”

Jimin’s frown deepens. “He’s blocking the alley. If someone sideswipes him, that’s not my problem.”

You struggle to break free from your purse strap, which seems determined to fight back. “Seokjin isn’t used to driving in the city, give him a break.”

“Oh, he’s not the one driving.”

“What?”

“Someone else is in the car.”

Succeeding in getting your purse to lay flat, you join Jimin at the window. True to his word, a sleek black town car idles at the curb. The only reason someone hasn’t rammed into it yet is due to the early hour. Otherwise, your neighbors wouldn’t be shy about making their displeasure known. Read: petty vandalism.

Pulling the curtain back further, you curse. Seokjin leans against the side of the car, the trunk already popped. Someone else clearly sits in the front seat, which means Seokjin hired a driver.

“That’s just his driver,” you mutter, turning around.

The curtain falls, and Jimin whirls. “So, he is a one percenter.”

You choose to remain silent, dragging your suitcase to the top of the landing. Jimin follows close behind, hair sticking up in several directions.

“He’s also hotter than you led me to believe,” he accuses, following you down the stairs. You continue to ignore him, your suitcase banging each step. “Granted, I only saw him from three stories up, but I can tell. You undersold. Hmm… now, why would you do that, Y/N?”

“You’re dating Hoseok,” you remind him. “And Seokjin is straight.”

He continues, unbroken. “What would be the reason to downplay your best friend’s hotness?”

There’s a teasing note in his voice that says Jimin knows damn well why you’d do such a thing. It’s the same reason you’re going on this trip, and why you continue to reject every guy he sets you up with.

Reaching the front door, you set your bag down. “Okay,” you growl, turning around to poke Jimin in the chest. “You stay inside. This is precisely why I said I’d meet Seokjin at the curb.”

“Because of me?” Jimin clutches his chest, wounded. “Come on, Y/N. I just wanna see the guy you’re so damn in love with that you refuse to go out with any of my super cool friends. Pleaseeee –”

A loud knock makes you jump.

Eyes wide, you hold a silent, one-sided argument with Jimin that he clearly ignores. Exhaling, you spin around and grasp the handle. This is fine. Everything is fine. You can do this; all you need is to stay cool and composed – all this dissolves when you open the door.

Seokjin stands with a hand outstretched, as though about to knock.

Next to you, Jimin inhales. “Whoa,” he mutters close to your ear. “Okay. I get it.”

Seokjin’s gaze flicks to him. “What?”

Slowly, you turn and glare at your roommate.

To his credit, Jimin swiftly recovers. “I get… I mean, got your scone, Y/N! You forgot it upstairs,” he amends, shoving his own half-eaten scone into your empty hand. “I saw it on the kitchen table, so I followed you down.”

“Oh.” Seokjin looks between you. “That was nice of you…”

“Jimin.” Beaming, Jimin shoves past to shake Seokjin’s outstretched hand. “I’m so glad we met. I’ve heard so much about you – Y/N’s best friend, in the flesh. Someone’s going to hit your car if you continue blocking the alley.”

Seokjin doesn’t seem to know what to do with this information, especially not while Jimin vigorously pumps his hand up and down. Deciding this is too much before coffee, you begin to pass Jimin with your bag in tow.

“Oh – here,” Seokjin hastens, breaking away to grab the handle. “I’ve got it. Nice to meet you, man,” he says, glancing at Jimin.

When you start to leave, Jimin contorts himself enough to drop a kiss on your cheek. A moment of what can only be described as negative sexual tension follows, and you stare at him, baffled, before walking away. Jimin winks as you go, the purpose of which you realize when you catch Seokjin watching.

He looks almost… mad?

He also looks insanely good. The benefit of Jimin being chaotic means you had no time to second-guess your greeting. You were so busy trying to contain the conversation, you didn’t worry about what would be appropriate to say during your first meeting in months.

Now, though, you have time to look at him. Seokjin is simultaneously perfectly put together and artfully tousled. His hair is longer than the last time you saw him, piece-y black waves falling over his forehead. The morning is cold enough that he wears a light jacket, a white button-down and slacks freshly pressed underneath.

Great. Seokjin looks hot. There goes all your hope for a painless vacation.

You glance at your suitcase. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Take my bag,” you huff, reaching out.

Innocent, Seokjin yanks it behind him. “It’s the literal least I can do, Y/N. You’re the one doing me a huge favor.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

Seokjin chuckles when you head for the car, carefully picking your way to the curb. April showers really did bring the May flowers or, in your case, serious flooding that has since subsided but left a mark.

Sliding into the backseat, you glance at your building and spot Jimin in the window, still clad in his dressing gown. He waves enthusiastically at the car and blows another kiss. Scowling up at him, you almost don’t notice when Seokjin slides in.

When the door shuts, you notice – it should be criminal to smell as good as he does. It doesn’t help that you know exactly which Molton Brown body wash Seokjin uses, nor that you were there when he picked the scent in high school.

The two of you became friends in elementary school. Seokjin was seated beside you in class; his parents wanted him to experience 'normal life' and enrolled him in public school. Really, the only thing normal at that school was his friendship with you.

Extracting yourself from your purse, you watch Seokjin lean forward and press a button. “George?” he asks, lowering the partition.

A middle-aged man sits in the driver’s seat. He smiles at you in the rearview mirror, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Yes, Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin winces at the formality. “We’re ready to go. I’d like to –”

BEEEEEEEEEEEP.

A car honks from the alley and, hiding a smile, you slump lower. Seokjin blinks, glancing behind you to spot a car revving its engine.

Sighing resignedly, he faces forward. “Wormhole Coffee, George – thank you.”

George nods, ever the professional while rolling up the partition to move the car forward. You rumble along side streets in silence until you peer at Seokjin.

“So,” you say casually. “A driver?”

His gaze meets yours. “The weather looked bad. I figured it’d be nice to have George drive us out of the city.”

“Just out of the city, huh?”

“Yep.” He nods. “Then we’re on our own. Figured we could hitchhike, or maybe steal someone’s car?”

“Oh, cool. With the way the world’s going, I’d hoped to die young.”

Seokjin’s laugh echoes around you. The sound makes your heart twinge, and you move your gaze to your lap. By the time you reach Wormhole Coffee, your thoughts are muddled. You didn’t expect this to be so awkward and – not for the first time – wonder why Seokjin invited you. He could have asked anyone; a co-worker or college buddy, hell, even a neighbor.

Stepping from the car, you barely reach the door before Seokjin appears. “Hey,” he says, placing a hand on your arm.

You blink downward, and he swiftly removes it.

“I… uh.” Again, he clears his throat. “I hope this weekend doesn’t make things weird for you. You know you don’t have to come if things are… complicated.”

You look at him. “If what things are complicated?”

“If” – aimless, he waves – “you know. Let’s say you and I were dating, and you suddenly went on a trip with your guy friend alone. I might feel weird about it.”

You’re so hung up on Seokjin saying you and I were dating, you nearly miss the important bit. Once that sinks in, you can’t help but grin.

Seokjin frowns. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you… think Jimin and I are dating?”

Your tone is almost gleeful, and Seokjin’s eyes narrow. “I thought that maybe…”

“We’re not,” you declare, pushing open the door. “But I appreciate the concern. Jimin and I just work together. He’s happily dating someone else.”

“Ah.”

Stopping at the counter, you survey the menu. Ordering one of the spring coffee specials, you move to the end and grab several napkins. Seokjin joins you, waiting patiently until both your orders are called. George is idling at the curb – you have to admit, a personal driver has benefits – and you slide into the backseat with your iced latte procured.

Once the door shuts, Seokjin turns. “I’m sorry. I promised this wouldn’t be awkward, and here I am, being awkward. Thank you… for being here.”

“No problem.”

A loud silence follows, interrupted only by the sound of the car starting. George heads for the highway, and you take a long sip of your coffee.

Despite your exterior, you’re freaking out on the inside. Apparently, you were right to worry because this is going about as terrible as you imagined. Not because of the obvious – you have feelings for your best friend and he’s jealous of his ex – but because somehow, the two of you have nothing to say.

“Seriously.” Seokjin struggles to find his next words. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve been dreading this week. I know I played it cool over the phone–”

“Uh, that was playing it cool?”

“–but actually,” he continues, as though you haven’t spoken, “I’ve been panicking.”

Another twinge when you realize you were right. Seokjin claimed he was over Emilia, but there’s no way he could be. If it were, he wouldn’t need you to be here. He wouldn’t be dreading this interaction if he had moved on.

Of course, Seokjin isn’t over her. They’ve barely been broken up for six months. You’ve waited longer to get a new pet.

“Well, sure,” you say, softening as you face him. “That makes sense. Anyone would be freaked out by the prospect of spending an entire week with their ex. Doubly so, if said ex was now dating their sibling.”

Seokjin pulls a face. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

“… did they kill someone, too?”

“Okay, fine – that is the worst part, but it sucks how weird everyone else is being. How nice,” he elaborates, catching your look. “My parents tiptoe around me, not knowing how to act. Jaesuk is practically self-flagellating, and Emilia is ignoring me, because –”

“Hang on – how is Jaesuk self-flagellating?”

Seokjin exhales and sinks lower. “Jaesuk has apologized to me so many times, he’s going to leave permanent knee indents on my floor. He keeps randomly texting me, offering to buy stuff, which is just plain insulting.”

“You know who isn’t insulted by expensive gifts? Me.” You jab a thumb at your chest. “Tell Jaesuk if he wants to make things up to you, he should make things up to me.”

Rather than laugh at your joke, Seokjin’s face flushes. You tilt your head, unsure where you went wrong until he dispels the tension with a soft chuckle. Eyes narrowed, you study him. Strange.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Anyways, since I said you were coming, things have been almost normal. Now, at least my parents are fixated on you and not whether they should console their broken-hearted son” – he points to himself, mimicking your gesture from earlier – “or celebrate Jaesuk finding new love.”

“Love?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin grimaces. “He let that one slip last week. I think… there may have been feelings between them for a while, even if they never acted on it.”

He doesn’t sound upset, but you can’t keep your own jaw from clenching. Even if Seokjin has moved on from Emilia (which, again, you doubt), their behavior is inexcusable. Seokjin can be as generous as he wants, but you don’t have to feel the same.

Teeth grinding, you wonder how civil you need to be on this trip.

“Can you stop plotting revenge, Y/N?” Seokjin says mildly. “You know that makes me uncomfortable.”

Reluctant, you unclench your jaw. “Who, me?”

“Please.” Seokjin sips his coffee. “You forget I know you, Y/N. Your face is very… expressive.”

“Okay, you’re one to talk!”

Besides, no matter how expressive you are, Seokjin has still never caught onto your biggest secret over the years. The one Jimin guessed right away – that for years, you’ve been madly in love with your supposed best friend.

The knowledge is sobering enough that you turn towards the window. Last December was simply the accumulation of many years of pining – admittedly, you didn’t realize the severity of your feelings until late last summer.

In your twenties, you would have wondered if this week meant something more than friendship. You would have read between the lines of what Seokjin was saying, and saw meaning in his small gestures. Now, you’ve known him for twenty years, and can say with complete certainty that Seokjin is just a good person. He values friendship highly, as much as romantic relationships, and he values you most of all.

And even though he values you, his feelings for you don’t go beyond platonic. It’s better not to go down that road again – no, the only way you’ll survive this week is to take everything at face value. You pulled away for a reason, and now you’re forced to remember. The only way to leave this intact is to continually remind yourself the two of you are just friends.

“I made a playlist,” you announce, unzipping your purse. “It’s everything that you love – study lo-fi beats, classical music, and whale sounds. You know, because of academia?”

Seokjin sighs deeply but obediently plugs in your phone. The first chords of your chill driving playlist come over the speakers, and you settle in. Seokjin responds by pulling out his phone, brow furrowed as he sends off a text. His job can be demanding at times, especially until he gets tenure.

While Jaesuk was groomed to take over the family company, Seokjin was left to pursue his own dreams. For as long as you’ve known him, Seokjin has been fascinated by the people around him. What makes them tick, why people do things, how we influence one another – his first anthropology course felt like coming home, he said back in college.

Even though his career is what Seokjin wants, it doesn’t come without stress. During your twenties, Seokjin entertained you with many tales of bitter rivals, faux plagiarism, and the insane emails his students send to him before class. Most Friday nights were spent at his place, with Seokjin grading papers while you lay on his couch and drank wine.

Swallowing, you stare out the window. The current situation is your fault, you remind yourself. Maybe if you had been braver earlier, more willing to blow up your sense of security for the unknown… then maybe you wouldn’t be in this same place with Seokjin.

The first time you felt more than friendship was in high school. Seokjin transformed overnight, returning from his fancy summer camp at least six inches taller and broader. Somone (probably his sister) bought him styling products, and even though gelled hair is out of touch now – back in high school? Devastating.

You convinced yourself the feelings meant nothing. Hormones. Puberty. Something temporary and fleeting, not the permanent realization Seokjin was your entire world. That came later.

For a few years, you did a good job at convincing yourself. You dated other people, even seriously – David, your first love. The two of you began dating when you were sixteen and lasted until your first semester of college. When you broke up, you called Seokjin and cried to him on the phone for hours. At some point, you fell asleep and woke up to realize he’d never hung up.

Something soft took root in your chest that day. You meant to confess when you came home for winter break, only to reach his family’s Christmas party and find Seokjin arm in arm with his new girlfriend, Lisa. Gorgeous, thin, rich and the same major as Seokjin – you slunk off that night after being introduced as his friend and found comfort with Seohyun in her parents’ wine cellar.

That was the moment you decided to move on. You couldn’t continue to make decisions around the hope Seokjin would one day see you as more. He was a good friend – the best friend – and you valued that, too. For years, you thought you’d succeeded. You dated casually, buried yourself in your work, and watched as Seokjin did the same.

There was a brief scare when you both moved to Chicago, and you found yourself becoming reacquainted. The Seokjin of your childhood had gone, leaving a man in his place. Eventually though, even that faded, and you convinced yourself friendship was enough. It had to be enough, because Seokjin never hinted at wanting more. If he sometimes sat too close or looked at you too long – well, that was just how Seokjin was.

Until Emilia.

Emilia was the first girlfriend Seokjin had who made sense. She fit in with his friends, was of the same upbringing, had the right social status and worst of all, she was nice. Emilia was cool, effortless, and about a million other things which made her a good match for Seokjin. In a horrible burst of karmic justice you realized that summer you didn’t want Seokjin to find a good match. You wanted him to find you.

The realization humiliated you. You were Seokjin’s best friend – you should have been happy for him. You had had years, decades, to confess your feelings and skipped past all of them. You spent so many years insisting you were fine, that these feelings meant nothing, and everything was a lie.

Seokjin was oblivious. Once you understood your own feelings, you realized you had been hiding this from him for years. It made you well-equipped to handle him with Emilia. Or at least, you thought it would. Seokjin continued inviting you to parties, asking you to hang out with him and Emilia, or join them on couple vacations.

At first, you said yes but brought buffers. Hinge dates, friends of friends, even co-workers – despite numerous distractions, none of them worked. By the end of the summer, you had made moves in your career to be happier. Soon after, you realized you needed to do the same in your personal life.

You began to pull away: taking longer to respond to Seokjin’s texts, making excuses when you were invited out, and cancelling plans at the last minute. All throughout the fall this continued, cumulating in December at Seokjin’s birthday party.

He stopped by your coffee shop in November, catching you in the middle of cleaning the espresso machine. “Promise me you’ll come,” Seokjin insisted, leaning over the counter.

Jimin wasn’t on shift that day, and you struggled to remember what piece to clean next. Frustration rose, trapped behind your teeth – at how to clean the machine, nothing more.

“I’ll try,” you said at last, but avoided his gaze.

Seokjin left soon after. Still, him going out of his way triggered your guilt complex enough that you chose to go. Seokjin barely said hello when you arrived. He had a few drinks. So did you. Emilia always stood near him, chatting in the corner with mutual friends.

At some point, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. For the first time all night, you let your expression drop. Sinking onto the closed toilet seat, you buried your face in your hands and wondered why you had come. You stayed there several minutes, composing yourself enough to exit.

Seokjin waited outside.

Leaning against the wall, his posture seemed stiff. You rarely saw Seokjin angry, but when you did – well, it was hard to stay platonic with that look in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen you all night,” he said, unmoving.

You came to a stop. “It seemed like you were enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to intrude. Happy birthday, though.”

His frown deepened. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” Seokjin paused, then refocused. “You look nice.”

Noticing the glassiness in his eyes, you sighed, “You’re drunk.”

“Traditionally, people buy the birthday boy drinks.”

“Gross,” you said, unable to keep from smiling. “Don’t ever call yourself the birthday boy again.”

He chuckled and then – silence. Each passing second thickened between you, until you could scarcely breathe.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Seokjin blurted at last.

You inhaled, not having expected him to be so blunt.

“I’m n–”

“Don’t say you’re not.” Swaying a little, he pushed himself from the wall. “I don’t… please don’t lie to me, Y/N. I can’t take it.”

Startled, you realized he had moved closer. There wasn’t much space between you in the hall. Seokjin seemed to realize this at the same moment you did. His gaze darted once, then twice to your mouth – and stayed.

Your throat dried.

At that very moment, Emilia walked around the corner. Seokjin leapt back as though burned, and you swept into motion, mumbling happy birthday again as you passed. You didn’t stop moving until you were past the bouncer and standing outside. Trembling, you pulled out your phone and ordered a rideshare.

Nothing happened that night. Nothing significant, and yet…

His face remains clear in your mind. Cheeks flushed from drink and anger, his button-down partly undone. You remember how the world stopped, continuing to spin on around you. You had felt that way plenty of times in his presence, but it was the first time you wondered if maybe… Seokjin felt it, too.

It didn’t matter though, because he was dating Emilia. You left the party that night and have barely talked to him since. Not until Seokjin called to invite you to his parents’ lake house.

Resting your forehead against the window, you close your eyes as the memory replays again. At some point, you drift off and the rest of the ride is in silence.

The next thing you know is someone touching your shoulder. Blearily, you crack open an eye and are affronted by Seokjin.

Affronted, since it’s unfair for someone to look this good – except. Frowning, you notice his jaw, tight with tension. Seokjin smooths this quickly, but you notice all the same. Examining him further, you find dark shadows beneath his eyes. Criminal for Seokjin Kim, who uses specially made dermatology products that can’t be bought in a store.

Again, you wonder if there’s something he’s not saying. Emilia being with Jaesuk must be weighing on him.

There’s no time to inquire though, since you look out the window and see you’ve arrived. The Kim family lake house sprawls ahead and to the left. Even after so many years, you find yourself struck by the sight.

A driveway winds through the forest, ending at bluffs overlooking Lake Michigan. The limestone mansion is covered in ivy, lending itself to a storybook appearance. Manicured gardens extend towards the lake, several gardeners at work on flower beds. You remember the first time you came; you refused to exit the car. It seemed impossible that so much beauty could be meant for you.

Pushing this away, you face Seokjin. He fidgets with the end of his seatbelt, causing your own frown to deepen.

“What’s wrong?” you demand.

“Nothing,” Seokjin blurts, only to wince. “Well. There is one thing, but I –”

The front door flies open, and you see Mrs. Kim emerge through the car window. Even through glass, you hear her calling your names.

Giving Seokjin a look, you push open your door. He blanches and unbuckles his seat belt. “Y/N, wait –”

Unfortunately, your door is already open. Mrs. Kim gasps when you step outside, hurrying towards you in what she calls ‘casual’ wear – slacks, a cardigan, and loafers worth more than your rent.

“Y/N,” she cries, throwing both arms around you. “Oh, it’s so good to have you here.”

Returning the hug, you can’t help but smile. Seokjin’s family has always felt like home to you. Your mom got pregnant with you at forty-six, which was a shock to everyone. Your sister is twelve years older, but it always felt like more. She was out of the house by the time you turned seven, leaving you alone with your parents.

Some would say that was the beginning of the end. Your parents got divorced when you were in high school and afterward, everything was different. Your dad is fine now but was a wreck for several years. Seokjin’s parents took you in on the holidays, inviting you along on vacations, and threw you birthday parties. It’s been too long since you saw them – probably last summer.

With a final squeeze, you release Mrs. Kim. “It’s so good to be here,” you say.

Being at the lake with Seokjin and his family brings the same sense of rightness as quitting your job. It feels like the moment at the end of a long day when you finish writing and finally crawl into bed.

Holding you at arm’s length, Mrs. Kim looks you up and down. “In fact, I’m so glad to see you,” she says with a chuckle, “I’ll forgive you for not calling the moment it happened.”

Your mind catches on this. “Oh?”

Seokjin appears at your side. He’s out of breath, and you wonder if he was busy lugging your suitcases inside. Usually, the Kim family has people to help with that. His expression is strange though, stuck between fear and resignation. You wonder if this has something to do with what he wanted to tell you in the car.

Stomach swooping, you wonder if there’s another surprise. Maybe Jaesuk and Emilia are engaged. Or pregnant. Maybe –

“You, too,” Mrs. Kim scolds, pulling Seokjin into a hug. He returns the gesture, looking slightly green. “You should have told us sooner! You know we would have been thrilled.”

Seokjin mumbles something you don’t hear as he takes a step backwards. Now, the wheels in your head are turning, and you begin to suspect you’re missing something important. Some key piece of information to explain why Mrs. Kim is beaming, hands clasped over her chest in near-supplication.

“Sorry,” you say, looking between them. “I feel kind of out of the loop… what should I have told you about earlier?”

Mrs. Kim blinks at you in confusion.

You aren’t looking at her, though. Instead, you find yourself watching Seokjin, who purposely avoids eye contact. After a moment, he seems to reach some internal decision. Taking a deep breath, Seokjin reaches out and takes your hand.

“Y/N,” he says, and then stops.

His mom laughs and claps her hands. “Oh! That was a joke – Y/N, you’re too funny. What am I talking about,” she chuckles, as though you’re all in this together. “Why, the fact that you’re dating, of course!”

Time screeches to a halt. Or it at least lethargizes, slowing to rate beyond human comprehension. You slowly turn to face Seokjin, expecting him to show shock or confusion but find only chagrin.

It takes ages for your gaze to travel to your hand in his. Before you can say or do anything, Seokjin moves closer. Stroking your palm with his thumb, he smiles.

“This is exactly why we didn’t tell anyone,” he says with a forced laugh. “We knew you and dad would freak out, and there’s been enough of that lately.”

Realizing your mouth has fallen open, you manage to shut it. Seokjin has pulled himself together, but you’re not that good an actor. He sounds like he believes what he’s saying, which is insane. Dimly, you think back to his serious texting in the car and his attempt to say something before you got out. All of it ends at the same conclusion.

Seokjin knew this was coming. And he didn’t tell you.

Anger surges, and you grasp it like a lifeline. The emotion distracts you from other, less stable feelings churning within you. Lifting your chin, you force your expression to neutral.

“Yes,” you agree, pinching Seokjin’s wrist and making him jump. “It all happened so fast. I mean, if you can call twenty years fast,” you say in an attempt at a joke.

Mrs. Kim laughs again. “Oh, please. You two are made for each other. We’ve always thought so,” she adds, turning towards the house. “Jaeho, come out here!”

Jaw tight, you lapse into silence. Until you know exactly what Seokjin has said and to whom, it’s best to say nothing. The last thing you want is to hurt Seokjin’s family. Right now, your best bet is to hold it together until you can make an excuse to leave. Maybe there could be an emergency at the coffee shop. A run on – uh, beans? Or milk?

The one thing you do know is you can’t stay. Now that you know the full story, there’s no way you can pretend to date your best friend you’re secretly in love with in front of his ex. Just thinking about it gives you a headache.

Before you can pull Seokjin into the house, the door opens again and two people emerge. All thoughts vanish at the sight of a cream blouse and slacks. Seokjin immediately tenses, and unthinking, you take a step closer.

Emilia Astor is the epitome of old Hollywood. Her hair is shorter than the last time you met, cut in an elegant bob with a slight curl at the ends. Immediately, you feel dowdy in your old jeans and sweater. The way she dresses in all white and doesn’t spill anything continues to be awe-inspiring.

Jaesuk walks at her side, shielding his face from the sun. When they stop before you, he smiles at you and Seokjin.

“Y/N!” Emilia holds out both arms for a hug.

After an awkward pause, you step into the embrace. Half of you expects her to whisper something cutting in your ear, but that wouldn’t be like her. You’d deserve it, though, you realize. Face heating, you break the hug, and you consider how this looks.

Yes, Emilia started dating Seokjin’s brother a few months after she and Seokjin broke up. At the same time though, he (seemingly) asked out his best friend. You. A friendship Emilia knew of and trusted to only be platonic. Shoving your discomfort aside, you glance at Jaesuk.

“Hey, Jaesuk,” you say. “Good to see you, too.”

“Hi, Y/N.” He waves, folding Emilia into his side. “It’s really nice to have you here again.”

A small, relieved knot unwinds in your stomach. Jaesuk, at least, doesn’t seem mad at you. Hopefully that means Emilia is also taking the high road. While Jaesuk and Seokjin weren’t close growing up, they did a lot to improve their relationship during their twenties. You would hate for anything you did (perceived or real) to come between them.

Anything Emilia and Jaesuk did, your brain argues. Even if you were dating Seokjin, that’s nothing compared to the betrayal of his brother in dating his ex.

Thinking this, you take a step closer and place your hand on Seokjin’s chest. He glances down at this, then at you. His expression softens.

“There they are!” Mr. Kim’s voice booms, exiting the hedge maze – yes, the hedge maze –with Seohyun. “Finally, the entire family’s arrived.”

Shoving her phone in her pocket, Seohyun skips past her dad. “Y/N!” she cries, looping both arms around you. “My favorite sibling, at last.”

Jaesuk sighs, and Seokjin complains, “You’re not even related.”

“Obviously.” Seohyun withdraws and gives you a conspiratorial smile. “If we were, your relationship would be disgusting – not to mention, illegal.”

Seokjin sputters, and you can’t help but laugh.

Seohyun is two years younger than Seokjin and has always felt like more of a sister to you than your own. One of the hardest parts of the past year was pulling away from Seokjin knowing it meant losing his family. Even with Seohyun halfway around the world in Seoul, your text thread has never been silent for long.

“I missed you, too,” you admit.

Over her shoulder, you notice Emilia looking slightly downcast. She hides it quickly, but not fast enough. Releasing Seohyun, you end up standing beside your – apparent – boyfriend.

“Should we head inside?” Still beaming, Mrs. Kim looks between you and Seokjin. Still, she allows her husband to guide her towards the door. “It’s much too cold for this time in May.”

Jaesuk nudges Emilia. “Agreed. I’ll make a fire in the living room.”

They both head inside, leaving you standing with Seokjin and Seohyun. When you turn towards your suitcase, you realize it’s already moved. Seokjin has your purse over one shoulder, and he gestures you towards the front door.

Brushing past, you head for the house as your anger rises. Seohyun falls into step alongside you, gleeful, and you realize this may have been the wrong choice.

“So,” she says, whistling loudly. “This was a surprise, huh?” She waggles her eyebrows at you and her brother.

Rolling his eyes, Seokjin walks alongside you. “Did you think I’d give you a call the next morning, or something?”

You nearly choke when you hear what this implies.

Seohyun gags. “Gross. I so did not need the image of you and my brother hooking up. No offense, Y/N. But you could have called before announcing you were dating in the family group chat.”

Seokjin blanches, and you at last take pity on him. “It was my fault,” you say, putting yourself in between the siblings. “I didn’t want Seokjin to say anything until we were sure what this was. Things have been weird enough with… well.” Aimless, you gesture to where Emilia and Jaesuk have disappeared.

“Oh, yeah.” Seohyun turns grim. “That.”

“Seo,” Seokjin grumbles. “I told you – I’m fine with it.”

“Sure, you’re fine with it. That doesn’t mean I am.”

You laugh, unable to help it. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“See?” Triumphant, Seohyun locks arms. “It’s weird, Seokjin.”

The three of you cross the threshold, and for a moment, the nostalgia overwhelms. The black and white checkered tile stretches before you, a double staircase leading to the second and third floors. Above you hangs an antique chandelier, glass and wrought iron reminiscent of lace.

Seohyun breaks towards the kitchen, saying something about a snack before dinner. This leaves Seokjin and you all alone, and the feelings you’ve suppressed come flooding back.

Seokjin lied to you. He planned this. He had so many times to warn you over the past week – in the car ride! – and chose not to.

“Your room,” you snap, refusing to look at him when you walk past. “Now.”

Stopping at the stairs, you remove your shoes and stomp upstairs barefoot. Meekly, Seokjin follows you to the second floor. Muscle memory leads to the north wing, where you and Seokjin used to stay while here with his family. You hover outside his old room, realizing with horror you might be expected to share.

Assuming you decide to stay, that is.

Pushing open the door, you march inside and drop your shoes near the closet. The moment the door shuts, you whirl around.

“Explain,” you demand.

Seokjin hovers over the threshold. “I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “You can leave if you want to.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll figure something out. Make up some excuse – I promise.”

Dizzily, you shake your head. “That’s not an explanation, Seokjin. Why does your family think that we’re dating? This wasn’t what you asked me to do,” you add, lowering your voice in case someone walks past.

“It was an accident, I swear.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You didn’t mean to… what? To tell your family we’re dating?”

“No!” Seokjin blurts, then shakes his head. “That’s not what I told them. It’s… okay.” He stops and exhales. “After we talked last week, I put off telling them for a few days. I’ve been pretty silent in the group chat ever since… well, ever since Emilia and Jaesuk announced they were dating. When I finally got up the nerve, I texted them I was bringing you and went into class.”

Your brows lift. “And?”

“And” – Seokjin groans, collapsing onto the chaise – “things had spiraled by the time I got out. Everyone assumed I was bringing you… as my girlfriend. My mom responded saying how happy this made her, then my dad congratulated us on our ‘budding relationship,’ and my mom added how perfect it was…” Seokjin swallows, looking nauseous. “I had a voicemail from Jaesuk, telling me how relieved he felt. He’d been worried about bringing Emilia around, but with me dating someone, he thought this could work…” Seokjin trails off, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll fix this.”

It’s a struggle not to react. You tell yourself to stay strong, to hold your ground, but – well, you can’t help it when some of your anger unravels. As well-meaning as Seokjin’s family can be, you understand how it happened.

“Emilia,” Seokjin mumbles into his palms, “texted me saying how happy she was. That she was so glad I wasn’t hurt anymore. She acted like I was so pitiful. And I just… snapped, Y/N.”

“I get it.”

Slowly, he lowers both hands. “You… do?”

“Yeah.”

Seokjin watches you for a long moment. “So… where does this leave us?”

You consider the question, and everything that would follow. On the one hand – Seokjin should have told you. He should have called you the moment his family misunderstood. Or explained on the car ride up.

On the other hand, you’re here now. You saw for yourself how Seokjin isn’t over Emilia. Instead, she came here with Jaesuk and Seokjin is forced to watch them together. Alone.

At last, you exhale and shake your head.

“You should have told me.”

To his credit, Seokjin seems embarrassed. “I know. I should have.” The chaise squeaks when he stands, walking towards you. “Please, Y/N,” he declares, and to your surprise, drops to his knees. “Please, forgive me and fake date me. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll – I’ll do your laundry for a month.”

Eyes wide, you stare down at him. “I have a laundry machine in my unit, Seokjin.”

“Oh.” He considers. “I’ll walk your dog.”

“I don’t have a dog. You know that.”

“You can…” Desperate, he looks around. “You can use this house as a writing retreat! Whenever you want. I promise! All expenses paid, just tell me the dates. I’ll make sure my family clears out.”

This makes you hesitate. While you’ve made steady progress on your novel, it’s been difficult to write in your shared apartment. Jimin doesn’t exactly understand the meaning of personal space, and many a writing session has devolved into a movie marathon.

“Go on,” you say slowly.

Sensing weakness, Seokjin scoots closer. He clasps both hands before him, creating a distracting visual.

“Time to work on your novel,” he intones, his voice low. “Just picture it. This entire place to yourself. The peace and quiet you’ve always wanted but never achieved! Writing paradise! An entire staff at your beck and call. Me, chauffeuring you to and fro, bringing you fresh fruit and –”

“Okay, okay.” Flapping a hand, you gesture for him to stand. “Fine, fine – I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Seokjin bounds to his feet. “Wow, that was easy.”

“To be clear, I would have done it without the lake house.”

His smile vanishes. “What?”

“No take backs,” you say, wagging a finger. “Whenever I want – that’s what you said. I assume that makes it a standing offer? Holidays included?”

“Now, hang on…”

“You’re so generous,” you gush, bending to unzip your suitcase. “Thanks, darling. You do spoil me.”

A beat passes, enough that you look up to find Seokjin staring. Possibly you overdid it with ‘darling.’

Coming to, Seokjin crosses his arms. “Should’ve known you’d take me for all I was worth. You’re merciless, Y/N.”

You blow smoke off an imaginary gun. “We should probably get our story straight, though – right?” you ask, rummaging under your pants. “Like, how did this happen? How long have we been dating? And” – arching a brow, you look upward – “am I really staying in your room this whole week?”

Seokjin frowns, as though this hadn’t crossed his mind. Expression tight, you sit back on your heels. It’s hard not to react to the fact that Seokjin doesn’t want you in his personal space. You would understand if he hadn’t brought this upon himself, but he told his family you were dating, so they’re going to expect you to do dating things.

Rubbing his neck, Seokjin nods. “Yeah. Good point.” He considers, then seems to reach a decision. “How about this: we were hanging out last month, and you confessed that you liked me.”

“I confessed? Hell, no.”

Seokjin blinks. “What? Why?”

“Because! That makes it sound like I was pining for you during your entire relationship and pounced the second you became available.”

Seokjin smirks. “And?”

Incensed, you throw a handful of bras at his head. Seokjin yelps, dodging most of them – except a lacy, black contraption that lands on his shoulder. “Real mature,” he says, delicately removing it. “Anyways. So, we were hanging out last month –”

“When last month?”

“I don’t know!” He throws up his hands. “Pick a weekend. Let’s say I brought you as my date to a faculty function, and… I confessed.” He pauses, then adds, “That makes it sound like I was harboring secret feelings for you the entire length of my relationship.”

“You mean… like your former girlfriend harbored for your brother?”

“Fair point.”

“I still don’t know how you’re okay with all that.”

Seokjin exhales and sits on the bed – avoiding the bra. “I don’t know that I am,” he admits. “Otherwise, I would’ve corrected my family in the group chat – right?”

“Right,” you echo, although something about his tone gives you pause.

He falls back on the mattress. “Right,” he says, speaking to the ceiling. “So, we have the whole ‘how did this happen’ question down. And how long – we’ve been dating for a month. What about the rest?”

“You mean, where am I staying this week?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, Seokjin peers at you down his torso. “I can figure something out if you want. We can move to the joined rooms down the hall. They have a terrible view,” he muses. “But I can say this room had a draft, or something. That way you can go to the other room at night, and –”

“Seokjin. I don’t mind staying here.”

He hesitates. “You don’t?”

“No. I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve shared a room. Or have you forgotten the backpacking trip?”

A devious smile crosses his face. “How could I forget? Remember when you booked us a room in someone else’s house?”

“That wasn’t my fault!” you insist. “I swear, the listing changed after I booked. Anyways, Rodolfo was very nice.”

“He asked you out twice,” Seokjin says flatly.

“Can you blame him?”

He pauses, then tilts his head. “No.”

Finding yourself in unfamiliar territory, you blink. Then it occurs to you Seokjin is probably flirting with you for practice. That way, it seems genuine in front of his family. Satisfied, you resume pulling things from your suitcase.

“Um, right,” you say. “But that just proves my point. This isn’t the first time we’ve shared a room.”

“Yes, but…” Seokjin waves a hand at the mattress.

Oh. Right – that.

The room, despite its size, has only one bed. Granted, the bed is King-sized, so there’s enough room for you both, but still. While the two of you have shared a room several times over the years, never a bed.

“Okay.” You frown. “That’s fine – I can sleep on the floor. Or on the couch.”

Seokjin gives you a wry look. “Y/N. I got us into this situation. The least I can do is sleep on the couch.”

“Will you even fit? You’re not as young as you once were.”

“Ouch.” Seokjin huffs a laugh, massaging his chest with one hand. Annoyingly, your gaze follows the motion. “I didn’t realize this week would include personal roasting sessions. Are you trying to tear down my self-confidence, Y/N?”

“As though anything I said could make a dent in that.”

Something about this seems to amuse him, but Seokjin says nothing. Pushing himself to stand, he claps both hands together. “We can figure that out later. For now, we’ve established you’ll stay here. In my room,” he adds.

“Fine,” you say, standing with an armful of clothes. “You may need to grab some more hangers, though. These dresses can’t wrinkle.”

Bowing extravagantly, Seokjin backs away. “Your wish is my command,” he declares, continuing the bit as he enters the hall. “And Y/N?” he adds, straightening.

You look over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

Seokjin watches you seriously, his expression at odds with his usual humor. “Thanks,” he says, quiet.

A shiver goes through you. “You’re welcome.”

He nods and disappears. Left alone with your stuff, you stare at the suitcase, heart pounding. So much for self-preservation. No matter how badly you insist that you’re fine, that your feelings are over, look where you are.

At the Kim family lake house, surrounded by memories and the people who haunt them. A cold sense of foreboding steals over you. With so many secrets to hide, so many years of pushing feelings down, you can’t help the feeling that something will drop.

You can only hope you survive the aftermath.

One thing you did not miss about the Kim’s is their shared love of hiking. Even Seohyun, usually your partner in crime, has changed into athleisurewear so expensive, you don’t know the label. Soon after you and Seokjin unpack, Mrs. Kim suggests a walk to ‘work up an appetite’ before dinner.

Having been on many Kim family vacations, you know a ‘walk’ can mean anything from a paved path to bouldering. Accordingly, you shove your feet into sneakers and tie a sweatshirt around your waist. Your preparation pays off when the family town cars drop you off at a local trail head. Now, you find yourself huffing and puffing up a hill that on paper shouldn’t exist in the Midwest.

“Ugh,” huffs Seohyun, trekking alongside you. “I’ve been so busy with work I’ve barely hiked the past year. Which is dumb, because Seoul is literally in the mountains. I’m so out of shape.”

“Same,” you agree. “Although not because of work – it’s because I hate hiking.”

Seohyun laughs, ponytail bobbing. “I missed having you on these things. Emilia loves hiking,” she adds, lowering her voice. “And working out. She even goes running before breakfast – on purpose! Vile.”

“I mean, so does Seokjin,” you point out.

“Exactly!” Seohyun sounds triumphant. “Seokjin and Emilia are too similar. It’s why they were doomed. You can’t date yourself in a different font, Y/N. It’s boring.”

Curious, you glance over at Seokjin. He hikes beside his mom in the middle, discussing his research and her latest project. You had never considered him and Emilia in that light before. Instead, you thought their similarities were a sign of compatibility. Now that you think about it though, Seokjin never confided in you about their relationship.

While you watch, Seokjin runs a hand through his hair. His face is truly unfair – concrete proof that god has their favorites. No way should one person be that good-looking and able to carry a conversation.

Seohyun groans beside you. “Okay, I take it all back. This might be worse than having to race Emilia up a mountain. You and Seokjin are sickening.”

Gaze jerking forward, you feel your face feat. Ironically, you weren’t even thinking about the faux relationship just now. That was just your expression looking at Seokjin. If it helps to sell this nonsense, you suppose it’s a good thing. So long as Seokjin doesn’t suspect your feelings are true.

You can’t keep your thoughts from drifting towards once this week is over. After you leave the lake house and return to the city – what then? Seokjin will have to tell his family something. Will he tell them you broke up? Either way, it seems like your relationship is about to change, and you aren’t sure if that’s good.

Returning to Seohyun, you force a smile. “Hey, at least you’re not the worst hiker here anymore. Count your blessings.”

Someone beside you chuckles. “You’re definitely not the worst, Y/N,” says Emilia, pulling her backpack around to unzip.

Both you and Seohyun jump. Exchanging a swift glance, you wonder how long Emilia has been within hearing distance. Luckily, you didn’t say anything too bad… you think.

Emilia doesn’t let anything show on her face, taking a large sip of water. “The first time I went hiking with Jaesuk, I sprained my ankle and had to hop all the way to the car.”

Jaesuk catches up on her other side. “Excuse me,” he jokes. “If I remember correctly, I carried you most of the way. You only hopped in the parking lot.”

Emilia blinks at him innocently, and Jaesuk laughs. Seohyun ignores them both, taking a long sip of her water. Taking pity on them, you jump in.

“You still agreed to a hiking date,” you say. “In winter. That makes you automatically better than me, I think.”

Seokjin turns around and hikes backwards. “Y/N’s not wrong,” he calls back. “Remember the first time we went hiking in high school?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Mr. Kim cranes his head around at the front. “Y/N, didn’t I end up taking you to the emergency room?’

Seohyun hoots with laughter and your face burns. “I don’t think it was that–”

“You did! Seokjin insisted,” says Mrs. Kim, smiling at her son. “You said you were fine, Y/N, but Seokjin would have none of it. He pulled up WebMD and read you possible maladies until you gave in.”

Choosing not to respond, you glance at Seokjin. You remember that day very differently. Seokjin was concerned, yes, but he would have done the same for anyone. His reaction had nothing to do with feelings for you, which seems to be what his family is implying.

You aren’t the only one thinking that. Emilia’s gaze darts between Mrs. Kim and Seokjin, a small frown on her face.

“I was fine,” you say, steering the conversation away. “Seokjin overreacted.”

Seokjin slows to hike alongside you. “You had a hairline fracture! You were in that boot for months – remember? You got out of running the mile twice.”

“I was in the boot for a month.”

“They always bickered like this,” says his mom fondly. “We should have realized.”

Seohyun squints your way. “Mm. I always suspected they were more than platonic. Come on – a euro trip? As friends?”

“Seohyun,” Seokjin says, a warning clear in his voice. At the same time, you blurt out, “It was platonic.”

Several heads turn in your direction. Realizing you made a mistake, you backtrack. “I mean,” you hasten, “feelings came… later.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Seohyun nods.

“Anyways.” Jaesuk places his hand on Emilia’s back. “You’re a better hiker than you think, Y/N. You made it up sweat mountain, remember?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan while Seokjin cackles.

Sweat mountain is an aptly named monstrosity Seokjin convinced you to hike while in college. You thought the name was merely a metaphor, but it was the mountain’s actual name. All you can assume is so many people collapsed from heat stroke mid-trail that they decided to leave the name as a warning.

“Today feels like sweat mountain,” Seohyun gripes. “How much further until the parking lot?”

“You’re being dramatic.” Mrs. Kim hikes past her. “This is only a three-mile walk! The parking lot is just around that curve.”

Like the traitor she is, Seohyun picks up her pace. Admittedly, today is the perfect day for hiking. The temperature is cool enough to avoid sweat, but warm enough your sweatshirt has stayed around your waist. It’s not their fault you abhor physical exercise that doesn’t end with a treat.

As though reading your mind, Seokjin pulls a protein bar from his pocket. “Hungry?”

“I’m fine,” you grumble, but – after a moment – take the bar. “Thanks.”

Seokjin watches you unwrap it and stuff half in your mouth. His lips twitch. “I’m sorry about this, by the way. I did try to offer an out at the house.”

Jaw dropping, you remember too late about the half-chewed protein bar. “Um, excuse me,” you cough, trying to swallow. “What you said was ‘Y/N might be too tired to come.’ What kind of excuse is that?” you demand, turning around to watch him as you hike. “It makes it sound like I hold you back.”

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “They never would have accepted that I was too tired. Mom would’ve said, ‘the fresh air will invigorate you,” he quotes in an uncanny imitation of Mrs. Kim. “As a guest, you have immunity. My mom would’ve allowed it.”

“Well…” You stuff the rest of the bar in your mouth. “Oo sh’o’d’ve said ‘at ‘efore we went ‘own’airs.”

“I didn’t know that we were– Y/N!”

Your sneaker hits a rock, ankle twisting as Seokjin darts forward. For a moment, you flail wildly before collapsing.

“Oof,” you grunt, your palms hitting the dirt. The jolt rattles enough that you wince, pride smarting as much as your hands.

“Y/N.” Seokjin drops to one knee. His hands pat your arms, gentle while checking you over. When you wince, his face darkens. “Are you hurt?”

You admit he plays the caring boyfriend card well. You see why Emilia fell for him in the first place.

“N-no,” you stutter, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

Luckily, the rest of his family is too far ahead to see. It would have been doubly awful to have Seokjin’s perfect ex bear witness to your humiliation.

Turning your palms over in his, Seokjin slides both hands to your elbows. “Can you stand?” he asks, pulling you up. “Test your weight on your ankle.”

“My ankle is fine,” you grumble, but oblige.

Slowly, you place weight on your leg and although it feels fine, you notice your leggings are ripped. Your knee is bleeding, but otherwise you seem okay. Noticing the blood, Seokjin’s frown deepens.

Shifting to stand before you, he lowers himself again to his knee. “Hop on,” Seokjin says, glancing over his shoulder.

You stare down at him, open-mouthed. “Huh?”

“Hop on.” Seokjin pats his back. “How else are you going to get to the car?”

“With my… feet?”

He scowls. “You’re bleeding, Y/N. And your palms are all scratched up. There’s a first aid kit in the backseat – I can clean you up there.”

Ignoring how your stomach flutters, you gingerly bend and loop both arms around his neck. Seokjin pushes himself upward, gathering your legs and walking forward. Your nose ends up near his neck, breathing his clean, masculine scent.

Lift is unfair. It’s all too easy to imagine this day in different circumstances. To imagine Seokjin taking care of you, being there for you as your boyfriend. Shifting closer, you close your eyes and enjoy the warmth.

The daydream ends when you exit the forest.

Seeing you, Mrs. Kim drops her backpack. “Y/N!” she gasps, rushing forward. “What happened?”

Capping her water bottle, Seohyun seems caught between fear and amusement. “How… we were just talking about hiking accidents!”

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Emilia declares. She disappears around the side of one car.

You stifle the urge to bury your face in Seokjin’s shoulder. “I’m fine,” you say as he comes to a stop. “Really.”

Marching to the trunk of one car, Seokjin turns around to set you on the edge. Kneeling before you, he removes your sneaker and peels your legging upward.

“Here you go.” Emilia appears, a first aid kit in hand.

Seokjin accepts this without comment. Over his shoulder you mouth, thank you, to her. Smiling fleetingly, Emilia retreats to stand beside Jaesuk. Mr. Kim shoos everyone away to give you some privacy.

Removing a water bottle from his backpack, Seokjin pours this over your knee. You hiss and jerk back.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, soothing your calf with his thumb. “This’ll sting.”

“A little late,” you complain, but the barb is half-hearted.

Gripping the edge of the trunk, you watch Seokjin clean your skin with a damp cotton ball. The pain soon dulls, replaced with soft pressure of his hand on your leg. Seokjin bends closer, his breath warm while blowing dirt away from the wound.

Looking upward, Seokjin pauses at whatever he sees on your face. A beat passes, then two, until he withdraws.

“That should be good enough until we get home.”

Dazed, you blink. “Oh. Right. Thanks.”

Seokjin stands, watching you roll down your legging and slip on your sneaker. When you wince, he offers an arm and helps you towards the car. George holds the door open, shutting it behind you to move to the driver’s seat.

Seohyun hooks up her phone, glancing over her shoulder from the passenger seat. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she says miserably. “I feel like I caused this.”

Confused, you buckle your seat belt. “Oh? Did you place a rock directly on the trail behind me?”

“No, but I was going on and on about accidents, and –”

“It wasn’t your fault,” says Seokjin, entering from the other side. He shuts the door. “But if you waste more time sitting here, it will be your fault if Y/N gets gangrene.”

“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous,” you complain. “I’m not even bleeding.”

George places the car into drive and Seohyun rolls her eyes. “Mom was right. Seokjin has always been way too protective for his feelings to be anything but romantic.”

Choosing to stay silent, you look out the window. In its reflection, you catch sight of Seokjin watching you from the next seat. Unbidden, your heart skips a beat.

For a moment, you consider what everyone has been saying. You remember the day you broke your foot in high school. You remember it clearly, because it was the first night you dreamed of Seokjin. Before that, he was just a friend.

After …

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, the way he insisted on getting you help. It was the first step down a long path of falling in love with him.

And a small, tiny voice whispers that maybe – just maybe – his mom and sister have a point. Maybe they saw things that day that went over your head. As soon as you think this though, you dismiss it. Obviously, Mrs. Kim says now it was fate. It’s confirmation bias, since she thinks you and Seokjin are currently dating.

And yet, you continue to watch Seokjin in the window’s reflection. The sting of your knee has receded, but the prospect of him feeling nothing for you is somehow the worse wound.

By dinnertime, it’s a struggle to keep your eyes open. The morning latte was ages ago, and the glass of wine after hiking doesn’t help. Once the last course at dinner clears, you stifle another yawn and Seohyun catches your eye.

“Y/N, will you please go to bed?” she says, dropping her fork. “You’re making me tired.”

Immediately, you straighten. “I’m fine!”

“Mom.” Seokjin politely removes his napkin from his lap. “What are the plans for tonight?”

Mrs. Kim takes a sip of her port. “Nothing, really. I think your dad wanted to watch that new action movie.”

Mr. Kim grunts in agreement.

“The one we saw in theatres last fall?” asks Jaesuk. “That was a good one.”

“I’ve been wanting to watch,” Emilia adds.

Seohyun shrugs. “I guess I can join, too.”

“Great.” Pushing his chair back, Seokjin takes your hand. “Y/N and I are wiped. We’re going to bed.”

“Hey!” Seohyun gasps. “You tricked us.”

“Get some sleep,” calls Mrs. Kim.

Seokjin leads you from the dining room, dropping a kiss to his mom’s hair as he passes. His other hand remains in yours, pulling you through the foyer and up the staircase.

“Was I that obvious?” you ask, sheepish.

Seokjin does a double take at you. “Oh, you mean – was your yawning that obvious? Yes, Y/N. Pretty sure the space station will message any second about the morse code.”

“Message them back and tell them no one watches for free. Not even astronauts.”

“W-ow. You run a tight ship, Y/N.”

“It’s called knowing your self-worth,” you sniff, following him down the hall. “You should try it.”

“I do know my self-worth. If you’d like, we can Google it right now – hey-o!” Seokjin cries, holding up a hand for you to high five.

Ignoring him, you walk into the room. Seokjin chuckles and follows, shutting the door behind you. Holding the vanity, you bend and undo a shoe strap. You’ll never forget the first time you visited – Mrs. Kim asked you to leave your shoes in the hall overnight. You were confused before learning the staff clean their shoes every day so they can wear them to dinner.

Fumbling with the clasp, you kick helplessly and hope the shoe gives up before you do.

“Hang on,” Seokjin sighs. Again, he kneels before you – this is becoming a habit. “Put your foot on my knee.”

You stare as though he’s grown a second head. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you take off your shoes. I thought that was obvious.” He pats his thigh. “Put your foot here.”

Unable to summon the energy to fight, you lift your foot. If Seokjin is surprised by your obedience, he does a good job of hiding it. Bending, he delicately undoes the clasp of your shoe. Dark hair falls in his face while he works.

Seokjin hesitates, one hand on your ankle. He looks up. “I really am sorry about all of this, Y/N.”

Your heart thumps, and it takes a second longer for your brain to catch up.

His lips twist. “First, I lied to you. Then, I asked you to lie to my family. And now… you’re hurt because of me.” He looks down. “This was an awful idea, and I’m just… sorry, Y/N. Say the word and I’ll drive you home. I’ll explain everything to my family. No matter how awkward.”

“Hey,” you murmur. Reaching down, you pull Seokjin upward to stand.

Seokjin towers over you, looking slightly pathetic.

“It’s okay,” you say gently. “Really. Am I thrilled by some of your choices? No. Definitely not. But do I understand?” Slowly, you exhale. “Yeah. I unfortunately do.”

He seems to war with something internally but nods. “That’s because you’re a saint.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Seokjin chuckles, and you smile. “Besides,” you say, holding up both palms. “I’m fine. Barely a scratch from earlier – see?”

Taking your hand, he studies your palm longer than medically necessary. “So…” He looks at you. “What does this mean, Y/N? Are you saying you’ll stay the week, or…?”

“Will I stay here and pretend that we’re dating? Sure.”

Seokjin groans and tips his head back. “God. That sounds so sad.”

Laughing, you take a step closer. Reaching for him, you slide both hands into his hair and lower his face. His lashes flutter, staring down at you.

“Don’t worry,” you say quietly. “I could never think less of you, Seokjin Kim.”

His throat works as he swallows. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

“No – I really don’t.”

Dropping your hands, you step backwards. Shakily, you inhale and try to forget the feeling of his skin beneath your palms.

“So,” you say. “We have a full week of couple activities ahead.”

Seokjin nods, and you fall into the rhythm of unpacking. Moving around the room, you ask what he’s been up to lately and let Seokjin chatter about work. The events of today crash over you without warning, leaving you emotionally and physically drained.

This is probably why you accept so fast when he offers to take the couch. Grabbing your pajamas, you lock yourself in the bathroom to wash your face. When you emerge, you all but leap into the giant bed.

Seokjin disappears into the bathroom soon after, and you struggle to stay awake. Sometime after the shower starts though, you drift off, falling asleep before he can return.

A cacophony greets you the next morning. People call the city noisy, but those sounds you’re used to. What you’re not used to is the sound of two birds having a full-blown tiff outside your window. In response, you roll over and stick your head beneath a pillow.

Easy to do since you have the bed to yourself. Realizing this, you slowly peer out from under the pillow at the couch.

Empty.

Unease pricks your stomach. Seokjin did sleep here last night – didn’t he? As soon as you think this, you notice the mussed blanket and pillow. Okay, so he slept here at some point, even if he’s gone now.

Rolling onto your back, you unplug your phone from the wall. 8:04 AM. After ten minutes of scrolling, you manage to push yourself into a seated position. Eventually, nature calls loud enough that you roll from bed. With face washed and teeth brushed, you feel marginally ready to start the day.

The couch is still empty. Frowning, you walk towards the window and pull back the curtain. Seokjin could have gone on a run – or maybe, chimes a little voice in your head, he realized how silly this is and went to tell everyone the truth. Maybe he went to confess his feelings to Emilia. Maybe Jaesuk and Seokjin went to go duel before dawn.

Releasing the curtain, you head for the shower. This is why you don’t talk to people before coffee. Stepping under the spray, you tilt your head and let hot water sluice down your back. Despite your best efforts, the shower unfortunately proves a great place to overthink.

Again and again, you rehash the events of yesterday. The look on Seokjin’s face when his mom said you were dating. Hise expression asking you to stay. The way he looked while dabbing your knee with a cotton ball. For so long, you’ve survived by shoving your feelings aside. It’s been a long time since you considered what Seokjin felt for you.

Twenty years of history point you towards nothing. But then, you’ve had feelings for him just as long and never told him. Sighing, you finish washing and step from the shower. The safest course of action is to do nothing and yet, the thought leaves an itch in your brain.

Again, you remind yourself, all you can do is take his words at face value. Seokjin asked you to be his fake girlfriend, not his real one. That’s all this is. Anything more leads to a slippery slope you might not return from.

Wiping steam from the mirror, you realize you left your clothes in the other room. Wrapping a towel around your torso, you crack open the door.

Holy fuck.

Seokjin has returned. Well, that much is obvious because he’s standing in the middle of the room dressed in navy sweats and… nothing else.

Mouth dry, you watch him bop along to a song on his ear pods. You try – and fail – not to gape at the way his shoulders narrow to the sharp v of his waist. The last guy you hooked up with was a definite gym rat, full of muscles made mainly for show. Seokjin is hot without trying. His biceps flex when he grabs a t-shirt, frowning into the mirror – and meeting your gaze.

“Ahh!” Seokjin yells, the t-shirt whipping away as he turns.

“Ahh!” you return, stumbling backwards. Clutching your towel, you nearly trip over a different t-shirt lying on the floor.

Seokjin braces himself on the wardrobe. “WHAT ARE – hang on, shit,” he swears, yanking out his air pods. “You’re, uh – Y/N. You’re here?”

“Yep,” you say, your voice way too high. “I was in the shower,” you add, jerking a thumb over your shoulder.

Seokjin follows the gesture, only to snag on your body. Too late you remember you’re in only a towel. Before now, this fact seems to have eluded him. Seokjin openly stares, not bothering to hide his appraisal. Heat trails each place his gaze lingers until the bird argument outside resumes – this time, at twice the volume.

The spell breaks. “Sorry,” you blurt, rushing to grab your clothes. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I – I wasn’t. I was on a run.”

“Okay,” you squeak, edging around him. Slamming the door shut, you collapse against it. “Fuck,” you hiss.

On the other side, you hear Seokjin utter the same. Eyes wide, you turn your head to stare at the wood.

Coincidence. Or he was swearing because of how awkward that was, not because he was also struck dumb by the sight of you mostly naked. Right?

Your head hits the door with a thunk. You should have taken Seokjin up on his offer to drive you home yesterday. Not even one day has passed and you’re already overthinking this. Worse, you can’t stop rehashing the events of last year. Seokjin never answered your question about why he hasn’t reached out to you since December.

Suddenly, you still as realization dawns. Seokjin and Emilia broke up in December. You know they were still together on his birthday, which means they broke up after.

What if… Emilia saw you in that hallway? What if she broke up with Seokjin because she suspected something between you? That would make her the victim. Granted, she didn’t have to go and date Seokjin’s brother, but it would explain her discomfort around you. It would explain why she seems to flinch at every mention of your shared past with Seokjin.

If that’s true, then it means their breakup was partly your fault. Of course, you know this wouldn’t be your fault alone. If their relationship had been solid, it could have withstood a moment of jealousy. Still, the thought lingers as you get dressed, entering the bedroom to find Seokjin has gone.

You continue to think about this during breakfast, watching the way Emilia interacts with the rest. By the end of the meal, you’ve learned nothing certain. If anything, you find yourself reaching the conclusion that whatever the truth is, it doesn’t matter. Not when what’s done is done.

Seokjin and Emilia are no longer dating. Now, she’s with Jaesuk. And you’re here to provide Seokjin platonic support.

Nothing about this has changed, so you need to concentrate on the task at hand. Something you can do, even if the cost is one you pay in your own heartache.

Mrs. Kim passes out individual itineraries after breakfast, resulting in a swift wave of nostalgia. Your own family would fit in well with Jimin’s friends, planning everything the day of and flying by the seat of their pants. Kim family vacations were a dream come true for you growing up, since Mr. and Mrs. Kim always had things under control.

Mr. Kim may have been the one born into money, but Mrs. Kim is no shrinking violet. Her mother raised her by herself; Mrs. Kim finished law school while working odd jobs, eventually rising to the rank of Chief Legal Officer at the Kim Corporation. It was something of a scandal when she announced she and Mr. Kim had wed, and she would be transitioning to the non-profit sector. One time at dinner, she confided in you with a wink this had been her goal from the start.

The entire week is planned down to the minute, with ‘free time’ scheduled for several days. Seokjin stares in dismay at all the events he’s been signed up for until you gently take his paper and fold it in yours.

Today is simple enough: the local farmer’s market, then lunch. Dinner tonight is just family, but tomorrow you’ll be joined by dinner guests. Thursday is a cocktail party, and then Saturday evening is the main event. You notice the Astors listed only for Saturday, which eases some of your tension.

“I’ll drive Y/N and I,” Seokjin says once breakfast is over. Standing, he scoops a pair of keys from the bowl. “We’ll meet the rest of you there.”

Seohyun waves from the coffee pot, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. When Emilia enters with Jaesuk, Seoyun pointedly turns around and brings her coffee to the porch.

Noticing, you can’t help your guilty conscience. “Seohyun seems mad,” you remark to Seokjin as you climb the stairs.

Seokjin glances at the back porch. His lips thin. “Yeah. I think… the situation feels more personal for her. One of her friends dated an ex back in college, and it led to a lot of drama. I don’t think they stayed friends, so she feels bad for me.”

“Oh,” you murmur. You, too, lost a friend during college when she slept with your boyfriend. “I get that. In some ways, losing a friend is harder.”

As you enter the room, Seokjin opens the closet. “I don’t need her pity, though,” he calls from inside. “I’m fine with the situation. And besides, it’s not the same.”

“Is it not?”

“No!”

Wisely choosing to stay silent on the matter, you sit on the sofa and wait for him to change. Seokjin appears a moment later in a cream shirt and slacks, a jean jacket in hand. Well, fuck you, too, then.

Seokjin pauses, squinting at himself in the mirror. “It’s not,” he continues. “Seohyun was still in love with her ex. I’m not.”

Your brows shoot upward. “Oh, no? This whooole situation” – you wave a hand – “would beg to differ.”

Seokjin meets your gaze in the mirror. “It’s not the same. I don’t… think Emilia and I were ever really in love.”

You take a moment to digest this. “Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”

His expression tightens. “Do you really think someone in love with me could have fallen so fast for Jaesuk? Do you think I could have–” Abruptly, he cuts himself off.

Curious, you stare, but he doesn’t continue. Searching for a way to prod without being obvious, you inhale and a door slams downstairs.

“Y/N! Seokjin!” Jaesuk calls up. “We’re heading out!”

Jolted into motion, Seokjin pulls on his coat. “Coming!” he calls. To you, he murmurs, “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Mind reeling, you follow him down the stairs. You didn’t imagine it, did you – the way Seokjin seemed on the verge of saying something important?

And what about the other thing he just said – that he never loved Emilia? Frustration chokes the many emotions roiling within you. That was the only thing about this week which made sense. If Seokjin still was in love with Emilia, it would make sense why you’re here. It would make sense why he said nothing when his family assumed you were dating.

It would not make sense if he did all those things and is over his ex. If… Seokjin doesn’t love Emilia and never did.

By the time you reach the car, you’ve decided against calling Seokjin out. Instead, you’ve delusionally convinced yourself nothing between you has changed. You agreed to stay this week and pretend to be dating. The why doesn’t matter.

Except – what if it does?

Pushing away the thought, you buckle your seatbelt and realize Seokjin has taken this time to commandeer the stereo. A playlist called Reel Love blares, comprised of songs about love and fishing.

You shoot Seokjin a look, and he bites down on his lip to keep from laughing. For now, you tell yourself it’s enough to have your friend again. Concentrating on this fact, you lean your head to the window and watch the scenery pass.

Rumbling into town, you find yourself in desperate need of some fresh air. Seokjin has the type of presence which grows to fit whatever container he rests in. A gaseous human, if you will. Stepping from the car, you take several breaths to wash away the after-effects of proximity.

Closing the door, you survey the town. Bear’s Nook is sleepy during the edge seasons, dead in the winter, and vibrant in summer, like so many towns along the lakeshore. Right now, it’s starting to wake up, but crowds won’t show up in full force until June.

Only the locals and families like Seokjin’s arrive this time of year. People mosey in and out of the storefronts, although the main farmer’s market is in a warehouse on Main Street. George seems to be sticking around, dropping the rest of the family off in front of the market.

Seohyun shivers in short sleeves, woefully unprepared. “Race you,” she blurts, darting for the entrance.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Kim takes her husband’s arm. The entire group moves down the sidewalk, entering the market in a loose line. Stalls stretch the length of the warehouse full of fruits, vegetables, and all the craft goods you could want.

Seokjin and Mr. Kim drift towards a fishing table, and Seohyun calls her mom over to a produce stand. Despite most of the cooking being done by the staff, Mrs. Kim still enjoys preparing a few dishes each week. You drift past them both, unsure what you’re looking for as you start to wander.

At the end of the next row, your phone buzzes. Fishing it from your purse, you see Jimin’s name. Frowning, you swipe.

Jimin: how long did it take for Seokjin to ask if we were dating [10:20 AM]

Jimin: on a scale of one (first thing he asked) to ten (still hasn’t) [10:21 AM]

Coming to a stop at a candle stand, you text back.

Y/N: You little sneak [10:22 AM]

Y/N: …about a minute in [10:22 AM]

Jimin: HA [10:23 AM]

Jimin: knew it [10:23 AM]

Y/N: You knew what? [10:23 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, please. It’s obvious that man has feelings for you [10:23 AM]

Y/N: Jimin, noooo [10:24 AM]

Y/N: You saw him for ten seconds [10:24 AM]

Y/N: It’s not like that, I promise [10:24 AM]

Y/N: Believe me [10:24 AM]

Jimin: …. [10:25 AM]

Jimin: no [10:25 AM]

You’re frantically typing something to the effect of that’s not how friendship works when you notice someone hovering nearby. Glancing from your phone, you realize Emilia is watching from a coffee stand. Meeting your gaze, she smiles and waves you over.

After a moment’s hesitation, you return your phone to your pocket. Reluctantly joining the line, you pretend to study the coffee board.

“So.” Emilia exhales, glancing sideways. “This is awkward, right?”

Startled, you face her. While Emilia continues to smile, you can see the forced tightness around her eyes.

“Well…” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to call it out, but since you mention it…”

She laughs, the sound bright. When she and Seokjin started dating, you thought her laugh was fake, but no – that’s just how she sounds. You suppose if you had been brought up with a silver spoon in your mouth, you might also laugh like a Disney princess.

Immediately, you deflate. You shouldn’t be mean to her. But then again, the last time you checked, there were no guidelines about how to act with the girlfriend of your fake boyfriend’s brother, who used to date your fake boyfriend.

Seokjin is right. Saying it out loud is just sad.

“Did you… know I met Jaesuk before Seokjin?”

That captures your attention.

You blink. “No. I didn’t know that.”

She nods, lost in thought. “He was a counselor at my summer camp. I was seventeen and Jaesuk was in college, so of course, nothing happened.” A soft laugh. “He barely even noticed my existence.”

“Ah.”

The line moves forward, and you take a small step.

Emilia isn’t done. “We had this moment, though… at the end of the summer. My camp boyfriend broke up with me for Jennie Sarasota. Jaesuk found me crying behind the kayaks and told me I was too good for that idiot. It was the first time a man said that to me,” she says. “My dad is a traditional guy. He’s… well, he’s not very nice.”

Again, the line moves. Stopping closer to the kiosk, you face Emilia fully. “Why are you telling me this?” you ask. “Is this… some kind of explanation for why you cheated on Seokjin?”

Emilia’s eyes widen, and her gaze darts around. People from their world always worry about who might overhear. To be fair, you did just say the quiet part out loud.

“Y/N,” she whispers. “I didn’t cheat on Seokjin. And that’s not what I was trying to tell you.” Her face scrunches. “What I felt for Jaesuk at camp wasn’t real. It was a childish crush on a guy I didn’t know.”

“So…”

“So,” she huffs. “I’m trying to say that when I met Seokjin, I didn’t know he was related to Jaesuk. The last name Kim is pretty common.”

“Mm.” Another person pays, and the line moves again. “And then, once you realized who Jaesuk was…?”

Emilia is silent. Eventually, she exhales. “The first time I met Jaesuk was the night of Seokjin’s birthday party. Do you remember that?”

It feels like a trick question, so you simply nod.

“Yeah,” Emilia murmurs, also lost in thought. “Seokjin had mentioned him before, but Jaesuk was always working or too busy to meet. When he walked through the door, I was stunned. And then… well, I decided to put him from my mind.”

“Mhm.”

Her lips flatten. “It’s true.”

The final person orders and leaves, leaving the two of you. Stepping up to the register, you order your usual iced latte and move to the end. Emilia follows, hitching her Birkin bag up her arm.

“All I’m saying,” she continues, determined, and you fight back an eye roll. “Is that I can understand how it happened. Thinking you felt one way for someone, only to realize you felt another.”

Sharply, you look at her.

Emilia stares back at you, unflinching, and you have to hand it to her, she doesn’t back down. Again, you consider Seokjin’s confession. This is about more than just Emilia dating Jaesuk. Human beings are complicated, and feelings are never clean-cut. Just because Emilia is with Jaesuk and seems happy doesn’t mean she’s enjoying the idea of you dating Seokjin.

Still, any way you respond would be tinged with bitterness, so you merely shrug. “I guess.”

The barista finishes your coffee and places it on the counter. Accepting this, you turn, intending to leave but Emilia stops you again.

“You know,” she says lowly. “I always suspected Seokjin had feelings for you.”

Her words are like being doused in cold water. Protestations rise to your lips like no, he doesn’t and sounds like projection, but you say nothing. Because based on what Emilia knows, she’s correct.

“Even before his birthday,” she says, her grip tight on her coffee. “I knew it was more than just friendship.”

“If you say so.”

“People talk about their friends. But Seokjin never talked about you. Ever. He was so, so careful to keep you separate.”

This does surprise you, but you can’t afford to react.

“I’m not bitter,” she adds, and you know she thinks that's true. “If anything, I think this might be fate. Right?” To her credit, her voice softens. “Jaesuk and I met so long ago, and now we’ve reconnected. Meanwhile, Seokjin has wanted you for so long, and now he finally has you. Maybe… oh, I don’t know. Maybe things had to happen this way for us to be happy.”

By now, you’re practically vibrating with suppressed anger. You hate when people imply that bad things happen for a reason. Sometimes that’s true but oftentimes, it’s an excuse for the speaker to pass on accountability. Whirling around, you step closer and feel a perverse sense of satisfaction when Emilia’s eyes widen.

“No,” you spit out. “I don’t think things had to be this way. I don’t think the fact that Seokjin and I are dating cancels out the fact that you’re now dating his brother. I don’t think any of this absolves you of what – of guilt? Is that what you want?”

Emilia’s face flushes. “No!”

“It doesn’t matter if Seokjin felt something for me. He chose you. He wanted you. Everything you just said is pointless because Seokjin wanted you to be his girlfriend. And you left him for Jaesuk. It’s crappy that you’re blaming the breakup on something he never even said that he wanted!”

Her mouth opens, intending to respond, but you decide you don’t care. Everything you’ve repressed bubbles upward, and you no longer trust yourself to have this conversation without saying something hurtful. Taking a page out of Seohyun’s book, you turn on your heel and push into the crowd.

Either you walk fast enough to lose her, or Emilia doesn’t follow. The crowd breaks after a while and you stop at the last stall, sagging against the counter. It takes several moments for your pulse to steady.

Although you meant what you said, it probably wasn’t the best way to deal with Emilia. A sigh leaves you. While you understand where she’s coming from, her pretending everything is fine isn’t helpful. The events of the past year caused a lot of hurt – you witnessed this firsthand.

Oddly enough though, you feel lighter. Devastating, to realize your therapist is right, and ignoring your emotions doesn’t make them go away. Granted, you didn’t need to explode on Emilia the way that you did. You’ll have to apologize at some point. It was infuriating, though, listening to her go on about how great things are, when you know she’s the reason Seokjin is on edge.

Footsteps sound behind you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see Seohyun approaching. “Happy my parents’ anniversary,” she sings, shoving a plastic bag into your arms. A colorful, crocheted hat spills out. “I saw this and thought of you. You and your beautiful soul.”

“Don’t you Jesse McCartney me before lunch,” you manage to laugh. Removing the hat, you shove it over your hair. “How does it look? Mesmerizing?”

Seohyun makes a face. “Only a man truly in love would find that appealing.”

As though on cue, Seokjin rounds the corner. The moment he spots you, he does a double take. Walking forward, his grin widens.

“What monstrosity is this?” Seokjin teases. Slipping a hand to either side of your face, he tips your face up to press a kiss to your forehead. “Only you would find something that clashes with literally everything.”

Somewhat stunned, you stare up at him. “I, uh…”

“I bought it for her, asshole,” sighs Seohyun. Watching the two of you, she grins and shakes her head. “What did I say, Y/N?”

Seokjin looks at her, puzzled but – thankfully – before Seohyun can explain, Mrs. Kim appears. “There’s a whole stand of oven mitts,” she says to Seohyun. “We should get a few pairs or–”

Seokjin tugs on your hand. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I want to show you something.”

Wordless, you follow him around the next corner. It hasn’t escaped your notice that his family is no longer around and yet, he still holds your hand. In fact, you’re so busy watching him, you don’t realize where you’re going until Seokjin stops.

“Ta-da!” He gestures at a wooden stall. “What do you think?”

Tearing your gaze away from him, you look at the scene.

“Oh. My. God.”

Seokjin cracks up, watching you take in the garish array of nationalism. Paintings of flags, national monuments, symbolic animals – the stand has it all, entombed in bold colors and patterns. The sight is absolutely horrific, and you’re about to say as much, when a man pops out from behind an easel.

“Are you enjoying that one?” he asks, seeing where you look. “A beauty, right? I tried to encapsulate what I felt while listening to the national anthem.”

“Right,” you croak. Seokjin seems to be holding back tears of laughter. “That’s… that’s what I thought when I saw it. The national anthem, absolutely.”

“I took inspiration from our forefathers.”

“Ah. Well… here’s hoping they don’t ask for it back.”

The artist pauses, then barks out a laugh. “Good one! I’ll have to remember that. Now, all the small paintings are three hundred, the medium ones are a thousand, and this piece” – he directs your attention to a tapestry-sized canvas – “is three thousand. My pride and joy.”

Realizing your mouth has fallen open, you shut it.

By this point, Seokjin has composed himself enough to speak. “I’ve been looking for a piece for my entryway for years,” he muses. “This speaks to me.”

You elbow him – hard – in the ribs, and Seokjin wheezes, but the man doesn’t notice.

“Good eye, sir,” he says eagerly.

When he turns around, you lean sideways. “What are you doing?” you hiss.

“Browsing,” Seokjin whispers back, his eyes alight.

“Are you really going to buy that?”

“Honestly? I’m considering it, just so it doesn’t hang in someone else’s home.”

“Stop,” you whisper-laugh, trying to school your expression. “I feel bad! This man clearly has passion for the arts –”

“And likely, the conservative party.”

“–and he put a lot of time into this!”

Seokjin shrugs. “Define a lot.”

Before you can protest further, the artist returns. Seokjin hems and haws a bit before vowing to come back tomorrow with more money.

“You’re ridiculous,” you groan when he leads you away.

Seokjin wiggles both eyebrows. “Who’s the one dating me?”

You almost correct him but look away at the last moment. “About that,” you say slowly. “Emilia… kind of cornered me earlier. She wanted to talk about us.”

Seokjin stops so abruptly you nearly walk past him. When you realize this and turn, he seems slightly nauseous.

“Did she…” He swallows. “What did she say?”

“She didn’t suspect this was… fake,” you whisper, glancing around – oh god, now you’re doing it. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Seokjin blinks, his expression inscrutable. “Oh – okay. Right. What did she want to talk about, then?”

The two of you begin walking through the stalls. Sipping your coffee, you take comfort in the familiar rush that it brings.

“She wanted to talk about how… she always thought you had feelings for me.”

“Ah.”

“I kind of went off on her.”

Seokjin looks at you, startled. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” You frown. “She was pissing me off. Going on and on about how it was all ‘meant to be.’ She said that you always liked me, and maybe that’s why things didn’t work out with you two. As though nothing was her fault. I mean, is it so hard to take some accountability? To admit that your actions have hurt people?”

Seokjin says nothing, continuing to walk alongside you. His brow is furrowed though, clearly deep in thought. You turn down an empty row of stalls – the farmer’s market is only half-full, given the season. It grants a semblance of privacy when he clears his throat.

“Y/N…” Seokjin hesitates and then stops. “What if… Emilia wasn’t wrong?”

“About what?”

“About… I don’t know. Did I ever tell you how we broke up?”

“Well, no. You just said that you did.”

Seokjin firmly meets your gaze. “I was the one who ended things.”

Time seems to slow again.

Slowly, the puzzle pieces slot themselves into place. Honestly, you aren’t sure why you didn’t realize sooner. Well, you know why. When Seokjin called you last week, he sounded upset. He sounded like he was in love with someone. You agreed to this mostly out of pity, assuming she had broken his heart. But if that’s not the case…

“Why?” you blurt.

Seokjin blinks. “Why, what?”

“Why did you break up with her?”

His gaze narrows. “Come on, Y/N,” he says, voice dropping when he takes a step closer. “Don’t you remember December?”

Your body goes still. Of course, you remember. You didn’t think that he did. Or if he did, you assumed it was something Seokjin wanted to ignore. The same way you haven’t talked about any other time you grew close.

Seeing your expression, his lips twist. “I almost kissed you that night in the bar. On my birthday.”

“I… know.”

“And you don’t think that was a red flag for my relationship?”

“We’d both been drinking,” you say, unconvinced. “It was a weird time for me. You were upset, and…”

His laugh is hollow. “That’s what I told myself at first, too. But then… I realized that even if all that was true, it wouldn’t have mattered if I loved her. So, I broke up with Emilia.”

You stare up at him, the events of the night rearranging themselves. You realize you’ve been thinking about that night all wrong. It wasn’t the night Seokjin almost kissed you, but the night he realized he didn’t love Emilia.

Before you can respond, Mr. Kim and Jaesuk walk around the corner. Emilia is right behind them, still sipping her coffee. She doesn’t meet your gaze, browsing the empty stalls instead.

“There you are,” says Jaesuk. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Mom wants to head to lunch. Are you ready to go?”

Seokjin watches you for another moment, then nods. Mrs. Kim and Seohyun meet you at the front doors, and Emilia joins them to show Mrs. Kim something. As soon as she does, Seohyun slows her pace to walk alongside you.

Noticing this, your stomach sours. Knowing what you know now, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been unfair. From Emilia’s perspective, Seokjin broke up with her and immediately asked you out. Sure, the whole Jaesuk thing is still weird, but… possibly things are more complicated than you realized.

Glancing at Seohyun, you poke her in the arm. “Hey.”

She shoves the rest of a donut into her mouth. “If you’re hoping to trade the hat, I’m sorry. No takebacks.”

“No, it’s not that. Listen, you… should ease up on Emilia.”

Seohyun shoots you a look of betrayal. “Not you and Seokjin on my case!”

“This is just from me,” you sigh. “Nothing to do with Seokjin. I just… think this whole situation is awkward and multiple people are at fault. Not just her.”

Seohyun considers. Her gaze flicks to Emilia walking with Jaesuk.

“Well,” she grumbles. “It’s hard not to be mad. She hurt Seokjin. I’m mad at Jaesuk, too,” she adds with a scowl. “He should never have even considered asking her out.”

“Maybe. But then, you should probably also be mad at Seokjin. He’s the one who broke up with Emilia.”

She pauses. “Seokjin broke up with her?”

You nod, your suspicions confirmed. As much as it pains you to admit, Emilia has been classy in this regard. She could have aired Seokjin’s business to gain sympathy but chose to stay silent.

Seohyun thinks for a moment, her face shifting. “To tell you the truth, I never liked Emilia with Seokjin,” she admits.

“Why not?”

“They just didn’t… fit. Too similar, I think. What’s weird though, is that she totally fits with Jaesuk.”

“You should ease up on her,” you repeat.

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine, Miss Morality.”

“That’s a terrible superhero name.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you be, then?”

“I know what I’d be,” Seokjin announces while joining your duo. You start, wondering how much he overheard. “Probably something like World Wide Handsome. WWH. Swooping down to save the world with –”

“Hair gel and a mirror?” Seohyun cuts in. “Because that’s what that sounds like.”

The sound of their bickering follows you into the restaurant. Every time you visit Bear’s Nook you eat at the same, cozy restaurant in the middle of downtown. Seohyun chooses the seat beside Emilia to sit in, and you note Emilia’s look of surprise when Seohyun asks her a question.

It’s easy to forget how wealthy Seokjin’s family is. If it weren’t for the lavish lake house and personal driver, today is the type of day you’d have on your own. Today marks the last time you’ll be alone, though. Small dinner parties are planned for tomorrow and Wednesday, followed by the larger cocktail party on Thursday.

Everything has moved so fast, you haven’t even considered what the rest of this week will look like. For all Seokjin’s city life revolves around academia, he’s still a part of his family’s legacy here. Emilia fit into all that – she’s an Astor, after all. You’re a no one, especially without your fancy consulting job.

Before you can spiral any further, Seokjin places a menu before you. “I asked at the front, and they said they’ll still do the pecan pancakes if you want them.”

Your stomach flips. “You… asked about my order?”

“Of course,” Seokjin says, as if it’s the only answer. “I didn’t forget.”

Something about his tone makes you think he means more than your brunch order. You try to refocus on his family but again, a single thought rises to the surface.

Seokjin broke up with Emilia. He broke up with her after he almost kissed you. And now… well now, you wonder if your main rule has been broken. Maybe not everything Seokjin says should be taken at face value.

Maybe there are things you still don’t know about him, after all.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part 2, here.

#seokjin fanfic #seokjin smut #jin fanfic #jin smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #seokjin fanfiction #jin fanfiction #seokjin fic #jin fic #bts fic

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dyellogin · 4 months ago

Text

Eltingville Club, but... Gen Z

A dumb idea I laugh at, so I draw it out. It's not big on being a "fan" like OG E.C., just annoying internet extremely online users I've encountered as a Gen Z who has been on the internet for more than a decade.

BILL DICKEY

Username : @discardedmrtyr // Bill

Favorite shit : (anime harem), politics, reading, doing reviews, internet drama, leaked content (porn, mostly), shooter games, pepe reaction images.

Occupation : Substitute teacher while in college

Blackpilled anime enthusiast and notorious troll, Bill spends his days spreading hate online while using pepe reaction images because he’s upset how soyjacks are tainted with normies. He’s a vocal critic of all things progressive. He frequently targets minorities, celebrities, and content creators. Bill finds joy in provoking outrage. He’s loves shooter games. He's a Belle Delphine supporter on Onlyfans even when she hasn't uploaded anything. At work as a substitute teacher, Bill abuses his position to indoctrinate impressionable high school students. Off work and college, he gets very active on forums like Lolcow and Kiwifarm. He actively feeds drama with his leaked/stalking finds. In his spare spare time, Bill enjoys reading fanfics and making movies and books reviews that he keeps to himself.

JOSH LEVY

Username : @IHrtSeal // @SealLover123 // Seally // J-Chan

Favorite shit : seals, art, fan content, lost media, roleplay, Harry Potter, Steven Universe, Homestuck.

Occupation : NEET

Autistic Deviantart kid, Josh is similar to Chris Chan, where he has a tendency to fall into rage baits. Josh spends a significant amount of time online since his early childhood. He’s active on Deviantart, Twitter, Tumblr, Discord, etc. Josh customizes his profiles that fit into his aesthetic. His texts are roleplay-like, dramatic, with excessive emojis+emoticons like ♥️♥️♥️(>_<!!!). Josh has a strong interest in fan-content, mainly fanart, often commissions fetish arts from various artists, he commissioned Shadman once. Josh is also prone to harassing others over OOC and selfships. He treats the internet like a safe place diary where he publicize his suicidal ideations and meltdowns. He shows unwarranted sexual behaviors towards strangers online. He is a fan-writer. He writes a lot for character wiki pages and has proship tags in his AO3 works.

PETE DINUNZIO

Username : @VmP175 // @vAMPiro // Ambrose // Leech

Favorite shit : analogue horror, gamemaker games, obscure horror games, illegal/banned medias, true crime reality

Occupation : Cashier and weed dealer

Degenerate loser, Pete accesses the dark web and those Telegram groups daily. He mainly seeks porn of anorexic girls or girls with self-harm scars (prefers it fresh). Self-proclaimed sex icon, Pete would larp as big bad hot alpha men, thirst post on TikTok, showing his muscular body while wearing classic hot men horror masks. He only replies to mentally ill girls.

Dirt poor, with a shitty laptop that can only play roblox and low-quality gamemaker games (always pirates it). Pete is a skilled coder, and he attempts to create games independently. Very huge relation, very socially active. Doxx people online. He uses a lot of AAVE (the white kid with the baggy clothes who's talking like he’s black). Pete has parasocial relationships with content creators. He will defend his favorite creators even after they’re outed as a horrible person. Groomed by a creator he looks up to when he was a kid but feigning ignorance. He does a lot of edgy jokes.

JERRY STOKES

Username : @lv8ryu // リュウ // ryuuuu!

Website : Voidspeech.net // anon

Favorite shit : art, music, memes, brainrot content, cute girls, cute things

Occupation : University student

Leads a double life, Jerry going through University as a rich nepo baby while maintaining his sona online. Jerry fakes an Asian identity. He pretends to be Japanese, using Google Translate. Jerry has an art account with a decent following, where he focuses on his passion, keeping things vanilla and drama-free. He hates seeing reposts of free palestine, blm, etc. Jerry shares his art on Twitter and Newground, usually just girls or softcore porn. Jerry runs a website called Voidspeech, where he posts NSFW political edgy weekly webcomic (and remains anonymous). Pete finds out Jerry is behind the website and manages to get in contact with him. Jerry would send memes and brainrot content in the group chat. He rarely ever talks on group voice calls. Instead, he uses his customized soundboards to show reactions or just quote one of his brainrot content. Jerry would make shitty music he laughs at and forces his friends (especially Pete) to listen via Discord voice call. would say “I get lesbians!”

Bonus (concept design)

I didn't really like Pete's design, so I redesigned his outfit.

#welcome to eltingville #the eltingville club #eltingville club #bill dickey #josh levy #pete dinunzio #jerry stokes #GZEltingville

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becertainlust · 2 months ago

Text

BIRTHDAY SUIT | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: Bakugo never made a big deal about birthdays—just another day in his book. But you're not letting this one slide. As his partner, you know better than anyone that under that explosive exterior lies a man who deserves to be worshipped. And tonight, that’s exactly what you plan to do. Dressed in nothing but a gift-wrapped surprise, you give him a present no one else ever could—you.

content: smut, shameless smut, established relationship, lingerie sex, birthday sex, reader takes the reins, blowjob, sloppy, cowgirl , orgasm,

Bakugo never cared about birthdays. For once, he'd let you celebrate him.

No grumbles, no sarcastic muttering under his breath about “dumb-ass traditions” or “waste of time.” No disappearing off to train. No flinching when his friends shouted “Happy Birthday, Katsuki!”

He actually stayed. Enjoyed it.

The apartment had been buzzing earlier with close friends, laughter, drinks, and too many snacks. But now, it was just you and him. The glow of warm lights filled the room, soft music playing low from the speaker. The scent of buttercream and spiced candles lingered in the air.

“Sit,” you said, nudging him down onto the couch.

He dropped onto it with a tired, satisfied huff, one arm slung over the backrest as he watched you crouch beside the small stack of gifts left on the coffee table.

“Ya didn’t have to do all this, y’know,” he muttered. “Just havin’ you around is—”

“Shut up,” you smirked, passing him the first box. “You can get sappy after we’re done with presents.”

He rolled his eyes, but the blush on his ears gave him away.

One by one, he opened them. A couple of gag gifts from Kaminari, a surprisingly thoughtful book from Todoroki, custom gloves from Kirishima. A shirt from you he’d side-eyed in a store window a few weeks ago but pretended not to like. He’d mumbled, “Not bad,” when he saw it then—but the way he smiled when he saw it again tonight? That soft, flickering look in his eyes?

Yeah. He remembered.

But the last gift made him still.

He turned the box in his hand like he didn’t quite recognize it, even though you knew he did. You watched his fingers move slower—more careful. He lifted the lid and saw it:

A first edition, limited-run All Might training journal.

Something he’d mentioned in passing once during a midnight walk months ago. Something he said he always wanted but could never find. He stared at it in silence, thumb brushing over the embossed edges.

“…You remembered that?” he asked, voice suddenly quieter. His eyes lifted to yours.

You smiled gently. “Of course I did.”

Bakugo swallowed hard, cheeks warming up in a way that had your heart blooming in your chest. “You’re insane,” he muttered. “You know that?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “A little.”

He blinked hard, then cleared his throat.

“Alright, alright—cake. Let’s get this over with before I start feelin’ like a damn Hallmark card.”

You brought over the cake, candles already lit, your face glowing in the soft flicker as you sang the most off-key, dramatic “Happy Birthday” you could manage. He groaned, but he didn’t stop you.

He blew out the candles.

You sliced two pieces, handed him a fork… then stole it right back.

“Say ah.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You really gonna hand feed me right now?”

“Our wedding reenactment,” you smiled, lifting a bite to his mouth.

He opened it, still scowling—but barely—as you fed him a chunk of cake. He chewed, crimson eyes on you the whole time.

“Good?” you asked.

He gave a slow, appreciative nod. “Yeah. sweet.”

"that so..."

You leaned in, swiped a little frosting from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips looked so soft, gilding your frosted coated thumb onto them, then kissed it off his lips, pressing your own into the softness of his. It started soft.

But when your lips brushed his again—slow, and achingly warm, and just a little longer—his hands naturally found your waist, pulling you closer until you were nearly in his lap. He kissed back, gentle but hungry, lips parting to taste more of you.

You murmured between kisses, breath hot against his mouth: “Birthday kiss.”

He blinked slowly, his lips still parted from the kiss, eyes dazed and focused only on you. His hands anchored warm on your waist, thumbs stroking slow, thoughtless circles into your skin through the thin fabric. His gaze trailed over your face—your lips, your flushed cheeks, your eyes so full of mischief and adoration.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, almost like it slipped out without permission.

You kissed the tip of his nose, giggling softly. “Thank you.”

And then?

His hold tightened. Just slightly. And he pulled you into his lap.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice thick and low, “I’m gonna forget we were takin’ things slow tonight.”

You leaned in, straddling him without hesitation, your thighs hugging his hips as you settled against him. His body welcomed you instantly, his hands sliding up your sides, fingertips dragging the fabric of your top slightly—like he wanted less of it between you.

“I was never planning to go slow, birthday boy” you whispered, brushing your lips just barely against his jaw. “especially tonight.”

His breath caught—sharp, audible. You felt it in his chest, the way it stuttered under your palms. His reaction was subtle, but every part of him twitched with anticipation: his hands, his legs beneath you, the slight lift of his hips like he was already imagining how this night would end.

“Got one more present for you,” you murmured into his ear. “The real one.”

Bakugo’s brows lifted, suspicious. “Thought that damn journal was the real one.”

You grinned, climbing off his lap for just a moment—enough to walk toward the bedroom with that sway you knew drove him wild.

He watched, chin propped on his hand, eyes darkening the second your fingers dipped beneath the hem of your top as you disappeared down the hall.

“Oi,” he called. “What kinda present needs you to change for it?”

You didn’t answer.

But when you reappeared in the doorway—lingerie clinging to your curves like a second skin, chosen with him in mind—Bakugo sat up so fast he nearly knocked the fork off the coffee table.

Your name left his mouth like a groan.

“Holy shit…”

You were wrapped in delicate black lace, the kind of thing he never thought he’d see outside a magazine, and even then—never on you. Never just for him.

His mind blanked.

No words, no witty comeback. Just the shape of you silhouetted in the soft golden light. The way the sheer material clung to your curves, catching every dip and swell like it had been tailored with him in mind. The way your thighs moved when you walked, slow and sure, like you knew what that sight alone was doing to him.

His mouth had gone dry.

And still, he sat back—frozen on the couch, like his body had been rooted to the spot. Only his eyes moved, dragging over you with almost painful reverence.

Your presence wasn't just seen. It was felt. In the sudden hush of the room. In the way the air itself seemed to shift as you crossed it. There was a softness to it—like watching a flame flicker behind glass. Dangerous, but so goddamn beautiful.

Something in his chest ached.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw you like this—wanting him like this. That wide-eyed, breath-stolen reaction always snuck up on him.

His gaze caught on your collarbones, then drifted lower—hesitating on the swell of your breasts barely veiled by lace, down the soft line of your stomach, until it settled between your legs, where the thin strip of fabric left far too little to the imagination.

The sight knocked the wind out of him.

One of his hands, resting uselessly on his thigh, curled into a fist. The other—he didn’t even realize—had wiped itself discreetly on his jeans, sweat clinging to his palm.

Not from nerves. No. Never that.

Except maybe this time, it was.

Because you were walking toward him now, hips rolling, eyes locked onto his, and he could feel his body respond before his brain had even caught up. His mouth parted. Breath shallowed.

God, the way you moved. Like you were pouring yourself into every step. Like you weren’t just walking to him—you were offering yourself.

It made his pulse stutter.

And when you climbed back into his lap, warm skin settling over the growing heat in his jeans, he couldn’t think. All he could do was feel. Your nails dragging against the nape of his neck in ghost trails feather-light, his body withered under the touch. Your perfume mingling with his senses what scent was that? and why cant he stop sniffing you.

"You smell really good baby...really good" his nose ghosted your neck, hips pulling you closer. Your thighs oh so soft to him, bracket him so warmly.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

He just looked.

Admiration wasn’t something Bakugo handed out easily—not to friends, not to strangers, and definitely not out loud.

But he was looking at you now like you were everything. Like you were a dream made real. Like he didn’t know whether to kiss you, worship you, or fall to his knees for you.

He couldn’t stop drinking you in.

How had he gotten this lucky?

You kissed him again. Slowly, reverently. The kind of kiss that curled toes and short-circuited nerves. You would use a hand to pull him by the shirt, and when you pulled back just enough to murmur, “Happy birthday, Katsuki,” his lashes fluttered low, heat gathering in his face as he let the words sink in.

His breath hitched when your hands found his chest.

Just fingertips at first, dragging over the fabric of his shirt like you were memorizing him all over again. You didn’t rush—just let your palms glide across solid muscle, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as your thumbs brushed the edge of his ribs.

He was already warm under your touch. And you hadn’t even done anything yet.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss just beneath his jaw.

Then another—lower, slower. Your lips parted against his throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses in a trail that dipped down the curve of his neck. His skin twitched under each one, the breath in his lungs turning shallow, rough.

“who knew you’d do something like this,” he murmured, but the strain in his voice made it sound more like a will to give in than a tease.

You didn’t answer. Just smiled against his skin, your teeth grazing lightly before you sucked. Gently—just enough to make him feel it. And then again, lower. His hands tensed at your waist.

You tilted your head to kiss along the other side of his neck, scattering another series of soft hickies—like you were branding him in lace and affection.

A groan vibrated in his chest.

Your fingers slipped to the hem of his shirt. He didn’t resist. Didn’t even move.

He just watched you. Quiet. Obedient in a way only you got to see.

You peeled his shirt up, inch by inch, revealing the planes of his stomach—warm, lightly flushed, his abs tightening beneath your gaze. You kissed his chest slowly as you exposed it, lips brushing across firm muscle, leaving kisses that lingered just a little too long.

You didn’t break eye contact.

Not once.

Even as you sank further down, mouth worshipping the path beneath his sternum. Even as your nails lightly scratched up his sides, drawing out a low hiss from between his clenched teeth.

His body was buzzing now—caught between restraint and surrender.

And it was beautiful to watch him come undone like this. Strong and scarred and still, somehow, soft for you.

His head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, one hand gripping your hip while the other fisted into the couch cushion. His thighs flexed beneath your hands.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word half breath, half plea.

You hummed softly, letting your lips hover just above his waistband.

“You’re warm,” you whispered, voice sultry and low, like you were letting him in on a secret. “All over.”

And he was.

Buzzing. Flushed. Waiting.

With his chest bare, his breathing ragged, and his eyes glassy with anticipation—he looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Your lips hovered just above the waistband of his sweats, breath brushing against the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric. The muscles in his abdomen tensed again.

And still—you didn’t touch him where he wanted you to. Not yet. Instead, you lifted your gaze, locking eyes with him as your mouth curved in the faintest, knowing smirk. There was power in the way he was watching you. Tension in the way his thighs shifted restlessly beneath yours. Every inch of him buzzed. For you.

“Can I take these off Kats?” you asked, voice honey-slow.

Bakugo grunted, half-dazed. “… yeah.”

I mean what the hell were you asking him. If anything he just wanted on him immediately but it was all for you to watch him be a completely different person He sounded so obedient watching every moment like a patient puppy. His beautiful crimson eyes shimmering under the soft glow of the room.

Your fingers dipped under the waistband and dragged it down slow. The fabric caught on the hardened outline of him, and he hissed through his teeth as you freed him from the restraint.

His cock sprang up, flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. His hips twitched upward involuntarily, like his body was pleading before his mouth could catch up.

You made a sound of appreciation in the back of your throat—soft, reverent—before leaning in to press another kiss, just above the base. Your tongue flicked out, tasting the warm skin there. "You want me this much suki"

His whole body shuddered.

“Y-you're really gonna take your time with this, huh?” he muttered, voice rough, but low with awe.

You didn’t answer.

You just looked up again, lips parted, pupils blown, hands pressing to his thighs to steady him—before licking a slow, flat stripe from the base to the tip.

Bakugo cursed under his breath, his hand flying to the back of your head on instinct—but it never pushed, never forced. Just tangled in your hair, holding on for dear life.

Your mouth closed around him, warm and wet and unforgiving.

And he melted.

His head tipped back, jaw slack, a ragged moan slipping past his lips. You sucked him down slow—sloppy and deep—letting your tongue trace every sensitive vein, letting your spit drip down over your hand as you worked the base.

He was a mess.

Every time you hollowed your cheeks and sank lower, his thighs tensed. His breath hitched. His hips jerked upward before he caught himself, groaning through clenched teeth.

"Fuck... baby… you—goddamn."

You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, then sank down again, deeper this time.

And he twitched in your mouth, body locking up as you moaned around him.

The sound went straight to his spine—he was pulsing now, barely holding on.

When you pulled off with a wet pop, spit connecting your lips to him in a string, you wiped your mouth slowly with the back of your hand, lips swollen, eyes hooded.

“Wanna ride you,” you whispered, climbing back up into his lap. “Can I?”

Bakugo was panting. Eyes glassy. Completely undone.

He swallowed hard, leaning into your chest to whisper "Please.”

You hovered over him, your hair framing your face so bewitchingly. You lined him up with your entrance, already soaked and pulsing for him. And as you sank down, inch by inch, his eyes rolled back and his hands grabbed your hips like he needed something to anchor him to this earth.

You moaned low as he stretched you open.

“Shit—so full,” you breathed, resting your palms on his chest.

“Look at me,” he rasped, voice trembling. “Wanna see your face.”

You did. And when your eyes met his—when he saw the way you looked at him, like he was the only one you ever wanted—his whole expression softened.

His hands caressed up your waist, slow, reverent.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered, voice shaking.

You didn’t move right away.

Not really.

Instead, you hovered just above him, your entrance brushing the slick, sensitive head of his cock—barely letting him in, just enough to tease. Just enough to let him feel the heat of you. Your thighs flexed slightly, hips rolling in slow, agonizing circles that dragged your soaked folds over the tip again and again.

A soft, wet sound filled the space between you. Your juices clung to him, thick and sticky, smearing across his shaft with every grind.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head thunking back against the couch. “You’re—fuckin’ killin’ me.”

You smirked, gaze flicking up to watch him.

And god… the way he looked right now? His chest rising with every ragged breath, his lip bitten raw, his knuckles white where he clutched your hips. Every muscle in his thighs was trembling beneath you. Twitching with the restraint it took not to thrust up and bury himself in you.

You leaned forward, your chest brushing his while your hips stayed in motion—rocking slowly, teasing him with slick, hot friction.

“I thought this was your birthday,” you purred into his ear. “Shouldn’t I be giving you what you want?”

Bakugo grit his teeth, his jaw tight with tension.

“I do want this,” he growled. “You drivin’ me fuckin’ insane like this—teasin’ me—makin’ me feel like I’m gonna explode just from the tip—shit…”

You giggled, soft and wicked, and sat back just enough for him to watch.

One of your hands reached between you, guiding him so the head rested right at your entrance again. You gave a few slow bounces—just the tip sliding in and out, each time making him curse louder.

“S-shit! Baby—fuck—fuck, just let me in—” His voice cracked, his fingers digging into your skin like he was about to lose it.

You finally pressed your hips down a little more, letting him sink in halfway.

His mouth fell open, a deep, guttural curse ripping out of him. His head snapped forward to look at where you were taking him in, flushed and wide-eyed.

And you just smiled at the desperation in his gaze.

“are you feeling good baby,” you whispered, dragging your nails lightly down his chest.

“God—yes—fuck yes,” he hissed, eyes fluttering as you dropped down another inch. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. You always do. Always…”

You leaned in again, letting your breasts press to his chest as you kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Then you better hold on,” you whispered, breath hot, “because I’m not gonna stop until you’re a mess for me.”

And with that, you finally sank down fully. All the way. His entire body jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

He let out a strangled sound—somewhere between a moan and a gasp—his head rolling back, hands gripping your ass like he was holding onto sanity itself.

You didn’t move for a moment.

Just stayed there, so full of him, clenching around him until he twitched helplessly inside you. And then—slowly, sinfully—you started to ride.

Your hips began to move again—slow, like honey melting in warm sun, like a wave building over time until it crashes. You circled them, let your walls flutter around him just to feel the way he shuddered beneath you. His eyes opened halfway, heavy-lidded and glazed, following every sensual sway of your body like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

And to him—it was.

“Katsuki…” you whispered, your palms gliding up his abdomen. “You’re so deep.”

A sharp breath hissed between his teeth. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, but his hips bucked once—shallow, needy. You kept your pace measured, deliberate, grinding down into him with that same velvet friction that made his head roll back again.

“Shit,” he groaned, the sound low and desperate. His hands were clutching at your waist now, not to guide, but to ground himself. “You’re squeezin’ me so good, mmm"

You leaned down slowly, dragging your lips across his collarbone. Then lower—pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest, his nipple. As you moved, your body rolled into his, your rhythm never faltering, hips undulating in a steady, torturous rhythm.

Every time you sank down, he twitched inside you, groaning louder.

“I love the way you sound baby,” you whispered, licking the salt from his skin. “All desperate and sweet. My perfect birthday boy.”

He looked at you like he’d melt.

One of his hands slipped up your back, tangled into your hair, tugging lightly as you nuzzled his neck. You licked a stripe just beneath his ear, then suckled gently at his skin, your teeth dragging slightly—leaving soft, loving hickeys along his neck and collar.

And every one had him groaning, his cock jerking inside you.

“Gonna mark you up tonight,” you murmured. “So everyone knows who you belong to.”

“I already do,” he rasped, voice nearly broken, “fuckin’ been yours.”

You smiled into his skin and sat back again, palms braced against his chest as you began to bounce now—slow, deep, full bounces that had him clenching his jaw and moaning through his teeth. His abs flexed beneath your hands. His hands gripped your hips tighter.

Your name left his lips like a prayer.

Your hips found a rhythm—delicious, sticky, sinful—and the way he filled you, the way he responded to every little grind, made your legs start to tremble.

He felt it. His hands slid down to cup your ass again, helping support your movements as he watched you from beneath heavy lashes.

“Baby,” he breathed. “You’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me come—just like this?”

You leaned forward again, kissed him deep, then pulled back just enough to whisper:

“Yes. Inside. Don’t hold back. I want you to come just like this.”

He let out a wrecked moan, his hips finally thrusting up to meet yours, matching your rhythm.

Faster now.

Deeper.

You clung to his shoulders, your mouth falling open as the coil inside you tightened and tightened—

And then he gasped—eyes rolling to close, mouth open and his cock twitching violently inside you as he spilled, deep and thick and hot, fingers bruising your hips while he cursed your name like a confession.

You didn’t stop.

Not even then.

Still slow. Still steady. Still riding out every aftershock as he moaned beneath you, overstimulated and undone. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and soft as they met yours. His hair stuck to his forehead. His chest heaved. His hands slid up your spine, arms curling around you as he held you close.

Your chest heaved against his, his heart pounding against your ribcage like a war drum. He was still buried deep, twitching, oversensitive—but you didn’t move. You just cradled his face, tilted it up so he had no choice but to look at you.

“Listen to you,” you whispered, voice sultry and sweet as sin. “Mouth full of curses… all because I couldn’t help creamin’ all over this fat cock.”

Bakugo groaned through clenched teeth, face flushed and jaw tight like he was holding onto the last thread of sanity.

“You heard it, didn’t you?” you murmured, grinding just enough to make him jolt, to let another wet, obscene squelch fill the space between you. “God, the noise we made—bet our neighbors think I was drowning in it.”

He groaned louder, head falling back against the couch.

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and lingering, then whispered, “Soaked you, Katsuki. You feel how messy I made you? Look at your lap—look at what you did to me.”

He peeked down—eyes glassy—and let out another hoarse, broken curse when he saw the slick still glistening between your thighs, watching how you both were still connected before you lift your hips to show him, with such a sly smile it did something to him, watching his cum dripping slowly out of you onto him.

You guided yourself back in, rocking your hips again, so delicately, and he twitched inside you, helpless. His whole body shivered with a groan, his head collapsing on your shoulder "fuck enough"

You grinned. “You liked it when I sat there and shook my ass on it, didn’t you? Teasin’ you right on the tip ‘til you were cussin’ like you were about to lose your damn mind, yeah?” you grind.

“You’re—fuckin’ evil,” he gasped, fingers twitching against your waist.

You kissed his jawline this time, biting lightly just below his ear. His hands gripped you tighter again, like he was about to flip the script—but he was still spent, still weak from how you dropped your ass on him, He just held you there instead, breathing ragged, letting you purr filth against his skin.

"A little"

#bakugo katuski #mha smut #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #boku no hero academia #becertainlust #birthday smut #birthday sex #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou

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urcoolgf · 3 months ago

Note

can you do rafe still wants you but you’re barry’s gf

this is so good yesssss

OFF LIMITS?

pairing. boyfriend’s bsf¡rafe && reader

content. 18+. smut. cheating (not on reader). unprotected sex. breeding kink(ig?). language. mention of drugs.

he couldn’t believe you were with barry.

you were everything he wasn’t; kind, smart, well-mannered, innocent.

God, you were so fucking innocent—not in the ‘never been kissed way’ just the way you looked at him, eyes wide like you’d let him do anything to you. it drove him crazy. rafe couldn’t help but think about ruining you. you were so delicate, so breakable. and rafe—he wanted to break you in. it was all he thought about; at night with his dick in his hand, at dinner when he was supposed to be partaking in family conversation, when he woke up in the morning, every. single. shower. you were every thought—even his dreams had you in them.

and you were with barry? what did he do to deserve you?

he was a drug dealer—a bad guy. he was an asshole with no morals, a guy who’d do anything for a stack of cash, or a bag of coke. rafe liked to tell himself that you were only doing it to prove a point, maybe fuck with your parents or friends, freak them out by dating ‘the drug dealer’. that was the only thing that kept him sane—not that he was. he was far from it when it came to you.

so, it was inconvenient that every time he needed his next fix, he had to see you.

—

rafe’s fist banged against the metal door of barry’s trailer. he didn’t bother to wait for him to open it—his pounding was a warning rather than a request.

he walked into the trailer only to find barry sitting on the couch… with you in his lap. barry played with the hem of your shorts with one hand, the other occupied with a beer bottle. your tiny tank top left little to the imagination, and your shorts had the same effect. the ‘B’ necklace hanging from your neck made rafe’s skin crawl. he hated it, hated you for wearing it, hated barry the most. your dark hair fell perfectly against your flawless skin, and your perfect legs were on full display across the couch.

this sight should be considered a form of torture.

“ayo country club! what’s goin’ on my man,” barry greeted rafe with a faux level of enthusiasm… and you just sat there, all pretty and perfect and fuckable and rafe was losing his damn mind. your big doe eyes looking up at rafe when he entered had blood rushing to his crotch. it was pathetic, and he hated it (he loved it).

you climbed off barry’s lap so he could retrieve rafe’s coke. you knew how this worked—not only with barry, but with rafe. he was a loyal customer. you sat yourself back down on the lumpy couch, the tv playing something on a low volume. you pretended to watch, but all you could focus on was rafe’s gaze burning into you. you shifted uncomfortably—mainly because the couch was uncomfortable, but rafe’s eyes didn’t help either.

barry came back with a bag of cocaine, exchanging it with rafe for some cash the blonde pulled out of his pocket. a sudden ring was heard through the trailer, barry reaching into his pocket to pull out a phone.

“yeah? … shit! a’ight, a’ight. … CALM DOWN. fuck ‘m on my way,” he hung up without another word.

“yo rafe, imma need ya to stay here with y/n. i gotta go handle somethin’,” he said frantically, grabbing the keys to his bike and something else before heading toward the door.

“wait! barry where–?!,” you started, you weren’t necessarily worried about him leaving—more worried about him leaving rafe alone with you.

“i’ll be back, princess. just gotta handle business. y’know how it is. stay here a’ight?,” and he was out the door without another protest from you or rafe—not that rafe had any protest.

“okay, bye…,” you muttered to yourself as you heard the bike starting, and sputtering off. rafe couldn’t help the smirk spreading across his face as he plopped down on the couch next to you.

“looks like it’s just me and you ‘princess’,” he mocked barry’s nickname for you (even though rafe would love to call you it at any given chance).

“looks like it,” you responded, bringing your knees to your chest. you didn’t mind rafe, but he had a tendency to ‘flip switches’, and you would be lying if you said that didn’t scare you… just a bit.

“c’mon doll… ‘m not gonna bite,” he taunted quietly. he scooched just a little closer to you. he leaned over so his mouth was right next to your ear, “unless you want me to,” he whispered. you would be lying if you said that didn’t send chills down your spine.

the next thing you felt were his fingers pushing strands of your hair out of your face. he peered down at that awful necklace, reaching out to toy with it. you couldn’t move—you should have, should have gotten up and walked to the other side of the trailer—but you were stuck. not physically—mentally. you didn’t know why, but your brain didn’t even want you to move. told you to ‘stay put. let him do it’.

he released the necklace, letting the metal fall back against your chest. his fingers trailed around your collarbone, featherlight like you would crack if he was too rough. your breathing was uneven and shallow, and rafe was thriving off it.

“haven’t pushed me away, sweetheart,” his low tone aggravated you. not because he was annoying, just because he was so smug. he knew what he was doing to you right now, and he was enjoying it.

“y’know you’re too good f’r him, baby,” he was whispering as if he had to keep it a secret, as if barry was on the other side of the wall. you were frustrated with your speechless-ness, frustrated with the way your thighs clenched together at his words, at his touch. your knees were starting to hurt from being pressed together so hard.

you finally looked toward him, met his lust-filled eyes. his pupils were so blown that his eyes barely looked blue anymore. your breath hitched, plump, glossed lips parting ever so slightly. rafe could feel your warm, unsteady breaths against his face, and his mind went foggy.

he closed the space between you like if he didn’t kiss you now barry might come back before he could—like he had to seize the moment.

you wished you had pulled away, slapped him right across his face, told him how wrong it was—how messed up he was, and kicked him out… but, you didn’t. you couldn’t.

—

“shit, doll… so fuckin’ tight f’r me. barry not big enough f’r ya?,” he said breathlessly as he pumped in and out of you. your naked body was caged against the couch, rafe’s equally naked body moving above you. all you could do was whimper in response. you didn’t know how long barry had been gone at this point, and shamefully… you didn’t care. if he walked in right now while rafe’s dick was making imprints on you, you don’t think you’d even want him to stop. you felt shitty, but rafe quickly distracted you.

"answer me,” he demanded, moving his hand to grasp your throat just enough to grab your attention, and knock the wind out of you.

“fuck! no– no rafe,” you responded. you couldn’t even think—the way his dick was hitting spots you didn’t even know existed was making your head spin.

“say it,” he spat at you—not in a mean way, he was being cocky. he wanted you to say he was better, say barry couldn’t compare… unfortunately, you were too cock drunk to protest.

“barry’s– not… he’s not big– enough. shit!,” your words were broken by moans and sobs—and the pressure rafe had on your throat right now. your back arched off the couch after a particularly deep thrust, sending your eyes to the back of your head.

“yeah… ‘nd fuckin’ remember it, too,” he was putting his all into fucking you. he would make sure he got this opportunity again, but he didn’t know when. he was going to make the absolute best of this. make the best of his best friend’s girlfriend opened on his dick, mascara running down your face, hair messy, totally gone.

his hand left your neck, moving both hands to squeeze your tits—stabilizing him in a way—as he continued moving in and out of you. he looked back at the ‘B’ resting on your chest. you noticed a smirk spread across his face, but you were too blissed out to say anything.

he wrapped his hand around the metal, ripping it from your neck forcefully. you shrieked from the sudden movement, the back of your neck stinging from the action.

“open up, baby,” he cooed. your lips parted instantly, he smiled at your obedience, placing the ‘B’ between your lips, instructing you to bite down on it.

“let barry hear your moans, princess. let him hear how good i make you feel,” the smug look on his face drove you insane—not in the way it did not even 30 minutes ago—in a way that had you clenching around him.

“fuck– jus’ like that… holy shit, pussy’s fuckin’ perfect,” his jaw tensed at the sensation. your arms were hooked around his neck, but when you felt your orgasm approaching, your manicured hands mindlessly raked down his back. a hiss could be heard from the man above you.

"there ya go… cum on this dick, sweetheart. make a mess f’r me,” his hand moved down to rub circles into your clit, and that was all you needed. you were convulsing around him, shaking beneath him, and coming undone with a loud moan that was barely muted by the metal in your mouth.

“want me to cum in ya? get ya all fat with my babies? let barry see you carryin’ my kid? fuck you’d look so hot all plump f’r me,” his words came out in breaths. you could tell he was close.

“mhm! fuck– please ray,” you looked up at him, innocent, big, doe eyes staring right at him, and he was done for. he came in you with a shattered moan, painting your walls white. he pulled out slowly, watching his release drip out of you, and onto barry’s couch. he groaned at the sight, quickly pulling out his phone, taking a picture of your current state—he got all of you, from your messy hair, fucked out expression and glossy eyes, to the mess between your thighs. the ‘B’ still sticking out of your mouth in a sinful way.

you didn’t care. you never let barry take pictures of you—said it was ‘creepy’ and ‘borderline sadistic’, but for some reason when rafe did it… it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

"hope you can keep a secret, doll… because this cannot be the last time i fuck you.”

an: i’m working my way thru some more reqs, so if you sent something i promise it’s in my drafts.ᐟ this was a super fun one to write tho, so thank you to whoever sent this :)

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swordsandholly · 7 months ago

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Comfort Creator

Ghost who downloads tiktok only because Soap and Gaz made him so they could send him memes. He hates the app. Thinks everyone on it is just talking way too much about nothing. Finds the consumerism and attention seeking to be beyond annoying.

Ghost who still finds himself scrolling when he needs a mental break from paperwork.

Eventually, he realizes he keeps getting fed this one creator’s videos. It’s the tea reviews that reel him in. They’re nothing special, just them sitting in front of the camera sipping on some artesian tea while chatting about their day and the flavors.

Before long, though, he’s watching all their content. From random rambles to outfit videos to movie talks. They just have a very soothing voice is all. Nothing to do with their pretty face or obviously too-kind disposition. A sweet little thing; so unlike him.

He officially follows three people now.

The thing about Ghost is, he doesn’t sleep. Well, he does, but it’s either like the dead when he’s exhausted himself beyond what his body can handle or fraught with nightmares. He isn’t sure what compels him to do it the first time, but Ghost puts on his their tea review playlist; just lets it play through while he lays in bed. He’s never slept so well. Somehow their voice just makes everything else quiet - like it flips a switch in some primal part of his brain.

At some point he comes across the term “comfort creator” and realizes that’s exactly what he’s got.

A few months pass and Ghost finds himself on medical leave with absolutely nothing to do and all the time in the world. He decides to try some of tea his favorite little creator has reviewed - even some of the bad ones, just to see if he agrees. Maybe he’ll find a new favorite to keep on base.

He makes his way to a local high-end tea shop. All loose leaf and custom blends from various brands and places around the world. He’s far too aware of how out of place he looks - a hulking man in all black and an arm cast in this frilly little shop. A real bull in a china shop.

Ghost’s back goes ram rod straight when an all too familiar voice tries to get his attention. He turns comically slowly, heart pounding in his ears. There they are, tapping his arm and asking if he’ll be so kind as to get that strawberry rose blend down from the top shelf that’s just out of reach. He does, of course, spluttering through an awkward “you’re welcome” and kicking himself when they scamper away to the register before he can introduce himself.

But now he knows they’re close, a shop they must frequent, and has plenty of time on leave. All he has to do is find the right opportunity to make proper conversation. How hard could that be?

#I know this is lazy but it’s haunting me #might return to this with more thoughts #bumbling Simon is my guilty pleasure #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty #gender neutral reader

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cruel-as-sin · 6 months ago

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take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

pt. 2

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett xmen #wolverine #wolverine x reader #old man logan #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #old man logan x reader #cas one shots

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docrobinavitch · 5 days ago

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tracing back lucky stars

dr. robby x f!attending!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually explicit content, infidelity, swearing, angst, usual medical canon events (not much tho), mention of alcoholic parent, other mentions of death, grief, age gap (less than ten year gap) words: 15.4K synopsis: this fic spans over a decade and follows our reader from first meeting robby in a chance interaction in florida as a resident all the way to 2024. all events take place prior to season one. this is inspired by when harry met sally, as requested from one of my beloved anons. lots of will they won't they, robby being oblivious to his own feelings for like ten goddamn years, i guess slow burn ish??? a/n: hi my friends, can't explain just how much fun i had writing this so huuuuuge thank you to the anon that requested it!! i really hope you love it. they will live in my brain space for quite a while i think. title is taken from song lucky stars by haim. as always thank u for being here!! <3 syd

2013

As you stood at that rental car counter, you decided you hated the south. You hated the way southerners pretended to be nice, but really probably hated your guts. The way they smiled at you and crooned with their syrupy sweet voices that bless your heart, they thought you were a little soft in the head. Everyone always loved to say northerners were assholes, but to you they were just honest. You had infinitely more respect for the guy from Philly who flipped you off in traffic and screamed out his window that you drove like a ninety seven year old lady with glaucoma than the man in front of you who was giving his best Aw Shucks expression as he told you he would not rent his last car to you.

“Ma’am, as I’ve already explained to you, I cannot rent you that car, it’s a manual.”

“And as I’ve already explained to you, Martin, I know how to drive a stick.”

“If that’s true,” He said slowly, “Then why did you select ‘automatic’ for preferred transmission type on the rental form?”

You sighed and let your hands rise and fall loudly with a smack onto the counter, “Because the year is two thousand and thirteen and I assumed that there would be an automatic car available.”

You were running very low on patience after the morning you’d had. After spending the weekend at an emergency medicine conference, you had gotten up at four in the morning to make an early flight back to Pittsburgh. But lovely, beautiful Panama City, Florida had fucked you over from the moment you woke up this morning.

The hot water in your hotel room had been out and you’d been forced to take an icy shower. You spilt orange juice all over the outfit you planned to wear to the airport and so were forced to instead wear denim shorts that rode just an inch too high. The iced coffee you had made yourself behind schedule to buy before getting to the airport was knocked from your hand by an inattentive cyclist. And you had broken the heel on one of your cowboy boots on your way into the airport. So you hobbled up to bag check only to find out that your flight was cancelled and could not be rescheduled until tomorrow.

You couldn’t wait until tomorrow. You were an R3 and you had a double shift tomorrow and you needed this flight to get back to Pittsburgh at a reasonable hour so you could get whatever sleep possible before reporting for shift. So you really, really needed this fucking car if you had any hope at all of both getting some sleep and making your shift.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m just not comfortable renting you the vehicle. Now, I really need to take care of the next customer–”

“Oh, Jesus, fuck, I’m trying to give you money for a service!” You pushed your credit card and license across the counter, “Please just rent me the car so I can go home!”

“Excuse me,” The voice behind you was rough and warm, and oddly familiar. It took you less than thirty seconds to place him.

You had listened to him speak at the conference for an hour about how to deliver bad news to patients with the right amount of empathy. You remembered specifically how soothing you had found his voice and found it unsurprising that he would seem so good at delivering bad news. He could probably tell you he had stolen your identity and all money from your bank account and you would thank him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard you’re also heading to Pittsburgh?” He said to you and then turned to your newly minted nemesis, Martin, “I can drive stick, I could drive us both.”

Well, smooth voice or not, he could get fucked if he thought he was going to steal your rental.

“Excuse me,” You said, turning to the doctor who was way taller in person than you remembered him being on stage, “But you’re not taking my rental.”

“Ma’am, as I’ve said, it’s not your rental.”

“Martin,” You said, your voice high and strained as you whipped your head back towards him, “Could you mind your own goddamn business, please?”

“I— Sorry—“ Doctor Soothing Voice interjected again, “I just, I heard you were going to Pittsburgh and it’s the last rental—“

“So you thought you’d steal it from me?”

He laughed and scratched the back of his head, “No, I thought we could split it.”

Ordinarily, you may have been more polite. You had really enjoyed his talk. But you were very angry and your ankle was throbbing from when you had broken your heel. You wanted a peaceful drive by yourself.

“I don’t share cars with strange men, that’s how you end up on Dateline.”

He nodded, “Yeah, fair enough. What if we grab a coffee first?” He turned to Martin and slid a fifty dollar bill across the counter, “You’ll hold the car for us?”

You watched as Martin pocketed the fifty, nodding politely at Doctor Soothing Voice and you glared at him, upper lip beginning to turn up in disgust. You could already be on the road by now if it wasn’t for this sexist pig who thought women couldn’t drive stick.

“If you keep staring at him like that,” Doctor Soothing Voice whispered from over your shoulder, “You might actually end up on Dateline when they find his body.”

Accepting defeat, you sighed. Grabbing your bags, you began walking away from the counter.

“Have a beautiful day, ma’am.” Martin said as you walked by.

You gave a short laugh and started to turn back around, “Oh, you son of a—“

“Nope.” Doctor Soothing Voice gently took your shoulders and turned you back in the direction of the door, “Just keep walking.”

Once outside in the oppressive humidity, you shook his hands off you, “You know, I could have handled that myself.”

He nodded, smiling, “I have no doubts on that front.” He gestured down to your heel-less boot, “What happened to your boot, you get in a brawl with a condescending horse?”

You snorted, “A doctor and funny. Though, I guess unsurprising since you work in an ER. If anyone’s gonna be funny it’s emergency medicine doctors. How else do we cope with the horrors?” He frowned at you in silent question, “Oh. Sorry. I should have said, I was at the conference, I saw your talk. Though your name is slipping my mind at the moment.”

He raised his eyebrows and you saw the way his eyes traveled down your legs and back up again, “You were… Here for the conference?”

“What, so, because I wore cowboy boots and booty shorts to the airport you think they’re gonna take my medical license away?”

He laughed, “You’re right, I apologize. Of course you can still practice medicine in booty shorts.” He held out a hand for you to shake, “I’m Michael. Robinavitch. You could also just call me Robby, if you want, that’s what I go by in the ER.”

You shook his hand and gave him your name, “I’m an R3, I work at UPMC Presbyterian.”

“Huh, what are the odds?” He ran a hand through his hair, “So you knew who I was and still refuse to get in a car with me?”

You started rolling your suitcase towards the Dunkin’ across the street, hobbling as you went, “Just because you’re a good doctor doesn’t mean you’re not also a deviant. People are layered and nuanced. And sick.”

His mouth was twitching towards a smirk again as he followed after you. Something about you was very intriguing to him. “Nuanced like how you’re an R3 wearing booty shorts and cowboy boots to the airport?”

“Yes, exactly.” You looked both ways at the crosswalk in front of the Dunkin’ before stepping into traffic, “Besides, I need an iced coffee if I’m about to endure fifteen plus hours in a car with a stranger.”

Robby continues to watch you from behind, eternally amused by your uneven gate, “Don’t you have other shoes?”

“Yes, well, I’ve hardly had the time to dig into my suitcase to find them now, have I?” You turned and walked backwards so you could look at him, “Do you criticize all your residents like this?”

He frowned, “That wasn’t a critique, you just look uncomfortable. Do you get this defensive with all your attendings?”

You turned away from him and he watched your shoulders heave with a sigh, “No. Believe it or not, I’m not normally like this. Must be something about you that gets under my skin.”

“Well,” He smirked and held the Dunkin’ door open for you, “You have about fifteen hours to figure out what it is.”

***

“When was the last time you drove stick?” Robby was holding the keys up just out of your reach. You knew he was trying to see if you would jump for them, but you would not be humiliated. You crossed your arms and glared at him instead.

In the last half hour you had changed your shoes and drank half your iced coffee while Robby filled out the rest of the paperwork for the car.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, more than ten years ago?”

He scoffed, “Okay, you’re definitely not driving then.”

“What, like you drive a stick super often?”

“Yes, actually, the car I own at home is a manual.”

You laughed, “Oh, okay. You’re one of those guys?”

He blinked at you, still smirking, “What does that mean? One of those guys?”

You walked around to the passenger side door, opening it, and standing on the step so you could look over the roof at him, “You know, one of those guys who only drives a manual and thinks they’re better than you for it. And like, probably owns a fucking motorcycle or something that he works on in his garage with his own two hands and talks about like it’s his child.”

You watched with glee as his face reddened, “Oh my God, you do have a motorcycle, don’t you? And a leather jacket?”

“Get in the car,” He said, still blushing as he opened the driver’s side door.

Very pleased with yourself, you ducked into the car.

***

“How’d you learn to drive stick?” He asked once they were on the road.

You were eating a donut with your feet propped up on the dash, the window open and blowing in your hair, “My dad taught me.”

He nodded, “Are the two of you close?”

“No,” You said, mouth full of donut, and then swallowed, “He was an alcoholic.”

“Oh,” Robby said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, he’s not dead, he’s just dead to me.” You turned to him and smirked as he was blushing again, “It’s okay, I haven’t spoken to him in almost ten years. I’ve moved on.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “Sounds like that must’ve been… difficult.”

Your smile widened at his attempt to comfort you. Commiserate, even, “We are strangers in a car for fifteen hours together. We don’t have to do all this.”

He shrugged and turned to look at you briefly while stopped at a red light, “Isn’t this sorta the whole point of being alive though? Getting to know strangers?”

He had very intense, very warm, brown eyes. The kind of eyes that seemed to look right through you on first glance, that made you itch to break his stare. For just a moment, your smile slipped, and you tore your gaze from his to look out the windshield, “The light’s green.”

After a few moments of silence, you cleared your throat, “Seems like now’s a good time to mention that I am engaged, by the way. So if you were thinking about falling in love with me in the next fifteen hours, don’t.”

You heard him chuckle next to you, “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it. You’re not my type.”

You choked on your iced coffee and turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“What?” He laughed, “Are you shocked that the booty shorts didn’t work on me or something?”

You felt your face flush and you turned away from him, “No, I just… men don’t have a type.”

He scoffed, “What are you talking about?”

“Men will fuck any woman who shows even a little bit of interest in them. It’s why they’re incapable of being just friends with women.”

He raised his eyebrows, “You don’t think men and women can be just friends?”

“I don’t think straight men and straight women can be just friends because the man will always be secretly thinking about fucking her.” Robby was shaking his head, “What, you disagree?”

He laughed, “Yeah, of course. I promise I am not thinking about fucking you even a little bit.”

You smirked, “Okay. Well, I guess we can be friends then. At least until you prove me right.”

“Won’t happen.”

You grinned, “Friends forever, then.”

He laughed, “Yeah, sure. Friends forever.”

***

The sun was beginning to set when Robby pulled back on the highway after stopping for Wendy’s, french fry hanging from his mouth.

“I could drive, you know, for a little while.”

“S’okay,” Robby said, food in his mouth, “I like the driving. Prefer it, actually.”

You nodded, “Yeah, that tracks with the whole thing you got going on.”

He laughed and gave you a quick glance, “You are such a know-it-all, you know? Anyone ever told you that? What thing do I have going on?”

You tossed a chicken nugget in your mouth before answering, “I’m not a know-it-all, I'm just really good at reading people.” You swallowed, “You have control issues.”

He ran a hand over his face, slightly shaking his head, “And how did you arrive at this conclusion?”

You shrugged, “It’s just sorta written all over you. The way you stepped in at the rental counter, the way you insist on driving, even in your talk at the conference you told a story when you were a resident where you ended up stealing a patient from another, more senior resident because you thought you knew best.”

He scoffed, “Yes, but I was right.”

“That time. I’m sure you’ve done that before and been wrong.” He’s quiet and when you look over at him, his jaw is clenched. Oh. You’ve pissed him off. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. We all have quirks—“

“Like you being an insufferable know-it-all?” He said sharply.

You went quiet. You weren’t offended, exactly, moreso caught off guard that you had triggered him so easily when it hadn’t been your intention.

“Sorry,” He said after a moment, sighing, “That was unnecessary.”

You nodded, “Let’s take a break from talking for a while.” You leaned forward to start fiddling with the radio before sitting back and humming along.

Robby drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, but for the most part, the two of you sat in companionable silence for roughly a half hour.

Until Robby cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for snapping at you, I know I have control issues. Guess it was frustrating hearing it from someone who doesn’t even really know me.”

You shrugged, “It’s okay. For what it’s worth I have been told I’m an insufferable know-it-all.”

He smirked, “And does your fiancé love that about you?”

You snorted, “No. There’s nothing a man hates more than a woman who thinks she knows more than him.”

The comment struck him as a little too honest. And he thought, perhaps, there was a note of hurt in your voice.

“How long have you been together?” He asked mildly.

You sighed and he saw you examine the ring on your finger out of the corner of his eye, “We dated for three years and got engaged about six months ago.”

He nodded, “You have a date in mind for the wedding?”

You became uncharacteristically quiet and he worried he had pushed too hard, but then, “No, um, we still can’t agree on a venue. And then we just decided maybe it would make more sense to wait until I finished my residency.”

“Oh,” He said, “Well, yeah, that seems reasonable.”

You cleared your throat, “What about you, Robby, you have anyone at home?”

It was not lost on him that you had redirected the conversation away from yourself, but that was fine. It wasn’t his business anyway.

“No,” He said, “No, it’s just been me for a while now.”

You nodded, “How’s that going for ya?”

He smirked, “No one to make a victim of with my control issues, so it’s alright.”

You smiled and then yawned, “Could you talk for a while?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, “About what?”

“Anything. Medical procedures. Hell, give me your talk again.” You yawned a second time, “Anyone ever told you you have a very calming voice?”

“Oh, so my talk put you to sleep?”

“No,” You settled back into the car seat, pulling the lever to recline it slightly and resting your head against the door, “Your talk was very good, actually. You just have a nice voice. It’s how I recognized you earlier. But now, yes, I would like you to put me to sleep if you don’t mind. I have a double tomorrow.”

Robby smirked and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes were already closed, head leaned against the window, arms crossed across your chest.

“Alright,” He said eventually, “If you insist.”

***

It took only about twenty minutes of him talking, redoing the talk he had done the day before, before he noticed you had drifted off. When he could safely get a look at you, he saw your mouth slightly agape and you were snoring softly. It shocked him how endearing he found it, how oddly comforting it was to drive with someone dozing off in the passenger seat.

You had entered your address into the GPS a couple of hours ago and with the street lights illuminating the inside of the car, he pulled up outside your apartment building.

He hated to wake you, you really did look so peaceful, the street lights giving your face an artificial glow.

He stared at you a beat too long before he reached a hand to your knee and gave it a light squeeze, “Hey, you’re home.”

You stirred, what sounded almost like a mewl crawled out your throat as you came to and Robby fought a smile. “Home?” You asked sleepily.

“Yes,” He leaned away from you, allowing you to wake fully, “You fell asleep.”

You blinked the sleep from your eyes and looked around, “Well,” You dragged your arm at the corner of your mouth, wiping away the drool that had collected there, “I think it’s safe to say you’re no deviant, Michael Robinavitch. Thank you for getting me home safely.”

He smirked and got out of the car to help you with your suitcase, “Anytime.”

Having all your things, you looked from your apartment building back to Robby, “So, we’re still friends?” You asked, smirking, calling everything back to your earlier conversation.

A slow smile made its way across his face. The answer was yes, but he was beginning to wonder if he had more than fifteen hours with you if the answer would eventually be no.

“Yes,” Was all he said, though. You were engaged. Someone else’s. “Friends forever, like I said.”

Your smile widened and you laughed, “Good, excellent. Maybe I’ll see you around then, Dr. Robby.”

He nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets, “I hope so.”

And then he watched, leaning against the car, as you made your way towards the apartment building. You didn’t look back at him. He waited until you were safely inside before climbing back into the car and pulling off the curb.

***

2018

Normally, you could only be found at a local bookstore, but every one you had checked as of late was missing the one book you wanted. So that was how you ended up at Barnes & Noble that day. You were crouched in front of the shelf, looking intently at the spines to locate the title you were looking for and so didn’t notice that someone was now standing next to you.

Successfully locating the novel, you pulled it from its shelf and rose to standing, beginning to read the blurb on the back cover.

Which was how you found yourself face to face with Michael Robinavitch after not seeing him for five years.

“Oh,” You said, “Hi.”

Quickly, you realized it was more than likely he had completely forgotten about you. It had been five years since you had shared that rental car up to Pittsburgh and you hadn’t seen him since. He hadn’t changed all that much, though his beard was a bit more unruly than you remembered.

But then, his face lit up in recognition, “Hi,” He said, seemingly shocked, but pleased to run into you, “I almost didn’t recognize you, your hair… it’s… different.”

You smirked, “Oh, you hate it.”

“No,” He said quickly, “No, I actually think it suits you more than the long hair.”

You smiled, “Nice save. Just as charming as I remembered.”

He shook his head, a flush working its way up his neck, “You still at Presby?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I’m an attending now, though.”

“Good, that’s good,” You noted the way his eyes fell to your left hand and you knew what he was looking for, “Did you get married, then? You said you were waiting to finish your residency.”

It was shocking to you that he remembered you had said that. At the same time, it sent an ache through you to think about that relationship.

“I did get married,” You said slowly, looking down at your empty ring finger, “We got divorced about a year ago.”

“Oh,” He sighed, “I’m… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” Instinctively, you placed a hand on his forearm, meant for reassurance. But his eyes stared down at your hand, and self consciously, you pulled away, “We probably shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place,” You shrugged, “Besides, relationships will probably always be doomed for me. Emergency medicine doctors suck at marriage.”

He barked a short laugh and shook his head, “You can’t think like that.”

“Hey, I’m just going by the empirical data,” You tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes at him, “Are you… in a relationship? I didn’t see a ring.”

He gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m actually here with my girlfriend, Janey and her son, Jake. Wandered off by myself while they were looking for a book for him for school.”

Oh, it pissed you off the way your stomach sank. He had always said you weren’t his type anyway. He was probably actually telling the truth. It figured the only honest man you’d ever met wouldn’t be into you.

Granted, you didn’t really know Robby, only the version of him that lived in your head from that fifteen hour car ride that you revisited every so often. More so since your divorce finalized. But it was just loneliness, you assured yourself. You had created a version of him in your head that didn’t exist. The man you occasionally pined after was not in front of you, just someone who looked like him.

“That’s lovely, Robby. I’m happy for you.”

He laughed, “You just said ER doctors can’t keep a relationship.”

You shook your head, “Stupid and self deprecating. It’s just a coping mechanism. I’m sure you’re really great at it. Being a boyfriend.”

He scoffed and scratched the back of his head, “I don’t know about that, but I’m trying.” He nodded to the book in your hand, “What’s that?”

You flipped it in your hand so he could see the cover, My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Otessa Moshfegh.

“Uh, just a book I heard about online,” You shrugged.

“What’s it about?”

You shrugged again, smirking, “A woman who is so sick of everything she gets her psychiatrist to prescribe her enough pills to sleep through a whole year.”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you. You had worked with many an ER physician in your career and while in med school. You knew what it looked like when someone was assessing you for injury.

“Should I be concerned?” He asked. His tone was casual, but his posture was anything but.

Your grin widened, “You should always be concerned about me.” You joked, but his frown deepened, “I’m fine, Robby. It’s just a book.”

It wasn’t totally true. You had sought the book out because you suspected you would relate to the protagonist. Maybe too much. But he was a stranger. He didn’t need to hear about your suicidal ideations.

“You still drive stick?” You asked, anxious to move the conversation away from yourself.

He laughed and shook his head, “No, I finally have an automatic like the rest of the population.”

You laughed, “Oh, no. Bummer. You’re just like the rest of us peasants now. Do you at least still have the motorcycle?”

“Sold it a couple years ago.”

You winced, “Man, you’ve really let yourself go.”

He laughed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. You didn’t want to leave, but you felt the longer you stood here talking to him, it threatened to disprove the belief that he could not be as lovely as you made him out to be in your head.

“So,” You said finally and held your fist out to him, “Still friends?”

He gave you a lopsided grin and pressed his fist to yours, “Friends forever,” He repeated the words from five years ago and for a moment it felt as if no time had passed at all, “Like I said. Though I hope to see you again sooner than five years from now.”

“Yeah,” You said, “Me too.”

***

2023

Robby had zero desire to meet the new attending Gloria had hired. Whoever it was, they had been hired behind his back and with no warning to him until they were three days out from when they were supposed to start. If Gloria had hired someone behind his back, it had to mean that whoever it was was in her pocket. Or at the very least, Gloria thought that person was in her pocket. And that was enough for him to stay far away from whoever it was.

But what he hadn’t been expecting when Gloria came downstairs, new attending by her side as she gave a tour, was you.

He stopped short and stared dumbly as you and Gloria approached him. Unfortunately for him, he was unable to stop the stupid smile that spread across his face at the sight of you.

“Dr. Robinavitch.” You said, once you were close enough. Your smile was wide enough to mirror his, “It’s good to see you again.”

He laughed, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You two know each other?” Gloria frowned, looking back and forth between you two.

“Sort of.” You said, “We met at a conference ten years ago.”

Sort of was an accurate way to describe whatever this repeated crossing of paths seemed to be between the two of you.

“Oh.” Gloria seemed less than pleased at this revelation, “Lovely. Well, I’ll leave you in more capable hands then. Come find me if you need anything.” And then she was gone.

Robby shook his head at you, “I’ll ask again, what the hell are you doing here? Presby get too small for you?”

“Uh,” You shrugged, “I just… really needed a change.”

He smirked, “And… knowing I was here probably made it more enticing?”

You laughed, “You caught me. Thought it was finally time we became actual friends.”

Robby could not explain how pleased he was that you were here. It was stupid that he cared. He hadn’t seen you in five years. And before that brief exchange, he hadn’t seen you for five years before that. So really, he hadn’t seen you in ten years. And yet, he was traipsing you around, introducing you to everyone, laughing a little too loudly at your jokes, like he was a fucking teenager.

Until he was walking you home at the end of the day. Until you mentioned Dean.

“That’s great,” He said when you said it, that you were seeing someone, “So you think you’ve broken the ER doctor curse, then?”

You shrugged, smirking, “Probably not. But I really like him. It feels good, right now.”

“Good,” He said, “You deserve that.”

And he meant it. You had looked so sad the last time he’d seen you. And even before that, the first time you met, you had struck him as something of a wounded animal. Defending itself with jokes and pessimism. You deserved to be truly happy.

“And what about Janey, how is she?”

He sighed, “Um, we broke up shortly after the last time I saw you. It seems the curse of the ER doctors is still with me. But I still get to see Jake, her son, so I feel really lucky about that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s probably for the best,” He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, “I’ve been a fucking wreck since covid anyway.”

You nodded, “Yeah. It’s been a rough couple of years.” The silence stretched between the two of you. Neither of you brave enough to break it with the horrors you experienced during the pandemic.

Finally, you cleared your throat, “Did you lose anyone?” You asked quietly.

He swallowed thickly, then nodded, “Our Chief of Emergency Medicine, Dr. Adamson. My mentor.”

He heard your sharp intake of breath next to him, “I heard about that. I didn’t realize you were close. I’m so sorry, Michael.”

Something about you using his first name undid him just a little and he had to focus very hard on his shoes and his steps to keep the emotion at bay.

“What about you?” He asked instead, “Who did you lose?”

Because you had to have lost someone. Almost everyone had. Especially if you worked in a hospital.

You sighed deeply, “Our charge nurse, Liz. She was like a mother to me. She’d been charge since I was a resident.”

“Is that why you left Presby?”

“I watched a lot of people I loved and deeply respected burn out and hospital admin did nothing about it. I know too many nurses and doctors both that decided to retire early or completely change careers.” You shrugged, “I don’t know. It felt like I was watching my entire department crash and burn.”

He shook his head, “It’s so fucked.”

“That we’re here and they’re not?” Finally, he met your gaze. Your eyes were warm and impossibly open as you looked at him. If he looked closely enough, he could see his own grief mirrored back at him. He gave you a slight nod.

“Yeah,” You sighed and looked up at the moon, “It is fucked.”

After a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence, you stopped in front of an apartment complex, “Well, this is me. Thank you for walking me home, though it was completely unnecessary.”

Robby shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, “Let me feel useful, will you?”

You laughed, “Alright. See you tomorrow, then, Dr. Robby.”

He watched you go inside and as he walked away from the building he found himself thinking that he wished you’d call him Michael again.

***

It went like that for weeks. Robby walked you home after every shift, though you insisted it was unnecessary. You talked about everything and nothing. The shift, the hard patients, the ones you lost. To books and music and film. To childhood stories and first loves. It was finally starting to feel like you knew each other, rather than just a projection of each other ten years ago that lived in your respective brains.

But it wasn’t long before he noticed the way you seemed to be shrinking every time he saw you. Your smile just a little less genuine, the spark in your eyes dimmed ever so slightly. And he was too afraid to ask you why.

Instead, Robby started showing up outside your building in the mornings, an iced coffee in hand for you.

A few weeks of watching the two of you walk into the ER together, all smiles and laughs, and Abbot couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.

“So,” He said as him and Robby were walking through the ER for handoffs, “You gonna tell me about your girlfriend or am I gonna have to torture it out of you?”

Robby gave him a quizzical look, “What are you on about? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, okay, so you’re just buying iced coffees every morning for anyone these days?”

Robby laughed, “Are you accusing me of being a harlot because I occasionally buy my colleague a coffee?”

“So she’s not your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Okay. But you’re sleeping with her?”

Robby huffed and shook his head, “No. We’re just friends.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at Robby, “Friends who… Occasionally sleep together?”

“Okay,” Robby sighed, “We’re done with this conversation.”

Robby walked away and Jack scoffed, turning to Dana, “I’m not crazy, right? They’re definitely sleeping together.”

Dana rolled her eyes, “No, actually. She has a boyfriend.”

“Right,” Jack said emphatically, “And the boyfriend is Robby.”

Dana cracked a smirk, “No, you idiot. She’s seeing someone outside the hospital.”

Jack’s eyes widened, “You’re not kidding? With the way they look at each other?” Dana just continued smiling at him, “Alright, well, no one should be surprised if Robby walks in here one day with a black eye.”

“Who’s punching Robby?” You asked, approaching the hub, “What’d he do now? Is it Mohan? Because, I gotta tell ya, I’d pay to see that.”

Jack laughed, “Not Samira, your bo—“

Dana smacked Jack lightly in the stomach, cutting him off, “You eat anything today, kid? You look peaked.”

You frowned, “I just got here. Are you saying I look like shit?”

“There’s donuts in the lounge, sweetheart.”

“Well,” You pushed yourself off the hub, unable to turn down a donut, regardless of Dana’s implications, “Yeah, okay.” And disappeared towards the lounge.

Dana turned back to Jack, who was rubbing his stomach dramatically as if he’d actually been injured, “Could you not cause trouble on my shift? Go home.”

“Fine, fine,” Jack backed away, headed to the lockers, “But you know I’m right.”

Dana watched Robby as he tracked you with his eyes into the staff lounge, “Man, could you at least try to be less obvious?” She said under her breath, shaking her head.

***

The shift hadn’t been so terrible. You hadn’t lost anyone today and had only gotten yelled at by one patient, and she had been high out of her mind so you didn’t really count it. Still, you were in your head. Or, on your phone. Dean had been MIA for a couple of days now and you were supposed to meet him at his place after your shift, but he hadn’t answered any of your texts or calls.

He had been distant lately. This wasn’t the first time he had disappeared for days on end only to show up later and act like it wasn’t a big deal. You were growing tired of it, of the games. You were forty years old now, you thought once you were this old the men would quit playing games. I mean, fuck, he had you, so what was the vanishing act about? What was he trying to prove?

Grabbing your things from your locker and placing your headphones over your ears, you pressed play on your music and began the walk back to your apartment. You turned the music up loud enough to drown out the thoughts that tornado’d around in your head.

Loud enough that you didn’t hear the man who came up behind you and squeezed your shoulder.

You screamed and jumped back– Only to see it was Robby standing there, hands up as he backed away from you, concern all over his face.

“Fuck,” You swore and bent over your knees, trying to catch your breath after tearing off your headphones.

“Sorry,” Robby said softly, “Sorry, I thought you heard me, I’d been calling after you for a while.”

You straightened, “It’s okay.”

“You, um,” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, “You left without me. You usually wait.”

“Oh–I–Sorry–I–” You sighed, frustrated with your stammering, “I’ve been in my head all day, I just…” You sighed, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Hey,” He lowered his head to force you to meet his eyes, a gentle smile on his face, “It’s okay. What’s going on with you?”

You hesitated and then looked away from him, starting to walk again. He fell into step beside you, patiently waiting.

“Would it be weird to talk about my dating life with you?”

He shook his head, “No. Why would it be weird?”

Right, because he wasn’t attracted to you even a little bit. As he was always so quick to remind you.

You liked being friends with Robby, but working in the same ER you could no longer deny that you found him very sexy. Especially when he caught a rare diagnosis. Or he very calmly and gently explained a procedure to a resident while alarms were beeping around them and nurses were shouting out vitals.

Even just watching the way he rubbed hand sanitizer into his hands between patients had you imagining his hands in… very inappropriate situations.

And all the while you had to remember that he was not, and would never be, into you like that. And also, you had a boyfriend. A very sexy boyfriend in his own right, though my God, could he answer the fucking phone?

“No reason,” You sighed, “I don’t know, um, Dean’s just been a bit distant lately. He hasn’t answered my calls or texts in a couple of days and we’re supposed to meet up today.”

He nodded, “And you’re thinking…?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. He’ll probably break up with me soon. Or just ghost me. That’s what they usually do.”

He frowned, “This happens to you often?”

You smirked, “I know. Hard to believe with how charming and likable I am that I can’t keep a man.”

Robby didn’t laugh, though, just kept walking and silently staring ahead.

You let the silence stretch and fold between you, Robby clearly holding something back, but refusing to acknowledge it.

“You got something to say?” You said, more casually than you felt.

Robby clenched his jaw and let another few moments of silence pass, “No.”

You gave a short laugh, “Okay.” You said, stretching out the word, “I mean, you can say it, whatever it is. We’re all friends here.”

He shook his head, “I just wonder why you keep choosing men who clearly don’t respect you or even like you very much.”

His words stunned you to a stop. He kept walking for a few steps before realizing you stopped and he turned back to face you.

At the look of surprise, and even hurt on your face, he sighed, “Look, I… I didn’t mean that to come out so harsh, I just don’t understand it. I mean, it was clear even ten years ago from what you said about your ex husband that he didn’t give you what you needed. And now you’re with this loser who can’t even be bothered to answer a text.” He ran a hand over his face, “You could probably have any guy you wanted in all of Pittsburgh, but instead you seem to purposely pick men that disappoint you.”

You scoffed and started walking again, “Okay, so it’s my fault that men treat me like shit?”

“Really?” He fell into step beside you again, “That’s what you’re gonna take from what I said?”

“How else am I supposed to take that?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “I just wish you’d see that you deserve better.”

You laughed and slowed to a stop, “Robby, I’m fucking forty years old. I’m divorced. I’m obsessed with my work. I’m an insufferable know-it-all, as you know. I’m not easy to love. I don’t exactly have men breaking down my door to be with me, alright? Dean is… Not perfect. But he’s all I have.” He stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite place, “What?”

He shook his head and looked down at his feet, “Nothing. Nothing. I’m sorry for what I said… It’s not my business.”

You bit your lip, fighting with the tears that seemed to threaten to overflow. And maybe Robby would think that the tears were just because he crossed a line, but it was more than that. There was something so fucking hurtful about this wonderful man in front of you, who had been so clear that he did not want you, making a whole speech about how you deserved better. Had he not ever once considered that good, decent men just did not love you and never had? Going all the way back to your father who would have done anything for a bottle of scotch but couldn’t remember to pick you up from school?

“Hey,” He said gently, stepping closer to you when he noticed your watery eyes, “I’m sorry, okay?”

He dropped his backpack to the ground and pulled you into his arms, “I’m sorry,” He repeated into your hair, arms tightening around you and anchoring you to his chest. He smelt of clean laundry and fresh pine deodorant. You closed your eyes and for a moment, allowed yourself to be comforted. To imagine what it would be like to be loved by someone like him.

Just for a moment.

***

You sat at your kitchen table, leg bouncing, fingernail gnawed between your teeth as you stared at your phone. It was nearly 9PM and still nothing from Dean.

This was ridiculous. You felt like a teenager waiting by the phone all night. You were just going to show up at his apartment, as planned. Maybe his phone was broken. Maybe a family emergency had come up.

But your earlier conversation with Robby was still playing in the back of your mind. Maybe you should just swear off men for good. Get a cat and dedicate yourself entirely to work.

Sighing, you stood and grabbed your car keys from the hook by the door.

***

You had knocked on his apartment door about ten minutes ago, giving up after a couple of tries. You leaned against the wall beside his door, trying yet again to call him, but it was sent to voicemail. You swore as you hung up, and as you did, the elevator at the end of the hall dinged and you heard the doors sliding open.

A feminine laugh floated down the hallway and you ignored it, still looking at your phone, until the laugh was replaced by silence. No walking. No voices.

You looked up and saw Dean, arms wrapped around a blonde that was easily at least a decade younger than you, probably more, mouth gaped open as he stared at you, “What’re you doing here?” He asked eventually.

What were you doing here? Chasing after a man that didn’t want you, just like Robby said. The tears that burned your eyes were not tears of sadness, but anger and humiliation. You sighed and pushed yourself off the wall, “Don’t call me. I’ll drop off your things next week.”

“Baby–”

“Oh, and just a word of warning,” You turned to the blonde, “He’s terrible at eating pussy.” You said, voice full of venom.

And then you ducked into the stairwell.

***

You had made it back to your apartment building and after turning the ignition off in your car, had begun uncontrollably sobbing, head resting against the steering wheel.

When the crying began to slow to just hiccups, you took out your phone and dialed Robby.

He answered on the second ring, because he was reliable. Unlike any of the men you’d ever been with.

“Hey,” You sniffled, “You were right about Dean. He doesn’t like me… or respect me.”

You heard him breathe for a moment in the silence as he processed what you had said, “Are you crying?” He asked finally.

You laughed and wiped your nose on your sleeve, “Yeah, I know, it’s fucking pathetic. It’s just so fucking typical that he would cheat on me with some hot blonde in her twenties and just, like, think I would never find out! He didn’t even try to hide it. Knew we had plans tonight, and– Or, I don’t know, maybe the plans were so insignificant to him he really forgot. I guess on top of being really goddamn annoying I’m also extremely forgettable.” You lightly banged your forehead against the steering wheel.

“You’re not annoying or forgettable.” He said gently, almost sweetly.

“You’re just saying that because I’m crying and you have to be nice to me.”

You thought you heard a quiet laugh, “I remembered you after two brief encounters ten years ago. Thought about you quite often after both run ins, in fact. I would say that makes you pretty memorable.”

Robby was many things, but you knew him to always, always be honest. And so his words sprung new tears from your eyes. What were you going to do when some perfect woman inevitably fell in love with him and he wouldn’t answer calls like these late at night? When you were spiraling and a fucking mess?

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t dispute the fact that I’m annoying.”

Another short laugh, “You are passionate and assertive and intuitive and very funny. None of which I find annoying.”

Your chest felt warm at his praise, “You said I was an insufferable know-it-all the first time we met.”

He sighed, “I was stupid then. Besides, I didn’t know then that you used your teasing as a shield to keep the attention off yourself.”

His revelation shocked you into silence and for a moment you just sat there, listening to his breathing. It was scary to be known and your instinct was to lash out, but you instead counted your breaths.

“Are you home?” He asked finally.

“I’m in my car, parked outside my complex.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You frowned, “What? What do you mean?”

“I started walking over when I heard you crying. Sorry, is that not okay? Should I turn around?”

“No,” You said quickly, too quickly, and you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, “No, I mean, you should come. I would… I would like it if you were here.”

“Okay,” He said softly, “I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Okay.” You murmured and waited until the line cut out before you lowered the phone from your ear.

True to his word, Robby strolled into the parking lot just a few minutes later. When he saw you get out of your car and lock it behind you, he quickened his pace until he was in front of you, pulling you into his arms. Much like he had earlier that same day.

And again, you allowed yourself to be coddled. Allowed it when he kept an arm around your shoulders as he led you into your apartment building. Ignored the flutter in your stomach when he pressed a kiss to your hair and told you you deserved better.

A couple of hours later, you’re on the couch, both pleasantly tipsy from the bottle of wine you had opened and the tears had long since dried. Your feet were in his lap and while the two of you talked, his hand had been unconsciously running up and down your leg.

He hadn’t seemed to notice, but you had.

“Did you say anything to him? When you left?”

You shrugged, “I told him I’d drop off his things.” Then you laughed, “I might have said something sort of awful to the girl though.”

He smirked, “What’d you say?”

You hesitated only a moment, flush building up your neck as you stared at the wine glass in your hand, “I told her that he was terrible at eating pussy.”

There’s a second of silence and then Robby bursts out laughing, “Is it true?”

You chuckled, still looking down at your wine glass, for some reason unable to look at him when talking about this, “Yes. He never made me come.”

Robby’s laughter died out and the hand on your leg stilled, “Never? Not even once?” You shook your head slowly, “How long were you dating?”

“About six months.”

Robby let out a low whistle, “Fuck.”

You nodded, “You’d be shocked the number of grown men who are clueless when it comes to knowing their way around…” You trailed off and cleared your throat, “Anyway, most men are pretty bad at it, in my experience, if they even like it.”

He exhaled heavily through his nose, “I just think maybe you have terrible taste in men.”

This again. You rolled your eyes, “As I said, the pickings are slim. Beggars can’t be choosers. Who would you have me sleep with, hm?”

When you looked up at him he was looking at you intensely. If you didn’t know any better, you would say hungrily. But just as soon as you were starting to wonder what it was he was thinking, the expression was gone and he stood from the couch, tossing your legs to the side.

“I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

You tried not to seem too disappointed, “Right. Of course.”

You stood and led him to the door, “Thank you for coming,” You said as you opened the door, “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

You smiled and nodded, “That’s what friends are for, right?” You said, self deprecatingly. You hadn’t meant for it to sound sarcastic, but you knew he must have heard it anyway.

He nodded and looked anywhere but at you. He was acting very strange. “Right, yeah. Friends.”

You frowned, “Michael,” You said finally and his eyes snapped to yours, “Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

He shook his head and then his eyes fell to your mouth, “No,” He said, gaze never straying from your lips, “I’m just tired.” He insisted.

“Okay,” You said slowly. He was drunk. Whatever was going on in his head right now meant nothing. Maybe he was staring at your mouth or maybe you had something in your teeth.

“Still friends?” You asked softly.

That joke. That stupid fucking decade old joke, still a shared line between the two of you, coiling ever tighter as time went on. And now it was fraying.

His eyes met yours and this time there was no mistaking the hunger in his gaze. You had mere moments to process the fact that Robby was looking at you with raw, unadulterated desire before his hands had grabbed your face and his mouth crashed into yours.

You gasped in surprise, but he was undeterred, his mouth hurriedly exploring yours as he moved you out of the threshold of the door and kicked it shut behind him. Beneath your initial shock, your body reacted. Robby was a man you had pined for on and off for more than a decade, and he was kissing you like you were a fresh stream and he hadn’t had water for so long that he couldn’t remember what it even tasted like. It took little more for the arousal to begin pooling in your stomach, for the ache between your legs to grow and expand.

But then, he licked into your mouth at the same time he lightly pushed you down on the couch and you could feel the way you dripped into your panties.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” He said breathlessly as he crawled over you.

You could only shake your head, watching him above you like this. You were so full of want, you leaned up to kiss him again–

But he pulled back.

“I need to hear you say it.” He said, his voice husky.

You swallowed, “Don’t stop.” You breathed.

It was enough. His mouth latched back onto yours, tongue making dizzying strokes against your own, and you were embarrassed when a whine escaped you. You tried pulling him by the shirt, needing him closer. At the same time, you wiggled your hips down until you felt yourself press against the knee he had slotted between your legs, seeking pressure and friction for your throbbing center.

But Robby pulled away, “I don’t think so.” He said, “Think I want to show you how a real man eats a meal.”

Were you dreaming? You felt like you were dreaming. Because there was no fucking way Michael Robinavitch was towering over you, obvious erection growing in his pants as he tugged your ankle to bring you to the edge of the couch. There was no goddamn way he was lowering himself to his knees in front of you, eyes never leaving yours.

But he was. And he tugged your shorts down over your knees. When you went to wiggle out of your panties, he stopped you, “Not yet.”

Slowly, he kissed and sucked his way from the side of your knee, up your inner thigh, until you were impatiently wriggling beneath his mouth. He said nothing, only wrapped an arm around one of your thighs to still you.

Finally, he turned his attention to your clothed pussy, running a finger down the damp spot at your center and sighing when your back arched.

“You’re so easy to rile,” He murmured, “It’s a mystery he couldn’t make you finish. It’ll probably only take me a couple minutes. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

The pet name went straight to your head, blood pounding in your ears. Your only response was a breathy sigh as he began delicately kissing you over your underwear. He began to apply a bit more pressure and you could feel his hot breath through the flimsy fabric.

When you felt his tongue, still over that fucking fabric, you moaned loudly, frustrated, “Michael.”

You felt the smug fucker smile against you before his fingers slipped under the cloth at your hips, pulling down. You lifted your hips eagerly to allow him to pull them off you.

Mercifully, he didn’t tease you any longer, his mouth was back on you immediately. If you were eager, he was desperate now, shoving his tongue deep in you and lapping up your juices. His hands held your thighs down so firmly when you squirmed, you thought he’d probably leave bruises.

He moved his mouth up to your swollen clit, humming against it as he pushed a finger inside you. You were so tight around his fingers, getting wetter and tighter as you approached your climax. With every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his finger, you felt yourself lose a little more control.

When he added a finger you thought maybe your brain was so overwhelmed with the pleasure it had forgotten to trigger your lungs to breathe. But a moment later, he sucked on your clit just hard enough to send you toppling over the edge and you were gasping for air.

When he felt your orgasm rip through you, he released your hips, finally allowing you to grind against his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you while you tugged him by the hair closer to you, impossibly closer.

When it was over, he pulled away from you, rising up to kiss your mouth, the taste of you still on his tongue. He kissed his way up your jawline to your ear.

“How was that?” He murmured against the shell of your ear.

You were still seeing stars from the intensity of your orgasm, “How do you think?” You gasped.

You felt him laugh against your neck and then his body pulled away from yours. You mourned the loss immediately, but clenched your fists at your sides to stop yourself from reaching for him.

“Could I use your bathroom to clean up?” He asked.

You frowned and looked to his pants, still clearly tented from his erection, “It’s at the end of the hall, but let me—“

When you reached out to palm him over his pants, he jerked away. Rejection coursed through your veins and instantly, you knew you were flushed with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” He said and smiled at you, but it seemed strained, “I just wanted to make you feel good. I’ll be right back.”

He turned and walked towards the bathroom without waiting for your reply.

You were still half naked on the couch, feeling confused and hurt as the high of your orgasm left you. What kind of guy made you come like that on the first try and then didn’t want you to touch his cock? What sort of fucked up point had he been trying to make?

***

Robby splashed water on his face, washing the remnants of you from his mouth and beard, and then looked at himself in the mirror.

Oh, you’ve done it now, man. He thought, You’ve absolutely fucked it.

He’d ruined everything. One brief lapse of self control and their entire friendship was now set to implode.

But you had looked so goddamn sad on that couch and when he heard that loser not only had cheated on you, but couldn’t even make you come, it had flipped some primal, animalistic switch in his brain.

Until all he could think about was you coming undone under his mouth while you moaned his name.

Still friends? You had asked at the door and he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t say the practiced words and finish the damn joke like he always did. Friends didn’t wonder what the other’s pussy tasted like or what they sounded like when they came.

What was an orgasm between friends? Maybe he could still salvage it. Maybe they could just pretend it never happened.

He wasn’t prepared to lose you, not when you had just showed up at PTMC after he had spent years thinking about you. Wondering how you were doing. If you were still here or if you had moved away. If someone was finally loving you how you deserved.

The two of you were drunk. It hadn’t meant anything. You would regret it in the morning and he would graciously act like he didn’t know what you were talking about. He’d give you a few days of space and then he’d show up again with an iced coffee and walk you to the hospital. And everything would go back to normal.

It had to. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

***

Robby had left in a rush that night after he came out of the bathroom, giving you a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead as he did.

You were left feeling confused and hurt, that he had rushed out like that after the way he kissed you and touched you. Tasted you like you were a fine wine to be savored. Then turned around and acted like nothing happened. Like he had just done you a favor.

Your thumb hovered over his contact on your phone for a couple days after. You both had four days in a row off of work, a rare blessing. You typed and deleted many texts. And then there was a knock at your door.

Fuck, was he here? Maybe to apologize, to explain why he ran out like that. He was scared, he wanted you, he was in love with you. You felt like a lovesick teen for hoping.

More likely, he would say it was a mistake and it wouldn’t happen again. And you would accept it even if it broke your heart because you had no other choice. You could either have this much of him or none at all.

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Robby standing in the hallway with flowers and coffee.

It was—

“Dean?”

***

Robby was pacing outside your apartment building with your iced coffee in hand. It had been four days since he last saw you. Four days of replaying that night in his head, getting off to the thought of how you felt and tasted. The way you sounded so desperate for him when you moaned his name.

But that was behind him now, he could forget about it if it meant keeping your friendship.

He froze when he heard your building door open and turned to look— It was you.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, staring at your phone and headphones over your ears. He watched as your lips parted slightly in concentration, tongue darting out to wet them.

He swallowed and averted his eyes. It turned out it wouldn’t be so easy to pretend like nothing had happened.

He’d keep trying though.

Finally, you looked up and you gave him a confused look as you pushed your headphones off, “Hi,” You said slowly.

He smiled and held out your coffee. Still frowning, you took it, “What are you doing here?” You asked softly as the two of you began the walk to the hospital.

“What do you mean?” He asked, staring ahead. He could feel your eyes burning holes into the side of his face, but he kept his focus ahead of him. It was all easier if he just didn’t look at you. “We do this every morning.”

“Right…” You said slowly and then scoffed when he didn’t say anything further, “Okay. Fine.”

“What do you mean, fine?”

“I mean if you want to act like everything’s fine, like you didn’t get me off on my couch a few nights ago, then okay. I’ll do the same.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose and kept looking ahead, “Okay. Great.” He could hear the irritation in your voice, but he ignored it, “How was the rest of your time off?”

He could feel you staring at him again, and then he thought he noticed you shake your head in his peripheral.

“It was fine.” You said finally, then you cleared your throat, “Actually, Dean showed up with flowers a couple of days ago. Said it was a mistake and begged me to take him back.”

Robby gave a short laugh, “Would’ve paid to see the look on his face when you told him to fuck off.”

You didn’t laugh with him. Didn’t say anything at all, in fact, and he felt his stomach twist with dread, “You did tell him to fuck off, didn’t you?” He asked quietly.

Still, you said nothing. Finally, he turned to look at you, but you were staring intently ahead. The tips of your ears red with what he assumed was embarrassment. Perhaps shame.

He scoffed, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The last thing I need right now is you on your high horse–”

“Do you have no goddamn self respect, is that it?” He spat, voice rising, “You chase after men who hate you because you hate yourself?”

You stopped walking then, your whole face flushed with either anger or embarrassment, maybe both.

“You have no fucking right to talk about the men I’ve been with when you behaved just like all the rest the other night!”

“Me?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “What are you even talking about?”

“You fucking ran out of my apartment, leaving me half fucked, and acted like it was no big deal. Don’t call. Don’t text. Then you show up at my apartment with a fucking coffee like nothing happened! Like it meant nothing!” Tears of frustration pricked your eyes, “At least with Dean I know what I’m getting, with you… it’s… it’s hot and cold and I never know what the fuck you’re thinking or what you want–”

“I want to be friends.” He said quickly, “I want to be your friend, I want you to be happy.”

You nodded and looked up towards the trees, willing the tears back into your eyes, “Right. Friends. Friends don’t lead each other on.” You said, lip curled, and then you continued your walk to the hospital.

He stared after you, stunned, and then jogged to catch up to you, “I told you from the beginning you weren’t my type–”

You were drowning. It would have been kinder for him to have tied a weight to your foot and shoved you in the river.

You turned and placed your empty hand on his chest and shoved, “Fuck. You.” He was much larger than you and you had a coffee in your other hand so he remained sturdy, though he fell back a step. Tears were streaming down your cheeks now, “We’re not fucking friends. We’re not anything.” You shoved the iced coffee back into his hand, “Just leave me alone, okay?”

Robby stared after you as you stormed off, jaw clenched and melted iced coffee in his hand.

***

Jack and Dana watched as you stormed into the ER, face red and splotchy. Your cheeks shined with tears under the fluorescent glow of the lights above. Robby strode in only moments later, a melted iced coffee in his hand that he tossed in the trash by the entrance as he walked over to the hub.

You were rushing around after stopping at the lockers, draping a stethoscope around your neck as you ambled right into Robby’s path, causing the both of you to stop short to avoid a collision. Jack and Dana watched as the two of you stared each other down for a few seconds, tension palpable, before you stormed off again. Robby stared after you for a moment before running a hand down his face.

Jack and Dana exchanged a look before Jack stepped to Robby and clapped a hand on his back, “Hey man, why don’t we get some air?”

Robby sighed, “I just got here, Jack.”

“And yet you already look like you’ve been through the ringer, so humor me.” He said and steered the other man by the shoulders to the stairs.

Once on the roof, Robby leaned over the railing and Jack joined him, his eyes roving over Robby, “What happened?”

Robby sighed, “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, man, what’s going on with you and Y/N? You ran after her at the end of the last shift. Now you walk in separately and if looks could kill, my friend, you’d be six feet under right now.”

He shrugged, “I fucked up. Crossed a line I shouldn’t have. I hurt her without meaning to. Now she wants nothing to do with me.” He looked at Jack and smirked, “That’s it.”

“So what’re you gonna do about it?” Jack asked, turning his attention back to the Pittsburgh skyline.

He laughed, “Nothing. She told me to leave her alone, so that's what I’ll do.”

Jack shook his head, “I don’t buy it.” Robby looked at him incredulously. “The two of you have been drawn to each other like magnets over the last, what, ten years? And you’re just gonna let her walk away?”

Robby smirked, “I already told you, it’s not like that with her. We’re just friends.”

“What line did you cross, then, huh?” Robby didn’t answer, jaw clenched as he avoided Jack’s stare, “I’ve seen the way you look at her, man,” Jack shook his head, “It’s not friendly.”

Robby was terrified that Jack may be right. That all this time he had been convincing himself you were just a friend, he had been falling for you instead. He knew the way the staff talked, not just Jack. Again and again, he dismissed them as rumors, a bit of lightness to keep everyone’s head above water. But what if there had been truth to it?

He had been so scared of losing your friendship he didn’t stop to think that the reason he was so scared was because maybe he cared for you more than just as a friend.

And if that was true, he had wasted so much time and energy fighting against it only to lose the war anyway.

Robby rubbed at his beard and shook his head, “Well, it really doesn’t matter because I fucked it, so.” He pushed himself off the railing and started walking towards the door that led back to the Pitt, “I should get back down there. Go home.”

Alone on the roof, Jack heaved a sigh, “I should really be getting paid extra for these free therapy sessions.” He murmured to himself before he walked back to the door.

***

For weeks, Robby tortured himself by reliving your last conversation in his head. The realization that you were hurting and he was the reason, it made him feel sick at times. In addition to that, after his conversation with Jack on the roof, he realized too late that he was in love with you. He thought about telling you many times, but it was so clear you wanted nothing to do with him, he thought it would probably just hurt you more.

The one time he had followed you out of the ER at the end of the shift intent on finally telling you, he had walked out to see your arms twined around Dean’s neck, your mouth smiling into his. His stomach had twisted and he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. It was wrong, it felt all wrong seeing you wrapped around him like that. He knew he had fucked up his chance with you, but it hurt worse that his fuck up had pushed you back into Dean’s arms.

He did his best to stay out of your way, but it was difficult. Since you were an attending yourself, he didn’t need to be involved in all of your cases, but there were times when you begrudgingly asked for a consult. Or a really rough trauma came in and it was all hands on deck.

It was uncomfortable for everyone on those cases. The unresolved tension between you two acted like a whirlpool, extending out and dragging unwilling participants to the center. You would bicker over treatment plans or silently glare at each other over patients.

Once, when he had walked in to you performing a thoracostomy with a warm water lavage, he thought he might fire you from how frustrated he was.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Hypothermic drowning victim, troponin levels suggested there was a cardiac event, I’m clearing the clots and rewarming with warm saline.” You said calmly without looking up from the patient.

“Did you consult cardio?”

“There wasn’t time.”

“You could have at least fucking called me.”

You looked up at that, and then back down, “He’s back to sinus and at normal temp.” You said and began to deglove, “I’m not going to apologize for saving a patient.”

He followed after you as you walked back to central, “You and I both know you’re supposed to call in your chief attending for approval whenever you want to do some crazy procedure that is outside the standard of care–”

“It wasn’t outside of the standard–”

“You’re not a fucking cardio attending,” He said, louder than he meant to. Others turned to stare at the two of you, “Look,” He said, lowering his voice, “You can hate me all you like, but we have to work together when we’re here. And that means,” You had rolled your eyes here and he had to move his head to force eye contact with you, “That you consult me before you do anything that is considered outside the norm. Got it?”

You sighed, “Loud and clear, boss. Can I go now?”

He stared at you a moment longer and his eyes fell to your mouth. He hadn’t meant to stare, to recall the way your mouth felt against his or how soft and pliant your lower lip was when he pulled at it with his teeth, but that’s what he found himself doing.

And you noticed. He watched as your frown deepened and you turned, walking away before he could say anything else.

“Fuck,” He murmured to himself and laced his hands behind his neck.

“You okay, Cap?” Dana asked as Robby trudged over to the hub, leaning over on his forearms.

“Just peachy.” He sighed.

“You coming out tonight? It’s Princess’s birthday. Everyone’s going to Monterey’s.”

“Everyone?”

Dana smirked knowingly, “Yes, I heard she’ll be there too.”

He shook his head slowly, “Then, no. I will not be going.”

She sighed, “The two of you cannot keep going like this. If for no other reason than it’s starting to affect your work. Time to put your big boy pants on and face… whatever the fuck is going on with you.”

“What do you want me to do, huh? She wants nothing to do with me. Should I lock us in a room together and force her to talk to me?”

Dana shrugged, “Maybe, if you think that’ll work.” Robby shook his head and looked away, “Come out tonight.” Dana said, “There’s nothing a drink or two can’t fix.”

***

It was 8:30 when you walked into Monterey's, having gone home to change. You hated going out in scrubs, it felt wrong somehow.

You spotted Robby almost immediately where he stood near Dana, but pretended you hadn’t noticed him as you headed to the bar.

It didn’t seem to matter though, because he was next to you two minutes later as you waited for the bartender to return with your drink.

“Could we talk?” He asked.

Your eyes flitted up to his and you found yourself momentarily distracted by how beautiful he was. The freckles, the crinkles at his eyes. You had had to work very hard not to notice the last few weeks.

You turned back to the bar, “I’m waiting for my drink.”

“I can wait.” He said immediately.

You drummed your fingers against the bar top, “If this is about earlier–”

“It’s not about work.”

You swallowed, “Well, what, then?”

He didn’t say anything, eyes following the bartender as he made your drink. Once the drink was in your hand, he began walking, gesturing for you to follow as he led you outside.

It was quiet out here. The Sun just barely peeking over the skyline, a faint orange glow illuminating everything. You felt claustrophobic as he led you down an alley on the side of the building. It had felt like forever since the last time you’d been alone together.

He came to a stop and turned to you, clearing his throat, “How are you?” He asked softly.

You sighed, “Robby, I don’t–This is unnecessary–”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I think about it every day. But I can’t–”

“So you regret it then? What we did?” Your voice broke as you said it. There were so many layers to how hurt you still felt after everything with Robby. It was difficult to untangle most of the time, so you had just buried it. But standing here with him so close, you could feel it all clawing to the surface, demanding your attention.

“No.” He said firmly, “No, I don’t. I regret the way I handled it.”

You took a sip of your drink and looked away from him, “I see. So you just wish you had maybe let me down easier, then? Is that it?”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “This isn’t coming out right. I’m so fucking bad at this.”

You scoffed, “I’m just gonna go back inside, okay? We’re good, I promise, I will make sure to consult you–”

“I love you.” He blurted out, and you froze. “I’m in love with you. I’ve probably loved you a little bit from the moment I met you.”

For a second you just stared at him, the only sound was the sound of each other’s breathing.

Then, your eyes watered and you inhaled a shaky breath, “Don’t do this.” It came out breathless, a desperate plea, “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” He reached out, grabbing your free hand to keep you from running.

You were shaking your head, turning to leave, then turning back when his hand tightened around yours, “You’re just lonely, you don’t want me.”

He tugged you by the hand until you were just inches from him, “I do,” He said nodding, “I love you. And I can say it as many times as you need me to to believe it.”

You swallowed, “You said just a few weeks ago that I wasn’t your type and you’ve been saying it for ten years.”

He shook his head, eyes roving over your face until they settled on your mouth, “We were both there the night I kissed you. Do you really believe that?”

Not really, no. You could still feel the urgency of his tongue in your mouth. You could still hear his reverent sighs at the sight of you naked. Still, he had pushed you away, left you alone and rejected.

Your chin wobbled, “Michael.”

His name came out in a broken plea. You weren’t sure what exactly you were begging for. For him not to mean it or for him to mean it.

He laced his free hand through the hair at the back of your neck, “Don’t be scared, okay? I’ve got you this time. I promise. I was stupid, I was so afraid of losing you as a friend I ignored the way I really felt.”

You rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes. You wanted to believe him, but you were afraid, too. Afraid he’d change his mind, like all the rest. Leave you more broken than when he found you.

“I love you,” He whispered and pulled back to kiss your forehead, “I love you,” He repeated, pressing a kiss to your cheek. And he went on like that, kissing your face all over as he repeated those three words and you felt like your chest was being cracked open. If he reached in to pull your heart out, to hold it, still beating in his hand, you’d probably let him take it. You’d let him do anything he wanted if you could just stay in this moment.

Until you couldn’t take it anymore and you caught his mouth with yours. He pushed you into the brick wall behind you, careful to place his hand between your head and the hard stone. The single act of tenderness had tears springing to your eyes again and you felt so fucking pathetic that you kissed him harder, desperate to drown out the feeling.

He moaned when you pulled gently at his lip with your teeth and the sound had the muscles coiling low in your belly, heat accumulating with every new taste and touch and sound.

Mouth still on yours, he frantically unbuttoned your jeans and shoved his hand down between your legs. You whimpered when he dipped a finger just barely into your entrance, his sigh in your ear sounded like relief. Like he had been dying to touch you like this for weeks and weeks, and finally he was saved.

When he pushed his finger fully inside you, you cried out and he covered your mouth with his own to stifle it.

“Robby,” You sighed as he stroked your walls, thumb coming up to rub dizzying circles around your clit, “We… We shouldn’t… I haven’t—I’m still with De—“

“I know you were not about to say another man’s name when I'm knuckle deep inside you, right, sweetheart? You wouldn’t do that, would you?” He added a finger and you would’ve folded if it weren’t for his body pressed to yours, keeping you steady, “You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You gonna come nice and quiet in my hand so no one hears you?”

God, no one else had this effect on you. No one else could talk to you like this, make you soft and malleable like warm putty. It drove you insane. He drove you to the fucking brink and you knew you would still come back and beg for more. He made you insatiable.

When you didn’t immediately answer him, his hand stilled and you whined, shimmying your hips against his hand.

“You can be quiet, can’t you?” He dragged his teeth down the column of your throat, sending chills down your spine.

“Yes.” You sighed, “Whatever you want.”

You felt his smirk against your skin and his fingers started stroking you again. You had to stifle the moans that fought to climb up your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to climax.

“There you go,” He said, pressing tender kisses to the side of your face, “So close, I can feel you. Be a good girl and come for me, yeah?”

His praise sent shockwaves through your body and to quiet yourself and prevent yourself from crying out, you bit down on his shoulder.

“Did so good for me,” He murmured, pulling his hand out and re-buttoning your jeans for you as you fought the daze of your orgasm. He kissed your head and grabbed your hand, “Come on, follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my place.”

“Oh— What about Princess?”

“She’ll forgive us once the rumors spread about why we left together.”

You fought the smirk on your face, “Dean is expecting me later—“

Robby turned to look at you, “Fuck Dean, alright? Let him wait up for you and wonder where you are for once. It’s more than that jackass deserves.” He started tugging you by the hand again and you found you didn’t want to argue.

You knew it was wrong, to punish Dean the way he had hurt you, but in truth, you didn’t think he’d care much when you didn’t turn up tonight. You wouldn’t tell Robby this for fear he’d show up at Dean’s apartment intent on fist fighting him, but you knew he’d continued cheating on you the last few weeks.

It didn’t hurt as much as it had the first time you found out. Probably because you had been hung up on Robby.

You’d break it off with Dean tomorrow. Right now, you just wanted to let Robby have his way with you.

***

Finally seeing Robby naked for the first time felt as close to a religious experience as you thought you would ever experience. In his bed, you were kissing every freckle, every scar, every tattoo you could reach while your hand was between his legs, stroking his erection.

He looked wrecked and love drunk as you worked him. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you learned what touches had him moaning, which had him gasping for air, and which had his eyes rolling all the way back in his head.

It wasn’t long before he tore your hand off him and pinned it above your head, pushing his tip teasingly to your dripping core, “That’s enough of that, I think.” He said, broken voice betraying just how close to the edge you had brought him.

Quickly, you watched as he ripped open a condom and pulled it onto himself. Wasting no time, he gripped your hips and dragged you underneath him before pushing himself inside you. The stretch had you gasping, but he bent his forehead to yours, kissed you through it as he pushed into you. Every thrust was slow and achingly tender. His eyes rarely left yours, only to occasionally bury his face into your neck.

Anytime you suggested a different position, he shot you down, “No, no,” He’d repeat, your legs locked around his hips, “Just like this,” He’d pant, “Want you underneath me just like this.”

When he finished, you muffled his moans with your mouth, thrusting your hips up into his when the intensity of his orgasm had him unable to keep moving through the aftershocks.

Afterwards, you stared up at the ceiling fan, your head resting on his chest.

“I love you, by the way.” You murmured when you could feel yourself drifting into sleep, “Don’t know if I ever said.”

He kissed your hair and dusted his fingers over your shoulder, “You didn’t have to.”

***

2024

It was cool and cloudy in San Diego that morning. You fiddled with the ring on your finger as you stood backstage at the annual American Academy of Emergency Medicine conference.

Michael stood behind you, hands rubbing reassuring circles into your shoulders, “You’re gonna do so good, baby. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried, I could do this talk in my sleep,” You smirked, “I’m just thinking about the first time I saw you here, when you did your talk.”

He laughed behind you, “Well, it wasn’t here.”

“You know what I mean.” You said and covered one of his hands with yours.

“Yeah,” He said, “If I had known my future wife was in the audience I would’ve picked a better shirt.”

Your grin spread across your face as you looked down at the engagement ring on your finger, “And I probably wouldn’t have worn booty shorts to the airport, but hindsight is 20/20.”

He hummed and then your name was being announced, a brief intro given, and then Michael kissed you quickly before gently pushing you towards the stage.

Later, in your hotel room, the both of you were drunk and sprawled out on the bed. Your head rested on his stomach and he had an arm draped across your chest.

He picked up your left hand and inspected it, “I love seeing this on your finger. Probably should’ve proposed the first time I brought you home.”

You smirked, but there was a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that had been there since he got down on one knee.

“What’s wrong?” Robby asked, even drunk he was ever perceptive of your mood changes.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, “Everything’s perfect.”

He let a moment of silence pass, twisting the ring on your finger between his thumb and forefinger, “You know you can tell me anything, right? Nothing’s too scary or too much.”

You did know, but it didn’t stop your brain from convincing you otherwise. Eventually you swallowed and lifted yourself onto your knees so you could turn to face him.

“Do you ever think about the rate of divorce among emergency medicine doctors?”

He frowned, “Not particularly, no. But I gather you do?”

“I just—“ You sighed, “I love you, obviously, so much. But I—I wonder sometimes if… If getting married just invites the possibility of breaking this. And… And what we have is really good and I don’t—“

“Hey,” He sat up, “Slow down.” He paused, “How long have you been thinking about this?”

You sighed, “I don’t know, since you proposed, probably?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Right, okay.”

You deflated, “You’re mad.”

He shook his head, “Not mad. I just wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You could feel your abandonment fears dusting themselves off in your head. You had never felt as secure as you had with Robby. You had felt loved and safe from day one. Your fears that he would leave again, he proved over and over were unfounded. No one had ever shown up for you like this. And that made the prospect of losing him even scarier.

“Tell me more about it.” He said, “Your fears.”

You sighed, “I—It’s okay, we don’t have to. I want to marry you, I do.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” He said gently and wrapped his arms around you so he could pull you to his chest, “But we should still talk it through.”

You swallowed, “If the rate of divorce for ER doctors is so high, does the rate double when it’s two ER doctors instead of just one?”

He’s quiet a moment as he mulled it over, “You ever think that maybe an ER doctor marrying another ER doctor lowers the rate of divorce, rather than increasing it?”

“How do you figure that?”

“Both people understand the crazy schedule and the difficulties of the job. And if you’re like us and work in the same ER, you see each other day in and day out, even with that crazy schedule. Being colleagues probably increases healthy communication and conflict resolution outside the ER.”

Already, you felt soothed, “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Well I have even more compelling evidence for you.”

You smirked, “What’s that?”

“None of those ER doctors that got divorced were married to me.”

You laughed and turned in his arms so you could kiss him, “I love you.”

After a moment, you pulled away from him slightly, gears turning in your head, “How long of a drive is it to Las Vegas?”

Robby stared at you blankly until his brain began to catch up, “You’re serious?” He asked, his voice breathless.

You nodded, “I want to be your wife. Right now.”

His laugh was high and unbelieving as he ran a hand through his hair, “What about our friends and family—?”

“We can have a real wedding. Maybe a year from now, we do the whole thing right, renew our vows. But I don’t want to wait that long to be yours.”

He smiled, “You’re already mine.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Not legally. Besides, don’t you think there’s something really romantic about getting married in secret, just the two of us?”

After a moment of searching your face, probably trying to make sure this wasn’t some sort of mental break, he nodded, “Okay.” He laughed and shook his head, “Let’s get married.”

***

“The only car we have left is a manual.” The woman running the rental counter had bleached waves and thick black eyeliner. She chewed gum as she spoke, “Can either of you drive a manual?”

“Sorry,” Robby said, grin already spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand, “There’s no automatics left, is that… Did I hear you correctly? Only a manual?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Robby. To her, he probably seemed insane, “Look, can you drive a manual or not?”

He looked back at you, then, smiling and shaking his head, “Yeah, we can both drive stick.”

The two of you had walked out of the rental store, giggling and swinging your hands between each other like children.

It was a five hour drive, so you bought donuts and coffees. Once in the car, you propped your feet up on the dash and stared over at Robby, who was reacquainting himself with a manual.

“You sure you remember how to drive stick?” You asked, mouth half full of donut.

He glared over at you, but couldn’t resist breaking into a smile anyway, “It’s like riding a bike.”

Placing his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, he started the car and began backing out of the parking lot. As he peeled out and fiddled with the radio, you rolled the windows down and were surprised when tears pricked your eyes when you looked back over at him.

You thought about all the heartbreak and lonely nights the last eleven years. The times you thought you’d be alone forever, or worse, stuck in a relationship with someone who didn’t want you. You mulled over all the nights you had allowed yourself to dream about that doctor you met in Florida. A fifteen hour drive that seemed to have rearranged all the planets and constellations of your life.

He had been your north star over the last decade, always seeming to guide you back to where you were supposed to be. Which was here. In this car. Windows down as you sang along to the radio. His hand held yours as it rested on top of the gear shift. Taking you to your wedding. Taking you home.

#mine #dr robby #the pitt #the pitt x reader #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt fic #dr robby fic #dr robby smut

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wttcsms · 8 months ago

Text

talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things !!

ᝰ.ᐟ after narrowly avoiding a kaiju attack unharmed, you think you’ve gotten away unscathed until you start feeling an unfamiliar, unsatiable heat building inside of you. it’s almost similar to the funny butterflies you get in your tummy when you see your older brother’s rival, third division vice captain soshiro hoshina. and wouldn’t you know it: you just so happen to cross paths with him. ( fem!reader )

pairing soshiro hoshina x reader word count 4.8k content contains soft dom!hoshina, slight love confessions, narumi's younger + civilian sister!reader, creampie, forbidden romance-ish, you two get caught by narumi in the end, sex pollen, biting (please look at hoshina's lil fangs & tell me he ISN'T a biter) kinktober masterlist

You’re in trouble.

Gen always said you had a knack for getting yourself into situations. You always got in trouble back in school because one student would act up and make a mess, escaping in time, leaving you as the only person for the teacher to catch. Or, someone would break something in a store, and you’d be the unsuspecting customer to happen to walk down the aisle the same time the manager comes by to investigate. In a pay-it-forward chain, you naturally get stuck in front of the person with a 10-people group order, and you’ve always been too kindhearted (and people pleasing) to break the chain…

Needless to say, it isn’t that you have a knack for getting yourself into trouble. It’s just that you always happen to find yourself at the wrong place at the wrong time.

In your defense, your neighborhood isn’t just relatively safe — it’s as safe as can be. Gen’s the one who vetted it out for you in the first place, still a little annoyed that his little sister wants to play at being independent. Do you know how dangerous it is for a young woman to live alone in this city? He told you, before complaining that you’re one of the biggest headaches in his life.

He says this, but he’s the one who patrolled your neighborhood for the two weeks leading up to you moving in. He’s the one who scaled the apartment complex and made sure the security measures were up to par. He’s the one who accessed all records of nearby kaiju attacks and took in the statistical data with careful consideration before finally agreeing that you could live here. You know your older brother cares. It’s why you always try to practice caution in your everyday life. The last thing you want is to be an inconvenience for him.

This, you think nervously, goes a bit beyond a mere inconvenience.

Right in front of the gates of your well-protected, super-safe luxury apartment complex is a kaiju.

And while you and Gen might share the same genes, there are some differences between you and your older brother. The most important one right now being the fact that while he’s the captain of the First Division in the Defense Force, you’re just a civilian.

A civilian who always finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You’re not sure how long the monster’s been here, nor are you going to bother sticking around to find out. You have no clue when the Defense Force is going to dispatch, and you happen to be the only unlucky soul outside right now. The kaiju’s already detected your presence, and you fumble for the bracelet on your wrist, searching desperately for the emergency button on the wristband. Gen had gotten this custom-made for you. The minute you activate the button, Gen’s notified of your location. It’s an in-case-of-emergency-only, and you’ve never felt the need to use it before. Until now.

You take a few steps back, almost stumbling on the pavement, palming at your bracelet, letting out a sigh of relief as you find the tiny button. And then your heart drops as you realize just how bad your luck is.

The button’s jammed.

Because of course it would be.

Because you just always have to constantly be in trouble, don’t you?

The last thing you can think about before your impending doom is that you hope Gen won’t be too upset. Everyone thinks your older brother is childish and sometimes hard to deal with, but you know him best. If only you were a bit more like him; maybe then you wouldn’t feel so resigned to your fate.

“[Name]? Whaddya doin’?” Casually dropping by — no, literally dropping onto the pavement — is none other than Third Division Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina.

On one hand, you’re happy he’s here. You are definitely not dying today. On the other hand… Why did it have to be him of all people? It’s one thing to have a near-death experience, but to have it in front of your longtime crush? You honestly wished the kaiju got a hit on you. Nothing fatal; just enough to have you in a coma, or better yet, turn you into an amnesiac so you never have to relive this moment in your memories.

“H-Hoshina?” You squeak out. He gives you a concerned look before turning all of his attention to the kaiju, brandishing his swords in one swift, fluid movement.

You’ve seen footage of Hoshina fighting before, even going out of your way to search up news footage of the Third Division’s missions just to catch a glimpse of the Vice Captain. You’re used to the way Gen fights; hard and fast, sometimes a bit flashy. He’s hard to miss when he’s hauling his almost cartoonishly big bayonet attached to his massive rifle. Maybe it’s crush bias, but you admire the way Hoshina fights. With him, he’s all lithe muscle and agility. There’s a sort of beauty to the way he fights, moving like a dancer, every arc and stroke of his twin blades purposeful.

Despite the size of the beast in front of you, a muscular mass of pink and purple flesh, Hoshina makes quick work of it. So quick, in fact, that he doesn’t think to consult the command and support center as he digs his blades into its body, landing fatal cuts that take down the kaiju—

—and allowing its massive body to emit a strange violet gas that quickly starts to spread all over the scene. The scent of it is sickeningly sweet, and it overwhelms you.

Eyes wide, Hoshina sprints to your side, tugging at his own mask as if he’s about to force you to put it on, but you shake your head. You’re coughing, inhaling the mysterious vapor the now-dead kaiju is emitting, but you feel fine enough to start walking to the gate of your apartment.

“Fuck.” Hoshina curses, rushing to your side, gripping your left arm as you finish punching in the gate code. “Hey, are you hurt anywhere? D’you feel weird, funny, anything?”

His concern for you is making you feel embarrassed, but it’s not like that’s the answer he’s searching for.

“I’m fine, really.” You force a smile. “I’m safe now, all thanks to you. I’m sure Gen’s going to have a lot to say about this.” You roll your eyes, trying to lighten the mood, but Hoshina’s red eyes are staring deep into your own. He’s not laughing. In fact, this is one of the rare moments where you’ve ever seen the Vice Captain so serious.

“Let me walk ya up to your apartment, at least. Just in case somethin’ happens.”

You want to tell him that you’re pretty sure there’s no other kaijus lurking around in the hallway of your complex, ready to strike, but you can tell he’s stubborn. And besides, later at night, when you’re all alone and falling asleep to fantasies about a world where Soshiro Hoshina likes you just as much as you like him, you’ll romanticize the fuck out of him being so concerned for your safety.

Because at the end of the day, it’s Hoshina’s job to protect the defenseless citizens like you. He’d do this for any other person who has bad luck like you. It’s not like he’s walking you back, concerned for your safety, purely because it’s you.

Following your string of bad luck is the fact that the elevators are currently out of order. Fantastic.

You turn to him. “Um, I don’t really think walking up almost a dozen flight of stairs is in your job description. You can just leave me here, really! I’ll even call my brother, just in case you think something bad might happen to me in the five minutes you leave me alone.”

“Don’t be silly, Junior.” This time, Hoshina does flash you his normal, teasing smile. The one that you fell head over heels for back on the primary school playground. The gesture is enough to make you almost ignore the way he brings up that stupid nickname. Junior. Narumi Junior — that’s who you are to him. His rival’s annoying little sister, always faithfully trailing behind her older brother, never saying a word when Gen starts throwing insults his way. “Just ‘cause I’m not captain of the First Division doesn’t mean I can’t handle a few flight of stairs. Ya doubtin’ me?”

You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. Hoshina’s just being nice, you tell yourself. And you have to keep repeating this mantra in your head as you dutifully follow a step behind him on the stairs.

You’ve noticed it before, but you’ve never been this close up ‘til now. Hoshina’s uniform fits him very well. The black fabric of the suit only serves to emphasize the lean muscles he’s spent years training, his Defense Force-issued boots only serve to announce every step he takes, even the gas mask he wears to protect himself — all of it just suits him so well.

You try to ignore the flicker of heat lighting up your core, something a little bit more intense than the little flutter of butterflies you normally get when you’re next to Hoshina. You just have to make it back to your apartment, you reason. You’ll make it back to your apartment, and you can lay down on your bed, and then you’ll have all the time in the world to think about how nice Hoshina looks in his uniform, and how special you feel that he’s personally escorting you home.

But the growing heat within you becomes harder to ignore, and you can’t quite control your labored breaths, not from the walk upstairs but from the fact that you truly do feel hot. Hot, and dizzy, and downright desperate for some relief. Something isn’t right, you realize. And Hoshina catches on quick, too, especially when your knees buckle and you nearly fall until he catches you in his arms.

He says your name so seriously, you’re almost snapped out of whatever weird daze you’re in. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” His eyes scan your weakened body before pulling you closer to him. In a second, he’s lifting you up, carrying you bridal style as he starts to sprint up the stairs. You know there’s a time and place for everything, but you can’t help but admire the fact that Hoshina can carry you while running up several stories and he’s not even breaking a sweat.

The thought of this makes your core grow warmer, and you wriggle a bit in his hold.

“We’re almost to your apartment, don’t worry.” He reassures you, tightening his grip on you. Hoshina is holding you so close to him that with every inhale, you breathe him in. He smells of musky cologne and something familiar from your childhood, like mochi and other sweets. It’s a funny mix, but it suits him. You find yourself snuggling even closer to him, and if you were in your right state of mind, you would be screaming at yourself for being so bold. But the heat inside of you, it’s seeking him out.

“I need your key, [Name].” He tells you, and despite the way he’s clearly in a rush, he’s still patient and sweet with you.

You shamelessly bury the front of your face into his chest, trying to avoid him as you admit, “I must’ve dropped it.”

He swears, but it’s not at you. “That’s okay.” He tells you, even though you’re proving to be a very inconvenient girl. “Hey, who pays for this apartment?”

“Gen.” You sheepishly admit. You offered to pay the rent, but he’s the one who chose the insanely expensive penthouse for you. One of you is making a Captain-level salary, and it’s damn sure not you. It only makes sense he’d cover rent.

“Good.” Hoshina says, before promptly kicking open your door.

And again, time and place for everything, but you can’t help but get a little too excited at his show of strength.

Hoshina sets you down gently on your bed, frowning as he takes you in.

“What’s the matter? You need to tell me how you’re feelin’, or else I can’t help you, okay?”

Hoshina’s being so gentle with you, it’s enough to make your heart soar and ache all at once. He leans down, pressing a cool hand to your forehead. You must feel normal enough, because he doesn’t make a comment, even though you feel like you’re burning up.

You know what’s the matter.

You want Soshiro Hoshina in a way a woman wants a man.

“...hot…” You finally mutter out, squirming on top of your sheets. “I‘m hot.”

“Hot?” Hoshina’s confused for a few seconds, until he watches the way you press your thighs together, your tiny fingers tugging at your clothes, the way you bite down on the bottom of your lip before peering up at him curiously, trying to see if he understands you.

It hits him all at once. A kaiju that’s a blend of pink and purple, the sweet scent its gas emitted. This is a rare type of kaiju; the one that boosts one’s pheromones, turns its victim delirious with lust. The only way to help, really, is for the affected person to be truly satiated.

He knows it’s wrong to think of Narumi’s little sister like this, but Hoshina would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about you writhing on a bed, wantonly calling out his name, begging for him to give you relief that you can’t find from anyone else. He dreams about it, really. Not just the sex, but everything that encompasses taking care of you. He wants to make sure that you’re always well taken care of, always safe, always protected. This isn’t the Third Divison’s territory, y’know. But between patrol breaks, Hoshina finds himself around your neighborhood just on the off chance that something bad happens. It’s a good thing he was there today.

And it’s his lucky day, he thinks, that he’s here with you now.

No other man would treat you as well. No other man would be able to satiate you.

“Let me help you, baby.” The pet name rolls off easily on his tongue. He’s so used to teasing you, careful to avoid saying your name too much. He saves his reverent groans of your name for when he’s pumping his cock in the darkness of his room. “I know exactly what you need.”

“Hoshina.” You moan out, and he swallows hard at how desperate you sound for him. “I need you so bad.”

“It’s the kaiju.” He mutters, getting on the bed with you, balancing himself on his knees. He’s towering over you from this angle, and you look up at him. “The kaiju’s gas acts as a… bit of a sex pollen, really. And I can help ya combat the effects, but I— I can’t take advantage of ya. You’re Narumi’s precious lil’ sister. It’d be wrong.” He’s trying to talk some sense, but you’re immediately frowning.

“Nuh uh.” You whine out, pouting. And it’s thanks to the kaiju that you have lowered your inhibitions, because you would never admit this out loud otherwise. “I always want Vice Captain Hoshina like this.”

Fuck. You know just how to drive a man crazy.

“Usin’ my title?” He grins, leaning down to get his face closer to yours. “Good girl. Ya mind your manners, don’t ya?”

And he rewards you with a kiss.

The kiss turns hungry, desperate. You’re tilting your head up a bit to try to capture his lips some more, even though the two of you are already as close as can be. You two are a mess of tongue and teeth by the time you have to struggle for oxygen, and as he reluctantly pulls back, there’s even a thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you.

“So, ya always wanted me, huh?” The thought that the girl of his dreams could possibly want him as much as he wants her turns him on like nothing else. He must be dreaming, he decides. And then he thinks, he doesn’t fucking care if this is a dream or not. If he gets to fuck you boneless, then he trusts in himself to never wake up. “Whaddya like about me so much?”

He’s just teasing you now. He’s always teasing you. It’s what he’s good at. You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you shyly admit, “I’ve always liked you. Even before you got the fancy uniform and your rank. You’re funny and sweet and you care about others.” Even in your sex-focused mind, the genuine feelings you harbor for Hoshina shine through. This catches him off guard.

You might be under the effects of the kaiju’s vapor, but the sweet girl he’s fallen for is still laying down right underneath him. It’s not just lust for you. There’s genuine love.

“Fuck, I’m gonna treat you so well.” He peppers kisses all over your face; your cheeks, your eyelids, your jawline, teasing you ‘til he finally, finally, plants a kiss on your swollen lips again.

He makes quick work of your clothes, committing the sight of your bare body to his memory. He tells you you’re beautiful, and he means it. You want to tell him to stop trying to charm you, but then he’s immediately going down on you, digging his fingers into the plush of your thighs as he spreads them apart, forcing you to open yourself up to him.

You’re caught off guard, but your body screams in relief as you watch Hoshina get eye-level with your cunt. He licks his lips before glancing up at you.

“Such a cute pussy my lil’ civvie baby has.” Civvie — Hoshina never lets you forget that you’re a civilian, but you don’t know it yet (you will, eventually), but Hoshina’s never actually been bothered about this fact. Actually, he takes pride in the idea that he’ll be the one to take care of you, the one to keep you safe.

Right now, though, he’s tasked with being the one who makes sure you’re satiated.

You have the prettiest pussy Hoshina’s ever, and as his mouth descends onto your waiting heat, he determines that you’ve got the sweetest taste, too. You let out cute, little mewls that only motivate him to devour you some more, and he groans into your pussy as he laps at your arousal, your juices seeming to never stop flowing.

Your body arches up, and Hoshina has to apply pressure to his grip on your thighs, to force you back down so he can continue licking at your cunt at his own hungry pace. When bucking your hips fails, you find yourself losing control of your body, your legs spasming, your thighs clamping down on his head. Your fingers tangle themselves into the thick, dark strands of Hoshina’s hair, and he thinks you’re trying to suffocate him with your pussy.

What a way to go, honestly.

He manages to lift his head up, cheeks flushed from the heat in between your thighs, chin and lips wet with your juices. “Ahh.” He smacks his lips, licking up traces of your slick that his tongue can reach. “My civvie has the sweetest pussy in the world.” He inserts a finger into your wet hole, and you literally yelp. Your walls hungrily clamp down on his single digit, and he laughs.

“D’ya want more?” He sounds innocent enough, almost as if he isn’t leisurely fucking you with one finger. “‘Cause I can give ya more. All ya have to do is ask.”

“Pl-ease.” The word comes out in broken syllables. You clutch at his bicep, nails digging into the material of his combat suit. It’s because he still has his uniform on that he can’t really feel you.

“Who are ya askin’?” He teases, pumping his finger at the same agonizingly slow pace he’s been giving you. You keep clenching around him, your body making it obvious who you’re hungry for.

“I-I’m asking Vice Captain Hos— Soshiro.”

You say his title, and he feels himself tightening in his combat suit. You say his name, and his heart nearly skips a beat.

Oh, he’ll give you everything he’s got, now.

The intrusion of three fingers inside your cunt catches you off guard, and he swallows up that shocked moan of yours by slotting his mouth against yours, kissing you with a vigorous passion that has you realizing that maybe Soshiro just might like you back.

He spreads his fingers while they’re buried deep inside your cunt, trying to desperately stretch out your pussy, get you nice and wet and ready to take his cock.

“Ah! Wait! No, ‘Shiro, please!” You protest as he pulls his fingers out, licking and savoring the taste of your essence. You were about to cum, and he knew it.

He plants a rather chaste kiss on your forehead before telling you, “You hafta ask me to cum, okay? Can my little civvie baby get that in her head?”

You nod weakly, sniffling a bit as you’re disappointed from your stolen orgasm.

“Hey,” he taps on your cunt gently, but with just enough firm pressure to make you understand you have to look at him, to listen to his commands. “When your Vice Captain tells ya somethin’, ya need to answer. Where’s my baby’s manners?”

“S-sorry, Vice Captain.” You look up at him, teary-eyed. “Can I please cum?”

“Aw, you’re askin’ me so sweetly, it’s hard to say no to you.” But from the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, it’s clear what his answer is. “But today, you’re only gonna be able to cum all over my cock.”

Hoshina makes no effort to take off his clothes fully. The uniform that you admire him in is only being pulled out of the way rather than completely off. Hoshina messes with the bottom half, pulling at the suit until he can free his cock. He’s already hard, and he pumps his cock a few times, using the fingers covered in his spit and your slick to act as lube.

“See how hard your Vice Captain is? My little civvie got me all fired up.” There’s a feral, crazed look in his eyes as he stares down at you, at how your legs are spread and your pussy is so wet. “This is what you wanted the whole time, huh? You wanted to be stuffed full of my cock. Poor baby.” His tone is mocking, but it only makes your hole clench at nothing. You’re so heartbreakingly empty of him that you’ll do anything to make sure he gives you what he promised. “I know, you must be all hot and bothered right now. Pussy so empty, waitin’ for me, huh?”

You nod, tears streaming down your face. Hoshina chuckles at the sight. He hasn’t even fucked you properly yet, and you’re already a mess. Fuck, he loves you so much.

When he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, your pussy is instantly swallowing him up, greedy for more of him. So he gives in, because the two of you have clearly been wanting and waiting for this for so long, why bother dragging it out any further?

“A-ah.” Your legs are trembling as your pussy engulfs more and more of Hoshina’s thick cock. “It’s too big.” You whine out, more tears falling as you take him in completely, his whole entire cock buried deep inside of you, throbbing impatiently, insisting that he pins you down and fucks you hard and fast.

“It’ll be okay.” He reassures you, rubbing comforting circles on your hip. “I’ll make ya feel so good. Ya just gotta relax for me, baby. Remember? You’re the one who wanted this so badly.” He coos, moving his hand to rub at your clit, the little nub hardening for him. “Good girl, atta girl, that’s my precious civvie. Doin’ so good for me; I knew you would.” He praises you when he feels you start to move your hips a bit, begging for movement now, and he kisses your cheek when he feels your pussy yielding to his cock. “I’m going to fuck you now, baby.”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“You feel so good.” He grunts this directly in your ear, which rewards him with a cute little whimper from you, and the feel of your pussy clamping down on him, tightening and preening at the praise. He’s holding himself up by his elbows, his face so close to your own as he fucks you, just like how he promised he would. It’s sweetly intimate this way, and you love it. He can tell.

“Your pussy feels so good around my cock. So tight. So fuckin’ wet.” His thrusts are deep, powerful. His cock seems to reach into the depths of your pussy, and you don’t think you’ll ever recover. You don’t think you want to.

You curl your arms around his neck, bringing him even closer to you. Your string of moans and broken sobs of his name haven’t stopped flowing from your lips, and the pleasure is so overwhelming, so good, so Hoshina. You don’t realize what he’s planning on doing until it’s too late. He licks at the soft skin between your shoulder and neck, deciding which spot he wants to mark up first, before taking his sharp canines, the ones you love so much, and digging them deep into your flesh.

“Ah!” The pain bleeds in with the pleasure. The sting of his bite is heightened when he nuzzles your neck with his nose endearingly, almost as an apology, before he bites down in a different spot. Marking his territory.

It feels so good in such a foreign way, you forget what your Vice Captain told you. If you want to cum, you have to ask. But he’s making you feel so good, your climax comes without warning. Your walls tighten up around him, and he can feel you, can feel you creaming around his cock like the dirty, disobedient girl you are.

“What did I tell ya?” He growls, looking down at where the two of you are connected. He pulls out a bit, just to stare at the ring of white encircling his cock. “Hm?” He takes a hand to grab at your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Is my little civvie so fucked dumb her brain doesn’t work anymore? I thought I told ya that if you wanted to cum, you better ask my permission.”

“I’m s-sorry!” You gasp out. “B-but you made me feel… Felt too good, I didn’t know I was going to!” You’re crying again now, and he almost feels bad. Instead, he likes this power he has over you, and he’s back to being his usual, teasing and mocking self.

“Aw, did I break you?” He coos sweetly, pounding into your pussy with a fervor he hasn’t exhibited before. Your eyes widen when you realize he still has on his combat suit. He’s drawing out his strength from the suit, using it to fuck into you even harder. “S’okay, baby. No need to cry. I’m not mad at ya.”

His hips stutter when he’s ready to finish. His thrusts falter in its usual pinpoint precise movements, and he drags your body towards him, pushing you deep onto his cock as he groans out your name. The heat of his cum fills your twitching, sensitive cunt, and you think you could probably cum again just from the pleasure of having Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina fill you up.

“Ah, fuck.” He breathes out, leaning his forehead against your own, panting a bit, his chest rising and falling. “You drive me crazy, ya know that?”

You let out a weak giggle, equally breathless. Your mind feels a lot clearer now, the heat within you subsiding greatly. You wrap your legs around his slim waist, refusing to let him go even though he refuses to leave you in the first place. He looks like he’s about to say something until a familiar, booming voice comes from the front of your apartment.

“[Name]?” Gen calls out, his footsteps indicating that he’s coming closer. “[Name], where are you?”

Your eyes widen in shock and fear, the cute afterglow of the moment officially ruined, all thanks to your annoying older brother. Hoshina is quick when he pulls the covers of your bed over your naked body, and he’s adjusting his combat suit as Gen makes it to your bedroom.

You shut your eyes, not wanting to witness the expression on your brother’s face.

“Oh, Narumi.” Hoshina says brightly. “Funny runnin’ into you here.”

#soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 x reader #kn8 x you #hoshina smut #smut #drabble #one shot #imagine #hoshina soshirou #kn8 smut #kinktober 2024 #hoshina soushirou x reader #hoshina soushirou

1K notes · View notes

fortunxa · 5 months ago

Text

streamer!Jinx (x reader) / modern AU (duh)

H E A D C A N O N S

—INCLUDES!

➤ x (fem!)reader

➤ x streamer!reader

contents: like one or two suggestive mentions, mentions of doxxing

author's note: chat!! @myrruwrites has officially motivated me to finish this draft, so PLEASE go check out their streamer!Jinx posts (more hcs here and fic here)!!! or really any post in general :P

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx in general

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who started streaming just for fun, not thinking much of it, and gets overwhelmed when her account starts gaining traction. She still doesn’t know if she likes it or not. Some days, she feels on top of the world; on others, it just makes her feel awkward.

⭑.ᐟ She mostly streams in her pajamas or other comfy clothes. On rare occasions, she’s wearing her rave outfit (smudged makeup, body paint, and all) because she didn’t change when she got back home and impulsively decided to stream. (rave girl!Jinx when?)

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who’s canceled every other week. She has no filter, nor does she care. She continues streaming, groaning loudly in annoyance if the chat brings up her latest controversy one too many times.

⭑.ᐟ Constantly arguing with kids if they annoy her. It was so over the moment Roblox added the mic feature. Her account almost got banned. She still does not care.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets hilariously pouty at hate comments. She’s offended and does a bad job at hiding it.

– “Okay, so like… what IS wrong with my pants? Just out of curiosity, not that I care or whatever.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who knows she’s pretty but gets annoyed if someone comments on her appearance. It weirds her out. On the other hand, she’s also oblivious to how attractive she looks doing mundane things. (*cough* manspreading *cough*)

⭑.ᐟ She bans people on the spot for causing her the smallest of inconveniences. She’s on a power trip.

– “This is MY kingdom.”

⭑.ᐟ Her monitors are surrounded by post-it notes with random doodles, unfinished cryptic to-do lists, and stream ideas she quickly jotted down.

find a duck. real 1 this time

paint the thing spray paint purple 1st

buy more spray paint (green, pink, PURPLE)

get snacks (for her + me) + wires bolts

scope out the alley

test run #3

finish gift hehe

don’t forget to

⭑.ᐟ Contrary to popular belief, Jinx is a Redbull kind of girl, and her desk is proof of that. She used to be a Monster Energy fan, but she drank so much of it throughout the years that it made her sick.

⭑.ᐟ She constantly “improves” or “upgrades” her streaming gear with scraps from old tech. Some of it will be homemade, too.

⭑.ᐟ Her webcam is cracked, which makes the quality so shit that it brings a tear to her viewers’ eyes, so they beg her to get a proper one. She finally relents.

– “Here, damn. You guys are so spoiled. Now pay up since y’all wanted it so bad.”

‘omg the world is healing’

‘feels like getting new glasses’

‘this is a moment in history’

⭑.ᐟ Her mic quality fluctuates. Sometimes, it’s crisp; sometimes, it picks up loud static due to her “improvements.” It also completely cuts off if she screams too loud.

⭑.ᐟ Any gear she buys will be automatically customized the Jinx way: doodles upon doodles and paint splatters.

⭑.ᐟ She has a soundboard that features sound effects like classic explosions, the vine boom sound, the Among Us role reveal, the FNAF hallway sound, “YIPPEEE!”, the snoring man, a laughing track, clown circus music, and the Samsung “Morning flower” alarm (cursed version) amongst many others.

⭑.ᐟ Her webcam is tilted at weird angles half the time because she keeps bumping it while moving around.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx whose wifi cuts out way too often, and she blames it on “the government trying to stop her chaos”.

⭑.ᐟ Her streams never start on time. She either doesn’t acknowledge it or gives an over-the-top excuse. Viewers think she’s lying when she says she had to diffuse the toaster (she’s not).

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who loves clickbait titles. Plot twist: no one knows if it’s actual clickbait or if she’s serious when she writes “strapping fireworks to my chair :D”.

⭑.ᐟ She either streams with every. single. one. of her neon lights on (flashbanging new viewers in the process) or have no light at all, with her monitor illuminating ONLY her face in a way that makes it look like a dark web livestream.

⭑.ᐟ She’s so inconsistent with her streaming that her viewers never know when and if she’ll stream again. She randomly stops updating on her socials, too.

‘guys i think this might be it for her’

‘ho is u dead???’

<livestream notification> “SURPRISE, LOSERS—I’m (a)live! Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

‘omg she’s back’

‘diva is alive!!!’

– “You doubted me? You DOUBTED ME?!”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who jumps between topics, games, and rants with no warning, leaving her viewers dizzy but entertained. Fans with ADHD love her.

⭑.ᐟ IF (by miracle) she runs out of things to talk about or gets bored with a game, she turns to her viewers.

– “Entertain me, jesters.”

⭑.ᐟ Her streams (suddenly) switch from hyperactive fun, where she’s practically bouncing in her chair, to intense focus, where she just glares at her screen with determination.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who pranks her chat constantly. She’ll cut the video feed to show a jumpscare, laughing in the background while her viewers are freaking out.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who pranks other streamers by sending her viewers over for a raid.

– “You just got jinxed!”

⭑.ᐟ Occasionally refers to her chat as the “Boom Crew” or “Jinxlings”.

⭑.ᐟ She reads the chat at lightning speed (most of the time she’ll misread it, too), responds to every third comment, and gets distracted mid-sentence.

⭑.ᐟ Her community is riddled with inside jokes like “press F for Sharky”. Sharky being her shark plushie, of course.

⭑.ᐟ Her mods barely keep up with the chaos in her chat. Occasionally, Jinx disables moderation completely and declares “anarchy hours.”

⭑.ᐟ She creates characters to embody on stream. “Sergeant Boom”, a gruff explosives expert, or “Miss Mayhem”, a villain plotting world domination. She commits to the bit so hard that she confuses new viewers.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who’s a sore loser, and it doesn’t help when the chat is roasting the shit out of her after. 10000% rage quits and/or slams her keyboard. But she’s not above cheating to win, either—will call other cheaters out, though, genuinely crashing out.

– “Chat, what the FUCK, that’s not fair! It totally lagged!”

– “I’m literally never playing this shit again.” (spoiler: she plays this shit again).

⭑.ᐟ Her IRL streams would be infamous for their unpredictability. One moment, she’s exploring back alleys, and the next, she’s setting off fireworks in a parking lot. Don’t ask if it’s empty.

“Popular streamer arrested for destruction of property.”

⭑.ᐟ She once took her viewers to one of her graffiti sessions and encouraged the audience to vote on the designs.

“Popular streamer arrested for spray painting ‘obscene’ graffiti.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who disappears for a week after that, only to come back all pissy.

– “Chat, I’m on probation… I guess.”

⭑.ᐟ She has the most cursed keybinds imaginable. But hey, they work for her.

⭑.ᐟ “Jinx’s workshop”: a recurring segment where she tinkers with random gadgets on stream.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who sets off confetti after each bit/donation.

⭑.ᐟ She disappears mid-stream and comes back in a shark onesie. She doesn’t acknowledge it.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who puts her shark plushie in the middle of her chair if she has to take a break, leaving her headset on it.

– “Alright, Sharky’s taking over.” Sharky’s head is barely peeking out from under the desk, but he’s chill.

⭑.ᐟ For a girl as agile as her, she trips over her setup or falls off her chair a little too often. Yes, there is a compilation. Yes, she does react to it on stream and laughs so hard she tips her chair again.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, every now and then, drops her chaotic persona to thank her viewers for their support only to laugh it off right after. Or she’ll surprise them with genuine insight/advice.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who starts venting in the middle of her stream. Sometimes, it’s pure angry nonsense; sometimes, she gets so emotional that she just suddenly ends the stream. She comes back some time later, acting like nothing happened and gaslighting her viewers into thinking it was part of a skit.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who announces every game dramatically. (yes, like that one scene with the monkey mic)

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who occasionally plays bootleg versions of popular games just to make her viewers suffer through them with her.

⭑.ᐟ She absolutely, 100%, modded her sims game. She also locked up sims in the basement and/or took the ladder from the pool.

⭑.ᐟ She plays Among Us just to leave the server if she doesn’t get impostor.

⭑.ᐟ Fortnite and Minecraft are her holy grail. Also enjoys Call of Duty, Overwatch, Apex Legends, Fall Guys, Garry’s Mod, and she’s an absolute menace in GTA V. Definitely a FNAF girl.

⭑.ᐟ Roblox?? Oh, she’s ON. Put her in the horror games. She’s screaming and laughing, bouncing on her chair (her energy’s infectious).

⭑.ᐟ She enjoys watching the fatalities in Mortal Kombat a little too much.

⭑.ᐟ She tried VR a few times and nearly took out her entire setup with how much she was flailing around.

⭑.ᐟ Don’t ask her to play choice-based games. She will intentionally choose the worst option possible just to watch it all burn.

⭑.ᐟ Absolutely hates narrative games (with few exceptions). She can’t keep up with the story (because she skips dialogues and cutscenes) and quits if the plot takes too long to develop. She never remembers the characters’ names either, so she’ll just rename them.

– “Blah, blah, blah… Boooooring. Next!” She then dramatically presses the skip button. “Wait, guys, who’s the dude again? I swear he looks sooo familiar.”

‘that’s the mc’s dad’

‘just put the fries in the bag…’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, despite the fact that she’s creative, has no official merch—only fan-made one with slogans like “I survived Jinx’s stream”.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who ends her streams by shooting finger guns at her webcam. The feed cuts off right after the “pew”.

BONUS: just gamer!Jinx who owns a Nintendo Switch and a Nintendo DS which she decorated with cute little stickers and charms. They’re her babies—she carries one or the other at all times.

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx x (fem!)reader

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tried to keep your relationship private at first, but she just couldn’t contain her excitement. She wanted to show you off. She introduced you as her “partner in crime” and then corrected herself to “partner in love” (because she’s cheesy like that).

⭑.ᐟ She loves dragging you into her streams. It doesn’t matter what she’s doing. Bonus: the viewers adore your dynamic.

– “I’m just happier when she’s here.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx whose chat spams “SUMMON THE GF”. Sometimes it works.

⭑.ᐟ The viewers asked her about you so much the first time you didn’t appear on stream with her that she ended up jokingly saying, “I got dumped.” They rioted, and you walked in to smack her upside the head.

⭑.ᐟ You try to warn her against some of her ideas. Most of the time, she goes through with them anyway and is 100% surprised when they backfire.

‘JINX NO’

‘LISTEN TO HER’

‘JINX DON’T DO THAT’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who genuinely starts tweaking if you get any hate comments (to the point of wanting to dox people) (she did dox people).

⭑.ᐟ You mute her mic mid-sentence if you feel like she’s about to say something controversial that will inevitably get her in trouble.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets a second webcam just to capture your reactions. This also becomes a compilation, and she keeps rewatching it, giggling to herself (kicking her feet).

⭑.ᐟ She also randomly giggles at something off-camera—chat instantly assumes it’s because of you.

⭑.ᐟ She constantly talks/brags about you even when you’re not there, and she visibly lights up when she does. She makes chat say thank you for every act of service.

– “She made me pancakes before the stream. Chocolate chip ones. Take that, losers.”

– “She’s keeping me hydrated like a little plant. Say thank you, Jinxlings.”

– “She’s making me dinner after this stream. Wifey or what?”

⭑.ᐟ She also “complains” when you care about her health. She says you’re bullying her into it.

– “She told me to actually sleep last night. Can you believe that?”

– “She cut me some fruits. Even the grapes, for fuck’s sake! What am I, a toddler?” ….. “They’re good… I guess…”

⭑.ᐟ Going back to her having a soundboard, she uses the “YIPPEEE!” sound effect whenever you enter the room.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who gets easily distracted when you’re doing something off-camera.

– “Chat, did you see that? She’s so perfect, ugh.”

– “I literally just made the bed.”

‘she’s down bad’

‘u guys make me sick’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who notices that you fell asleep off-camera, so she shushes her chat and tries to whisper for the rest of the stream. Cue her raging/cheering silently, biting her fist so she won’t scream.

⭑.ᐟ She casually flirts with you on stream.

– “Who needs a win streak when I already won at life, huh?”

– “How am I supposed to focus when you’re sitting there looking like that?”

‘ew’

‘get a room’

– “We have one. Guess what happens in it,” she just replies with a smug grin.

⭑.ᐟ No shame, no filter 2.0.

– “Stream’s late ‘cause I was in pound town.”

– “JINX!”

– “What? They’re the ones all up in our business.”

⭑.ᐟ Physical affection also doesn’t end when she’s streaming. If anything, it makes it even better for her when people are watching. She has you in her lap whenever she can, and she melts at every little peck you give her.

⭑.ᐟ She claims that you’re her stream mascot (other than Sharky, of course).

⭑.ᐟ She calls you her lucky charm and demands a good luck kiss before each match or boss fight. If you don’t give it to her (why would you do that? give the pretty girl a kiss), she will (jokingly) blame you if she loses.

⭑.ᐟ You will sometimes pick out fun outfits to wear on stream together, like themed costumes, matching accessories, or cosplays (and Jinx refuses to break character the entirety of the stream). You once dressed up as each other.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tries to do a cute “heart hands” moment, but she gets distracted and ends up making a weird shape instead.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who constantly forgets to unmute herself after ranting to you off-camera.

‘ho is u muted’

‘UNMUTE’

‘is she muted or just broke her mic fr this time’

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who tries to impress you with ridiculous in-game stunts.

– “Babe, watch this!” She then proceeds to set off some explosives, blowing up her character in the process. “…That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

⭑.ᐟ She immediately turns to you for comfort when she rage quits.

⭑.ᐟ You step in to calm her down during an intense or frustrating gameplay, usually by playing with her hair or tracing patterns on her back.

– “Alright, chaos queen, deep breath. You got this.”

⭑.ᐟ You once changed Jinx’s sub alert to say, “SUBSCRIBE SO JINX CAN AFFORD A FUNCTIONING BRAIN.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who made you one of her mods for a day. You nearly lost your mind. Safe to say you quit.

– “Babe, as much as I love you, this feels like running a daycare… if the daycare was on fire… and the kids had guns. Matter of fact, forget the daycare. This feels like the purge.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who, instead of upgrading her setup, spends the money she gains on her projects or on spoiling you. She got you a Nintendo that matches hers with games like Animal Crossing for you to unwind.

⭑.ᐟ She texts you updates like “broke my keyboard again. love you!!!!!!!!!! :p”

⭑.ᐟ She takes pride in teaching you how to play some of her favorite games. It’s even better when she sees you making actual progress and gaining skills.

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes, you both forget obvious things in the game, resulting in chat calling you “dumb and dumber”.

‘birds of a feather flock together’

‘one brain cell between them’

‘i think they lost said brain cell’

⭑.ᐟ She loves it when you play competitive games together, but if you think she’s going easy on you, you’d be dead wrong. She will throw the blue shell at you in Mario Kart with no remorse.

⭑.ᐟ SOMETIMES, she lets you win but in the worst possible way (like jumping off the map dramatically).

⭑.ᐟ Playing It Takes Two together, and it’s an absolute shitshow (but at least it’s funny).

⭑.ᐟ You create in-game versions of each other in customization games, and she’s definitely made you both in The Sims. She even gave you cats.

⭑.ᐟ steamer!Jinx who once started a stream, forgetting you were in the other room waiting for her. You came in to get her, pouting.

‘L+ratio+forgotten gf’

‘jinx you’re a dick’

⭑.ᐟ Co-op cooking streams where Jinx inevitably burns something.

⭑.ᐟ Crafting stream!!! But Jinx accidentally glued her hand to something, so now you have to help her.

⭑.ᐟ Doing each other’s nails/makeup on stream or simply painting (on) one another.

⭑.ᐟ Chill streams (and by that I mean just sitting around and talking) are a rarity, and they only happen if you’re around. She dislikes personal questions during Q&A’s but absolutely loves answering those concerning your relationship (doesn’t necessarily answer truthfully, though. She loves making up crazy stories about how you both met; the audience is still unsure which version is true).

BONUS: the “do my hair and Q&A” hc by @myrruwrites lives in my head rent free. I repeat: go check out their post.

⭑.ᐟ She livestreams some of your road trips.

– “This is totally our couple adventure arc.”

⭑.ᐟ She once streamed her planning a surprise for you. You weren’t home when you got the stream notification, and you joined it, curious to see what she was up to. She was so lost in her own world that she didn’t notice you until the surprise was spoiled.

– “Hey, who snitched? Y’all suck.”

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who wakes you up in the middle of the night to share her stream content ideas.

⭑.ᐟ Or she wakes you up by playing too loudly, and you have to physically drag her to bed.

⭑.ᐟ She just lays across you like a cat on off-days while watching dumb videos.

⭑.ᐟ You both rewatch her funniest stream moments together before bed, laughing at all the dumb things she said and cheering loudly at her clutch wins.

⭑.ᐟ streamer!Jinx who signs off streams with a sly grin, saying, “Alright, I’m off to bother my girlfriend now”.

── ⟢ streamer!Jinx x streamer!reader

⭑.ᐟ Everyone knows you’re dating (no matter how much you tried to hide it at first), so you have a shared fanbase.

⭑.ᐟ Your streaming room is divided. It may seem like a bad idea considering the chaotic energy she brings to her streams, but she enjoys having you close by. You’re used to the noise anyway.

⭑.ᐟ Matching setups!!!!

⭑.ᐟ You make sure that Jinx has everything she needs before her stream, while she hypes you up before yours.

⭑.ᐟ Her crashing out in the background of your streams is such a recurring thing that it ends up becoming a meme.

⭑.ᐟ She once got caught humming softly to herself in the background of your stream which made the chat go absolutely wild.

‘JINX SOFT ARC’

‘i cannot believe my ears’

‘wait so she’s normal?’

⭑.ᐟ She frequently sends her viewers over to raid your stream with a message that says, “TELL HER I LOVE HER”.

⭑.ᐟ She takes over your stream when you take a bathroom break, or she’ll just lean into the mic and whisper, “Chat, she’s like SO pretty” before running away like a gremlin.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx once hacked into your stream settings just to change the title to something cursed or extra cheesy.

⭑.ᐟ She crashes your stream if she’s bored with hers.

⭑.ᐟ Reacting to fanfics together. It starts sickeningly sweet, only to crash and burn once Jinx starts picking the wilder ones.

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes you manage to have a chill, rainy-day stream together where you play cozy games.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx “accidentally” friendly fires you in shooters and then apologizes dramatically.

⭑.ᐟ She also “accidentally” finds you in online games. She swears she’s not stream-sniping, but no one believes her.

⭑.ᐟ She leaves heart-shaped patterns in Minecraft or Fortnite for you to find.

⭑.ᐟ Automatically teaming up against everyone else in multiplayer lobbies.

⭑.ᐟ You get assigned to opposite teams? It’s either cutthroat and tests your relationship, or you’re helping each other out (much to your teammates’ dismay).

⭑.ᐟ Although she’s known for streaming late herself, she whines if you do the same, claiming she can’t sleep without you (half-true).

⭑.ᐟ She wraps her arms around you from behind or drapes herself over your lap whenever she needs closeness or attention, watching you play.

⭑.ᐟ Or she’ll just unceremoniously end your stream to steal you away.

💙 art bonus by @ne0nspr1te !! + part 2 💙

entering Jinx’s stream:

927 notes · View notes

satoruan · 1 year ago

Text

YOUR BIGGEST FAN — GETO SUGURU

✧･. on vacation with your family, you discover that your biggest fan may not be a mystery after fall.

( TW ) f!reader. camgirl!reader. stepbrother!Geto (in a plot device way, no nii-chan and stuff.) unprotected sex. cream pie. phone sex. squirting. fingering. mutual masturbation. cunnilingus. deception. mentions of bullying. misunderstandings. hurt/comfort. explicit content.

word count - > 6.6k

authors note. can you see I wasn’t creative with the username? I have a love-hate relationship with this fic because I feel like it goes from 0 to 100 real quick lmfao. This is heavily inspired by the book Eyes on Me!

“I bet you look handsome.” You smile at the black screen with the default profile picture floating in the middle.

‘Nah.’ User @Sssman72 types into the chat the takes up the left half of your computer.

“Stop! Don’t say think bad things about yourself,” You laugh, making sure your tits jiggle in the flimsy red lingerie you're wearing. “I know your handsome baby.” You reassure your favorite client. The man who alone gives you 50% of your income. He’s the one who bought you this pretty lingerie set you're wearing.

‘You look tired babydoll...how was today?’ He types.

“I’m fine, I promise, just had a long day, was on a few other private chats with some other customers the entire day.” You confess. In all honesty after this call you were planning to pass out and try to get a few hours of sleep before you had to fly out to your family's vacation home. Today on your live stream, you told your followers you were going on vacation for the next two weeks and wouldn't be online. You didn't plan to get on a call with @Sssman72 but he had texted you as you were getting ready to go to bed that he had a bad day and wanted to see you. Before you had a chance to protest, he spent you 500 and said it would only be 30 minutes. You gave in because first he was your biggest supporter and you wanted to be there for him in some way with all the money and gifts, he sends you and second, you didn’t mind chatting with him, you thought he was the sweetest and you struck lucky the day he joined one of your lives.

‘I’ll let you go then, I want you to get some rest before your flight, sorry for keeping you up beautiful just needed to vent about my ass job.’

“I’m always here for you handsome, I'll make sure to send you those pictures you requested through the week.”

‘Make sure you enjoy your break babydoll, don’t gotta worry about me. Goodnight.’

You say your goodbyes and end up falling asleep in the lingerie bought you as soon as you shut your laptop.

—

“How’s college y/n?” Your stepfather asks when you slide into the back seat of the car. Your mother fitting the last of your luggage into the trunk.

“it’s fine, some of my classes are difficult but nothing I can't manage.” You answer as you buckle in.

“Oh yeah? Thats good. You mom tells me you started a job a few months ago, how's that working out for you?”

You tense under the small blanket you’ve thrown over yourself.

“u-uhm yeah its good—yeah it’s been fun.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don't remember what you mother told me you did again.” He chuckles.

“Uhm—I'm a bartender, m-my friend works there and got me a position.” You tell him the lie you've rehearsed hundreds of times. You start to sweat under the blanket. Did he buy it? What if he and your mom found out what you did? Are they planning to ambush you when you get to the house? They're going to make you drop out and chain you up in the basement when they find out. You throw the blanket off, suddenly too hot and alert. Guess that nap you were planning on taking during the drive wasn’t happening.

“Oh, that’s fun sweetheart, I remember I bartended awhile when I was in college, got fired for stealing the alcohol though,” He laughs at the memory before turning to look at you. “You wouldn’t do that though, you’re a good girl.”

You nod, thankful that your mom decided now to take your stepdad's attention away and get in the car.

“Alrighty were good to!” She cheers. Your stepdad turns back around in his seat before starting the car.

“Finally, thought we were going to get a fine parked here another minute.”

“Oh, shut up! Y/n are you excited to go back to the vacation house? You haven’t been in years!” You mom asks as you guys pull out of the airport.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to, I missed the hiking trails and the waterfalls. None of that in the big city.” You answer truthfully. You did miss the silence of the secluded house you vacationed at every summer since your mom married your stepdad. It was the company that you hated. As if your mom heard your thought, she says something that makes your heart drop.

“Suguru feels the same way, we didn't even have to blackmail him to come! That boy...”

“Suguru is coming?” You scream.

“Coming? Sweetie, he’s already arrived this morning. I’m so excited were all together as a family again.”

“Are you fucking serious mom? Turn the car around and bring me back to the airport!” You screech. You were not going to spend the next week with your bully of a stepbrother.

“Y/n!” You mom gasps.

“Sweetheart, he’s changed.” Your stepdad tells you as if that's going to make it better.

“That’s what he wants you to think! He’s the worst human being on planet earth, please don’t make me spend the next few weeks with him, please mom,” you lean over the consul. “Please dad.” You pout at your stepfather. You know he gets weak whenever you call him dad.

“Sweetheart...”

“No! You aren’t sweet talking your way out of this, he’s changed. He isn't the same teenager with a chip on his shoulder, he’s matured. He even told me the reason he’s coming is to apologize and bond with you y/n.”

“He’s lying mom! He doesn't care about me; I wouldn't be surprised if he told you that just so he could drown me in the lake. You guys own the land so nobody would find my body!” You start to tear up. You were going to jump out of the car if your parents didn't turn back around. Your stepbrother was your biggest tormentor since the day you met him. From picking on you at home to getting the girls to bully you at school. He made your life hell for four years. The day you left for college you screamed how much you hated him and told your parents that the four of you would only be in the same room again when you lay in a casket.

“Oh, don’t cry sweetheart. Your mother is right, he’s changed, I wouldn’t have allowed him around you if he hadn’t. Give us a week and if you want to leave, I promise I'll drive you back to the airport and you’ll never have to see him again, please?”

“No.” You cross your arms and look out the window despite knowing that they’ve won. You can’t jump out of the car now that you are on the highway, and you didn’t bring your own car to drive yourself back to the airport.

“We’ll give you the master suite, the whole attic floor to yourself.” They bargain. You act like you’re thinking of accepting the offer. With the master suite taking up the entire third floor you could lock yourself up there and ignore Suguru. You could also film videos and even go live because the room is soundproof. You perk up at that. You could just spend your vacation on stream and chatting with @Sssman72. He’s somehow always free for you and told you that if you get bored you could call him. He’ll make up for your stepbrother’s awful behavior.

“Fine, I’ll take the master suite.”

—

“Okay that's the last of your luggage, we’ll be having dinner in a few hours on the dock.”

“Kay, thanks.” You watch your stepdad shut the door. Once he does you release the tension in your shoulders. You lock the door before running to throw yourself onto the huge king bed. You sink down. You didn’t see Suguru when you arrived, you mom told you he was probably in town. You hope he stayed in town for the next two weeks.

After laying it bed thinking about how much you hate Suguru with a passion you pull out your phone and open the porn app. You click on messages and open your chat with @Sssman72.

‘Hey...I know I told you I was on vacation but I already wanna go home. You don't have to answer lol.’ You send. He immediately starts typing.

‘Of course, I'll answer you babydoll. What’s wrong?’ Your face heats at the pet names. You wish you knew what he looked like, all he told you about himself was that he was in his twenties and worked for his father's company. You want to know more, what he looks like, what he sounds like. If the messages he sends make you sweat, you wonder what’ll happen if he spoke to them to you. In your head he’s a handsome bachelor who just so happened to find you and deem you worthy of his time and money but hell, he could be lying. He could be some old rich man in his eighties who likes young girls like all the rest of your viewers. The romantic part of you ignores that and is convinced he is who he says he is and that one day you’re going to meet in person and fall in and have a bunch of his babies.

‘You know that stepbrother I told you about?’

“Mm, that asshole who bullied you?’

‘Yep, that asshole. Anyways I bet you won't guess who's here on vacation with me?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Dead serious...my parents didn’t tell me until I was already trapped and now, I have to spend my vacation away with a man who hates me for no reason.’

‘Wow that’s crazy lol. Did your parents tell you why he chose to vacation with you if he doesn’t like you?’

‘Apparently he’s here to make amends...he’s probably here to kill me so he gets all the inheritance.’

‘Well, what if he’s really there to make amends baby?’

‘You should've heard the groan I just let out. I can’t believe you’re on his side babe. When I tell you that he too evil for that I mean it.’

‘Hey, you know I'm always on your side babydoll, I'm just giving you a man’s perspective on it. Maybe he realized he’s fucked up and he feels back so he wants to apologize for all the wrong he caused you’

‘Yea well from a women's perspective he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself!’

‘Don’t say the baby...hypothetically what would he have to do to get you to forgive him?’

‘Hypothetically he's going to have to get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness every time he sees me until I deem, he's forgiven. And he’s also gonna have to send every dollar in his bank account to me AND be my slave for the rest of his life...hypothetically.’

‘Lol you never know babydoll, he just might be willing to do anything for your forgiveness. I know I would.’

‘That’s because you’re perfect and care about my feelings...now I'm gonna go get some sleep before having to eat with the devil. Pray he doesn’t poison me and I survive the night.’

—

You sit at the dinning room table waiting for Suguru. Of course, he’s late, he doesn’t care about anyone's time but his. You say so to your parents.

“Y/n stop being so harsh and give him a chance please.” You roll your eyes and go back to scrolling on social media.

“Sorry I'm late.” You jump at the deep voice before whipping your head to the left where your stepbrother stands looking so...so different.

“Suguru! No need to apologize! Come sit.” Your mother points to the empty seat opposite you. Suguru glances at you and smiles before walking to the seat. You gasp. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile at you or anyone else. Actually, you know he hasn’t smiled at anyone, he was know for being so stoic. You watch intensely as he pulls out the chair and sits. He looks like a different man, his hair is long, down past his shoulders, the black shirt he's wearing stretches around a huge chest. He looks like he spends half his day in the gym. And those eyes—those eyes that always had heavy eyebags and glared at everyone that looked his way, look at you with gentle look you can’t place. They even crease with the smile that he’s wearing. Your eyes widen, he has a fucking dimple. He looks like a gentleman, he looks handsome. You can't stop staring at his smile.

“Y/n? You alright?” You Stepdad breaks through the haze you were in. You look at your parents and back to Suguru who all have concerned expressions on their faces. You feel your entire body heat in embarrassment.

‘Uhm—yea I'm fine.” You look at your parents, refusing to look back at that smile. Suguru has different plans.

“Hey y/n, it’s been a long time yeah?” Suguru says in that deep voice that has your heart beating faster. Out the corner of your eye you watch as Suguru reaches over the food, holding his hand out. Does he really think you’re about to give him a damn handshake?

...Are you seriously thinking about shaking that huge hand? No, you won’t.

You purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest. You swear you see him glance down at your cleavage but the next second, he's holding eye contact. You blink and look away with a ‘hmm’. He lowers his hand.

“Alright guys let's eat, okay?” You mom breaks the tension. Everyone grabs their share, and you eat in silence for a while, nobody brave enough to speak and you simmering with anger at Suguru. You throw glare at him every time you look up from your plate which happens more times than you’d admit.

“You got something there.” Suguru points the sharp end of the fork at you.

“What?” You ask.

“There,” He grabs his napkin and starts to reach for you. You tense suddenly locked in place. Suguru brings the napkin to the corner of your mouth and wipes it. “There you go.”

You stare at him like he's grown three heads. Maybe he’s dying and wants to make amends? Why else would he be treating you like this. Maybe someone took over his body? That has to be it.

“Uh thanks?” You mummer, unsure what to say.

“You're welcome little sis.” You choke on your spit. What the hell did he just call you!? He must be messing with you; you’re suddenly filled with rage. You glare at him, hoping he disintegrates with the sheer force of your stare.

“You’ve grown up.” Suguru says after another blinking contest, you lost.

“Yea, have you?” You snarl. He stops smiling.

“I have,” he says seriously, setting his fork down. “I want to talk about—”

“I don’t care.”

“Please—”

“No!” You slam your hand on the table, and he goes silent. You’re overcome with guilt before you remember that he bullied you for a year, that he told the entire school to bully you after he graduated. Fuck him.

—

You slam the door the door of your room speed walking to the bathroom. You strip your clothes before turning on the tub. You finally breathe when you settle into the scolding hot water. You needed to wash his gaze, his touch, off your body. The entire dinner after your conversation was awkward, your parents didn't really speak, and you refused to glance back up at Suguru who wouldn't stop staring.

You hated him. You hated him. You—you can’t bring yourself to hate him. For some unknown reason you can’t bring yourself to hate him despite everything he's put you through. Why? You shake your head. You don’t want to think of Suguru while you're trying to relax. You phone dings. You pick up and a smile replaces your frown. @Sssman72.

‘How are you babydoll, you alive?’

‘Yes, wish I wasn’t though.’

‘Why what happened during dinner?’ You sigh and send him voice message detailing everything that happened.

‘Oh wow.’

‘I know.’

‘You gonna give him a chance to explain?’

‘I don’t know I don’t want to but also, I want to hear his explanation...can we call I really don't want to type all of this out?’

‘Course, give me a second. I'll call you.’ You wait a few minutes before you hear the familiar ring.

“Hi handsome.” you smile at the blank profile. Right now, you’d do anything to see him, to hear him comfort you, to be in his arms. He could be the ugliest man in the world, you wouldn’t care.

‘HI beautiful. Talk to me.’ He types into the chat box.

“I don't know. like I said I want to hear him out but also, I don't want to hear it because what it it’s bad, what if it doesn’t excuse it? But also, what if it does and I feel like shit for being mean back—it's just so stressful.”

‘I know babydoll. I wish I could be there right now and hold you. I would do anything to take that hurt away. I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’

“Stop, don’t apologize you didn’t do anything. If anything, I should apologize for using you as a therapist when you paid to see me naked.” You laugh.

‘Beautiful girl—I would rather pay to hear all your problems and be able to comfort you than see you naked again.’

“Wow you don’t want to see me naked, I'm hurt. Just kidding, thank you for saying that handsome.” You feel your heart skip a beat at his message. Maybe you can convince him to turn his camera on tonight.

“I kinda wanna take my mind off everything right now.” You murmur into the phone before turning on your camera. You hold it above you and smile so he can see everything.

‘So, fucking beautiful, prettiest girl in the world. You gonna give me a show?’

“hm,” You use your free hand to tap your chin. “Only if you do something for me.”

‘And what is that?’

‘Can you turn your camera on? And before you say no, you don’ have to show your face—maybe you can just show your dick or something else. We can masturbate on the phone, please handsome please.” You whine giving him your best puppy face. You watch as the chat bubbles disappear and reappear. You’re about to back out but all the sudden you’re looking at a dim lit room and a huge cock between a big hand. Your eyes widen and the sight.

"Y-you probably won’t be able to type and jack off at the same time” You suck in a breath. Please turn your audio on please...

‘I’m gonna turn my audio on but I won’t talk, okay? Think you can get off on my moans babydoll?’

You nod.

‘Good girl now show me that pretty pussy, make it squirt for me.’

You lift yourself up to sit on the corner of the tub, propping one leg on tub and spreading the other that rests in the water. You flip the camera so your mystery man can watch you finger yourself. You hear him groan and spit onto his hand.

You moan softly at the sound, teasing your entrance. You wish he was talking to through it, but you’ll settle for this for now. One day...

“Mmm, wish you were the one fingering me right now,” You circle your clit before gliding your fingers out your cunt.

“Wish you were here, holding me n' fucking me.” You curl your fingers into your g-spot and moan. You look back at your phone, watching your stranger play with the tip of his long cock. It looks so big compared to his hand, you know you’ll struggle to take it. Your pussy clenches around your small fingers that do close to nothing compared to your dildos at home.

“Wan’ your cock in me so bad, it looks so big you’ll have to force me to take it, you’ll have to hold me down and make me take it.” You cry out. You watch as he squeezes his hand up and down his cock. It looks painful. He grunts louder.

“M’gonna cum for you handsome, m’gonna give you what you want and make a mess,” You speed up your fingers to match how fast he slides his fist up and his cock. You moan louder, thankful that you got the suite and aren’t in the room next to your stepbrothers, how embarrassing it would be if he could hear you pleasuring yourself.

You clench harder around your fingers. Your stranger starts to grunt and groan louder. You shiver at his deep voice on the edge of cumming.

“Please please let me cum please! Can I come for you please?” You cry, your pussy starts to squelch, spurts of liquid coming out.

“Yes, cum for me.” Your mystery man groans in an all too familiar voice but before you have time to think about it, you’re squirting, the grip on your phone loosening and falling into the water.

“N-no!”

—

“Yes, this phone is done for, your mother and I are heading into town we can try to find a company that sells phone, but you know how small towns like this are.” You stepdad stares at your phone that’s been sitting in a container full of rice since last night.

“Fuck, I need it for work! What am I going to do?” You look up at him in distress.

“What do you need your phone for bartending?” He looks down at you incredulously.

“My boss is sending me some important email and I didn't bring my computer.” You lie.

“Well, you can use Suguru’s laptop, I saw him using it this morning in the sitting room. Think he left it there before he went on his run.” Your stepdad points down the hall as your mother rounds the corner.

“Ready to go honey?” She asks your stepdad.

“Coming! Use Suguru laptop to check your email, if we come back and you haven’t got the email you can use my phone. Bye! Have fun and be nice!” Your stepdad waves before following your mother. You wave back.

Of course, you had to use Suguru’s laptop. Maybe you can just log in, tell your stranger that you’re okay and that you won’t be able to contact him until you get a new phone and then delete the history before Suguru comes back from his run. It’ll only take a few minutes...you hope he doesn’t a password.

You run to the sitting room, but you don’t see a laptop anywhere. Dammit, he always has to make things hard for you. You walk up the round staircase and down the hall until you're standing in front of Suguru’s room. You look around, as if Suguru's gonna pop up out of nowhere and attack you from going into his room. You shake the thought off and open his door. You stop and stare at the bed, you feel like you've seen that duvet. You chalk it up to a bunch of man having the same bedding before turning to scan the room for a laptop. You quickly spot the laptop on his desk and run to it. You sigh in relief when it opens to the last tab he had opened. Thank you Suguru for not caring about who gets into your shit. You click new tab and start to type in the name of the website you use before you freeze.

You only need to type in three letters before the website popped up in top hits. You stop breathing. No... He couldn’t know what you do. Is that why he came here? Was he going to expose you to your parents? Was he acting nice to butter you up before crushing you? Your vision starts to blur. All boys watch porn, maybe he just happens to watch porn on the same website you film on. You can block your account from him so that he never finds you. You swallow before clicking the tab. You shakily move they pointer over to the search bar before you spot something in the left corner that makes you dizzy.

Right where the username of the viewer is supposed to be is the username @Sssman72. Your heart stops and you feel wetness hit your hands. This can’t be real. You move to chat and cry out when you see your username. The last text he sent was asking what happened. No—this is a dream; you’re going to wake up and this is going to be a bad nightmare. You refuse to believe the man you’ve been slowly falling in love with over the last six months is your stepbrother, your bully. The man you confessed all your darkest secrets is the man who never showed you an ounce of kindness. Is this a part of his master plan? Is he going to blackmail you and hold all the nudes you’ve sent him and all the secrets you’ve told him over your head. You’re going to become his slave, doing whatever he wants of you until you die. You curl into yourself and cry harder at the thought.

“Y/n? What are you do—” Suguru stops when he sees what's on the screen. “Let me explain please baby.” He reaches out to touch your shoulder. You flinch away from his touch.

“D-don’t call me that,” You sob staring at him with such heartbreak in your eyes he wants to drop and beg for your forgiveness. “You-you, it was you the whole time.” Your voice breaks.

Suguru nods slowly trying to reach out for you again. You take a few steps away. “Was this some masterplan to hold me under your thumb for the rest of my life!?” You scream at him.

He’s grateful your parents went out of town; this would be an absolute shitshow if they were here.

“No babydoll—”

“I said don’t call me that you asshole! Stop pretending. I hate you Suguru! You win okay, you win!” You tell him before you run out of his room. He curses before running after you, you run up that stairs and into the suite but before you can shut the door Suguru shoves it open. You drop to your knees to pull your suitcase from under your bed.

“Please listen to me y/n. I wasn’t faking—stop packing and let me explain.” Suguru pleads as he watches you throw your clothes into your suitcase.

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me please” He grabs your arm, and you try to fight him, but he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He hugs you around the waist and you push in this chest trying to break free. His heart aches. He hates seeing you hurt, he hates that he was the one who made you cry like this. He hates that you only associate him with the version of himself that he created to stop anyone from seeing what he was truly feeling. He hates that you won’t accept the real version of him now that you know it was him. He holds you tighter as you scream and cry. He whispers sweet nothings as you whisper how much you hate him. At some point you stop fighting and wrapping your arms around his neck. You sniffle into his neck, and he rubs your backs and rocks you.

“Why?” You ask hoarsely after all the anger leaves your body. Now you feel numb, like you're watching your life from a third perspective.

“I never hated you, I never lied, and I never planned to blackmail you—I know you don’t believe me baby but everything I've ever told you on that app was real. Everything I feel for you is real.” You pull your face out of his neck and stare up at him. You don’t believe him.

“I have never hated you y/n. I swear it. I hated the fact that my father replaced my mother with yours not even a year after she died. Baby, I never fucking hated you. I was just a teenager who didn’t know how to express my emotions so I took them out of the person I knew I could hurt the most. It was bad I know; I feel like shit to this day. When I graduated and got away from my father, I realized how bad I was to you, and I got into therapy. I wanted to be better for myself, for you, for everyone around me. I didn’t know that the bullying continued when I left. I didn’t know how bad people had taken it until that day I came back home. When you told me off about it, I was so confused. I’m so fucking sorry. I want to reach out and apologize for everything and the day I planned to do it Satoru—my best friend, you remember him—well he sent me the link to your account and so I made an account and it all just spiralized out of control after that. I was too embarrassed to tell you it was me and then we started to form a connection, a real connection, and I didn’t want our conversations to end so—fuck I'm sorry. Everything I told you; I meant it. I fucking meant every word.”

You sit there stunned, trying to comprehend everything he said. You never knew about his mother. You thought she had passed away long before your mom and his dad had met. But you remember when your stranger told you that. God, you remember when your not so mystery man told you about his family the seemed so familiar to yours. And he didn’t tell all those people to bully you after he left? Did he mean every word? Every word of affirmation he gave you. Those times when he told you that you were capable of being loved and that you were going to find someone who would love every part of you, the good and bad. Was that the same Suguru? You try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man you love is your stepbrother.

“I know it’s a lot of information.”

“It is.”

“Do you believe me?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You do. Despite everything you find yourself nodding. He sighs and you feel the tension release from his shoulders that your arms are wrapped around. You suddenly realize the position you two are in and feel your face heat. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs are on either side of his thick thighs his cock, the cock that you saw last night, is right underneath you, if you lower yourself an inch, you’d be sitting on it.

Suguru grips your waist with one hand, the other cupping the right side of your face. You look up at him and sniffle. He leans down until your foreheads are touching.

“If you give me achance, I'll treat you like the queen you are. I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. One chance is all I ask for.” He mummers rubbing your noses together.

You hesitate, one part of you wants to run away with him because he’s the man you’ve wanted for the last six months. The other part of you wants to run away from him, he’s your stepbrother, he lied, and you don't know if he would’ve ever told you the truth. But isn’t that what he came here to do? Can you blame a little boy for being mad at the people who replaced his mother?

You give him his answer by grabbind his neck and push his lips towards you. If this does go to hell at least you’ll have a story to tell your feature children.

Suguru kisses back before standing and pulling you off him. “What—”

“You said you wanted me on my knees, didn't you? I’m ready to serve you in any way you want. I can have my savings transferred to your account by tomorrow night.” He says as he drops to his knees. You stare at him with wide eyes as he holds your legs and starts kissing from knee to right where your pussy starts.

“Suguru—”

“Shh babydoll let me take care of my girl, show her how sorry I am for hurting her.” He mummers before dropping your leg and picking up the next one. He repeats this a few more times before finally asking you to lift your hips so he can pull your leggings and panties off. Suguru throws your pants behind him before standing up to pull your tank top off. You reach behind to unbuckle your bra and toss it on the floor with your other clothes. Suguru chuckles, reaching up to kiss all over your face.

“Take your clothes off too Sugu.” You giggle, reaching for his sweatpants. You get a firm grip and yank them down. His thick cock bounces out. Your mouth goes slack. The phone call didn’t do it justice. It somehow looks bigger than before and if you weren’t wet before, you are now. That thing is going to be inside you soon.

“Like what you see beautiful?” You nod dumbly as you watch Suguru step out of his pants and take his shirt off with one hand. He’s so fucking sexy.

He drops back down to his knees and pulls you until your ass is hanging off the bed. “Lay down and let me please you.” You comply and watch as Suguru lifts your legs up and buries his face in your cunt. Your hands fly down to his long shiny hair.

“Suguru!” You moan as he licks you from asshole to clit. He sucks on your clit before biting both lips. Your pussy clenches. “Feels s’good Sugu!” You grind down on his talented tongue. Suguru hums into your clit before setting one of you thighs in his shoulder and bringing his fingers to your entrance. He teases you, only pushing his fingers into the joint before taking them out. You cry out in frustration before pulling on his long hair when he finally slides two big fingers into you.

Yours definitely don't compare to his long thick ones. Your back arches off the bed as Suguru fingers jackhammer into you all the while his mouth sucks on your clit.

“S’good Sugu! Don’t stop!” You scream letting go of hair with one hand to cover your loud mouth.

“Don’t hide those sweet moans from me babydoll. If you want my cock, you’ll let me hear you scream my name as you cum on my fingers and mouth.”

You bring you hand back to hair and grind hard as you get closer and closer to orgasm.

“Gonna cum! M’gonna come!” You cry, as you release all over Suguru's face. He moans and sucks even harder before adding another finger. You cry at the sudden intrusion. It doesn't take long before you’re coming all over again, this time liquid shooting out of you and onto Sugu’s chest.

“Yes baby, that's it—what a good girl,” He praises as he slurps up all your juices. “Such a fucking good gril f’me.”

“Gimme a kiss.” You say between heavy breaths.

“Does the pretty girl want kiss?” You nod, pulling Suguru down with you by the shoulders.

“Want you to kiss me while you fuck me for the first time. Want it to be special,” You confess shyly. Suguru leans down and pecks you on the forehead, then the nose, and then both of your cheeks.

“Don’ tease meanie!” You laugh when he kisses the corner of your lips.

“M’sorry baby, can you forgive me?” He pouts.

“Hmm—I’ll forgive you only if you kiss me right no—” You don’t even finish your sentence before Suguru shoves his tongue down your throat. You kiss him back and your tongues fight for dominance. Suguru wins and smiles into the kiss. You can’t believe this is happening. Your bully, your stepbrother, your mystery man is kissing you right now. Your about to make love with said man.

“You okay babydoll?”

“Mhm, just can’t believe this is all happening.”

“Me too beautiful, you sure you want to do this right now? We can always wait.”

“No, I want to. I want you.” You raise your hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He smiles, showing you that adorable dimple. You kiss it.

Suguru kisses your lips once more before he grabs his cock, rubbing it up and down your cunt.

“Fuck—I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill—please Sugu.” You beg, frustrated from all this foreplay. You’ve been on edge since last tight in the tub.

“Alight beautiful,” He pushes the head of his cock into you. “Fuck me—you feel so good. Always knew you would.” You feel his fist guide his long cock into you. You moan. He fits you perfectly.

“Sugu—feel’s s’good, want more!” You cry, fisting the blanket’s underneath you.

“Does my baby want more—does she want to orgasm on my cock?” You nod watching Suguru lift your legs to his shoulder. He leans down, bringing your feet to the side of your head. You whine at the stretch.

Suguru groans as he pulls his cock in and out of you.

“S’too much!” You moan into his shoulder. He just laughs and picks up his pace. The fancy headboard above the bed starts to slam against the wall. You watch with blurry eyes as the stock photos hung on the wall shake.

“Said you wanted more baby, ‘m giving you more.” he says before biting into your neck. Hard. You scream, back arching at the pain. Your hands fist the sheets even tighter, knuckles turning white. Suguru unlatches his jaw. Lifting his head to admire his mark. Now all your customers will know you belong to someone. To him. He kisses the mark.

“Sugu, It’s too much. Hurts! m’gonna cum!” You cry, tears soaking the blanket breath you.

“Oh, don't cry baby—shhh—you’re so beautiful y/n. So damn pretty.” He whispers, coaxing you to orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You stop breathing for a second as your pussy contracts around Suguru's cock. Suguru follows in suit, spurting his cum deep inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he draws out, collapsing onto you.

“T-that was—”

“The best sex ‘ve ever had.”

“Same.” You smile before wincing.

“What’s wrong babydoll.”

“You're about to break my damn hip if you keep my legs up any longer,” Suguru lefts himself enough to bring your legs to his sides. “And you probably ripped a chunk of my neck off with that little trick of yours.” You grumble.

“It’s not bad, promise.” He kisses the bite mark softly.

“And all the pictures fell of the wall.”

“I’ll put ‘em back up baby,” He laughs into your ear. “Just let me hold you for a second.” He kisses your cheek before snuggling deeper into you. You throw your arms around his shoulder while you both try to wrap your head around everything that happened.

#.satoruan writes #tw.stepcest #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto smut #jujutsu geto #geto scenarios #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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