#to the knowing eye it's...a little obvious

[luna-azzurra]

Writing characters who don’t know they’re in love

(PS: but literally everyone else does and is so tired)

These characters aren’t clueless, no, they’re not walking around like, “love? never heard of her.” They know something’s going on, they just won’t admit it (not to themselves, not to anyone.) Maybe they’re scared of messing it up, or maybe they think the other person doesn’t feel the same. Maybe they’ve stuffed the feeling so deep even a NASA rover couldn’t dig it out.

Whatever the reason, they’re not avoiding the truth as much as they’re…rebranding it. Calling it “friendship” while giving each other their only jacket and dreaming about each other’s voices like it’s totally normal behavior.

ꕤ They don’t realize it’s love, but they notice everything else. They clock every mood shift, every absence, every little thing. They definitely  know when something’s off.

⇢ “You changed your hair.” ⇢ “You looked upset earlier.” ⇢ “You didn’t text me back and I panicked.” ⇢ “You weren’t at lunch and it felt weird.” ⇢ “Are you cold?” hands over jacket without a second thought

They don’t say “I love you,” but their actions scream it constantly.

ꕤ they get weird when someone else gets close They’re not jealous. No, how dare you think something like that… they’re just keeping an eye out. For safety... Or whatever."

⇢ “Who was that?” ⇢ “Oh, you’re hanging out with them again?” ⇢ “I just think it’s interesting how you never cancel on them.”

They don’t say it, but they hate the idea of being replaced. It stings more than they’re ready to admit.

ꕤ they make excuses to be around each other.

Literally inventing reasons to be in the same space.

⇢ “Wanna study together? I’m struggling with this topic.” (They’re not.) ⇢ “Oh, I was just in the area.” (They weren’t.) ⇢ “You forgot this.” (It’s a single pen.)

They’d rather lie badly than admit, “I just wanted to see you.”

ꕤ  Their friends are so over it Everyone around them is either rooting for them or trying not to scream.

⇢ “You’re in love with them.” ⇢ “That’s not friendship, and you know it.” ⇢ “You made them soup. FUCKING SOUP. Just say you’re married already.” ⇢ “If I have to hear you talk about them one more time, I’m charging rent.”

Friends are the Greek chorus of this situation, like, brutally honest and endlessly tired.

ꕤ  There’s always a moment they almost figure it out That one soft, unspoken beat where the truth almost breaks through.

⇢ Watching them laugh like it’s the first time. ⇢ Seeing them cry and wanting to fix it more than anything. ⇢ Realizing no one else makes them feel like this. ⇢ Thinking, God, they’re beautiful.

Then they blink, panic a little, and go, “Huh. Weird.” And move on. Like absolute fools.

ꕤ  When it finally hits, it’s not cute, it’s catastrophic. Suddenly everything makes sense and feels like too much.

⇢ Flashbacks. ⇢ Internal screaming. ⇢ “Oh no.” ⇢ “OH MY GOD.” ⇢ “Has it always been this obvious??” ⇢ “Wait. Everyone knew?!”

Yes. Everyone. The friends, the neighbor’s cat. You were the only two who didn’t get the memo...

[yuramour]

I THINK HE KNOWS — F1 GRID

synopsis. trying to keep your crush on a certain driver a secret isn't exactly easy. but do they know about it, or not? pairing. f1 grid x reader (ft. mv1, yt22, ln4, op81, gr63, cl16, lh44, dr3, aa23, cs55, ih6, jd7, eo31, ka12, ob87) genre. fluff, headcanons warnings. mild secondhand embarrassment, maybe some suggestive themes, mostly coworker!reader, some of these are noticeably longer than others. my bad word count. 3k-ish (200-ish each)

note. this slowly devolves into silliness. alsoooooo, im tryna have a more consistent upload schedule, but i did just get a job and im taking online classes over the summer, so like, its hard to find the time to actually sit down and write. i'm trying, tho!! hope you guys enjoy this one :p

MAX VERSTAPPEN

۶ৎ completely oblivious

of course, it was glaringly obvious to everyone but max. everyone else saw the way you immediately stopped whatever you were working on to stare at him whenever he wandered into the red bull garage. ever since you started working for red bull as an analyst, you had the biggest crush on max. at first, it was just a harmless thing, blushing whenever he was in your general vicinity, your coworkers giggling and elbowing you whenever he walked into the room. the teasing from your coworkers was really the most annoying part at first. but now? the most annoying part by far was how max was just apparently totally oblivious to the fact that you liked him. you weren't even keeping it a secret anymore like you were at the beginning. you'd all but asked him out at this point. but he had absolutely no idea. it wasn't until charles teased him about how you stared at him during the driver's parade that max realized. it took him aback at first, but trust he'd never felt more dumb than when he realized you were in fact hitting on him all that time. asks you out the next time he sees you.

YUKI TSUNODA

۶ৎ has a suspicion

he could be wrong- maybe. but for the past several months, yuki's had a feeling that all those times you've brushed against him in the hallway, stared just a little too long during team debriefs, and laughed a little too hard at his jokes meant you saw him as a little more than just a coworker. it's hard for him to keep to himself- you haven't actually said anything that would indicate that you like him, so he doesn't want to bring it up. which sucks for him, because he really likes you, too. the way your hand feels on him when you pat him on the back after a race, the way your voice sounds when wishing him luck, the way your eyes soften when they meet his- it gives him butterflies. but he doesn't want to tell you. maybe he's just scared of rejection- because what if he's wrong? what if you don't actually like him? you have to be the one to tell him first. his imposter syndrome refuses to let him make the first move. he's elated when you do- a grin breaking over his face, a soft "i knew it" slipping from his lips.

LANDO NORRIS

۶ৎ thinks you hate him

maybe it's just the way you show affection- but lando thinks you can be a little...mean. not just a little mean- really mean. lando genuinely thinks you hate his guts. the way you refuse to make eye contact with him, the way you practically flee the room whenever he enters- he's convinced you have something against him. lando's a sensitive soul, he can take things a little personally. and you're perfectly content letting lando think you hate him if it means he never finds out ab out your stupid little crush. on another note, lando's absolutely flabbergasted when oscar makes a passing comment about your little crush on him- leaving both of them confused; lando because he was convinced you hated him, and oscar because he thought your crush was so blatant. oscar was right, of course. you just have a rather elementary way of navigating your crushes on people. lando practically corners you about it the next day, your violent blush and stuttering at the sudden confrontation telling him all he needed to know. he asks you out properly and nicely after that.

OSCAR PIASTRI

۶ৎ he knows but you have no idea he knows

oscar clocked your crush immediately. he's an observant guy. but he's so incredibly normal about it. you have absolutely no idea that he knows. the thing is, he thinks he's being obvious about liking you back. he'll open doors for you, give you his coat when you're cold, open energy drink cans for you, and he thinks it's incredibly obvious. the problem? you just think he's the kind of guy that'd do all that stuff anyway. because he's just so relaxed with it. it goes on for MONTHS. you both thinking you're being plainly obvious about your feelings for each other, and oscar just simply not wanting to be the one to make the first move. lando eventually knocks some sense into him- telling him to just ask you out because you're obviously not going to be the one to initiate it. as soon as he does, you're taken aback- not having expected oscar to be into you, too. but of course he was. how could he not be?

CHARLES LECLERC

۶ৎ thinks its all platonic

charles thinks that you're just a good friend- his best friend. doing things that all best friends do. of course a best friend would drop everything because he asked you to go out and do something. of course a best friend would go out of their way to come to all his races. of course best friends hug each other for extended periods of time after a bad race. he thinks you're just his best friend. because none of his other friends really do things like that- you must just be that good of a friend! right? no. of course not. you are head over heels in love with charles and you always have been. and he's never noticed. to be fair, you didn't exactly want him to. you were scared of the rejection you'd face if he ever found out. he's the charles leclerc. why would he go for you? even if you were his best friend. funny enough, it's his mother that ends up spilling your secret. charles thinks she's just joking at first, but once he realizes she's not, he's absolutely mortified. not only because he never realized it, but because he's felt the same about you for years, thinking you only saw his as a friend. calls you over immediately and confesses everything.

LEWIS HAMILTON

۶ৎ he knows, but doesn't say a word

lewis, ever the gentleman, notices your crush immediately, but chooses to keep it a secret. because you obviously don't want him to know about it, otherwise, you wouldn't be keeping it a secret. he thinks its charming more than anything. completely endeared by the way you immediately blush and look away whenever he makes eye contact, scurrying away like a little mouse whenever he ever so politely asks you to do even the most miniscule task. he didn't have any feelings for you at first- but the more time he spends observing you, the way you interact with others, your kindness, your individuality, he falls for you slowly but surely. you know lewis is a good man, so when he asks you to go to dinner with him, you think it's just to show his thanks to you for being such a hard worker. when he tells you how he feels about you, you feel like you're about to melt out of sheer embarrassment. lewis watches the blush take over your face with a soft laugh, your reaction reminding lewis exactly why he liked you in the first place.

GEORGE RUSSELL

۶ৎ thinks it's just a joke

even if you are so completely blatantly obvious about having a crush on george, he just thinks you're kidding. any time you openly flirt with him, he just laughs along and takes it as a joke. it gets to a point where you're all but telling him to his face that you're in love with him, and he's just like "haha, good one!" straight up, for a man that's so in love with himself, you think he'd be able to take a hint. but no. he's blind to the truth. and he's like this for MONTHS. you are LAYING IT ON, and he just does not understand that you are being 100% for real. only gets it when you literally corner him and tell him blatantly to his face that you are genuinely actually into him. he's both flabbergasted and overjoyed bc this rich boy gets zero play.

KIMI ANTONELLI

۶ৎ he has NO idea

silly silly boy. despite the fact that you've followed him around the world since you were kids, been by his side the entire time, through his best and worst days. he just doesn't see it. and you'd never tell him, of course. you value your friendship too much to ruin it over a stupid little (not little at all) crush. but still. who tf basically puts their entire life on hold to follow their best friend around the world? either someone who's in love, or someone who's just that good of a friend. in your case, it's the former. but unfortunately, kimi thinks you're the latter. he doesn't even realize he's in love with you until he's talking about you to ollie one day, just absolutely gushing about you and ollie's just listening like "...😐 you're stupid." after kimi realizes how he feels, he tries to keep it to himself, but accidentally lets it slip out one day while talking to you. to his ABSOLUTE SHOCK (idk how it was a shock he's lowkey blind), you feel the same about him.

ALEX ALBON

۶ৎ he knows & is very obvious about it

he KNOWSSSS. AND YOU KNOW HE KNOWSSSSS. unfortunately, as an employee for Williams, you know that dating a driver is looked down upon at the VERY LEAST. so despite the fact that you keep it as professional as possible, any and every time you so much as make eye contact with alex, this mf giggles. like, actually giggles. like a middle schooler. you don't even really know how he knows. but you suspect that carlos told him after you let it slip to him one day that you thought alex was cute. but nevertheless, you never let your interactions go beyond relaying basic information and wishing him luck before a race. but one weekend, you and alex end up with you hotel rooms booked right next to each other, somehow leading to alex basically living in your room all weekend. after that, it's all longing stares across the garage and holding hands in secret.

CARLOS SAINZ

۶ৎ totally blind to it

i think he just likes to think that you're a very kind and respectful person. like, he says jump and you ask how high, type shit. despite the fact that you try to keep it a secret at first, you realize that he is truly never going to get it unless you start like, actually putting the moves on this man. he thinks you're just a really nice person until one day it just slaps him in the face that you're literally obsessed with him, and he just feels SO stupid bc of it. like, you are all but offering to literally become his personal maid and he hasn't realized until now??? not very smooth operator of him. when he suddenly starts flirting back to you, you realize the vibe switchup IMMEDIATELY and you know he's clocked you</3 he asks you out on a casual coffee date at a cute quiet little cafe and it's very sweet and fluffy and eughhhh i hate (love) him so much.

ISACK HADJAR

۶ৎ again, thinks you hate him

poor baby thinks you getting red in the face and cutting the conversation off early whenever he tries to talk to you is indicative of you hating him and not of you getting flustered by his mere presence. he's pacing back and forth wondering what he could have possibly done to make you hate him, meanwhile you're in the other room pacing back and forth wondering how the hell you're ever going to be able to tell him you're basically in love with him. isack eventually decides to just be as nice as possible; getting you coffee, doing his best to make your job easier for you, complimenting you whenever he notices you've done your hair differently or whatever. unfortunately, this may or may not make things worse bc you have no idea how to take a compliment and just mumble a "thanks" and immediately leave the room whenever he does so. eventually, one of your coworkers talks some sense into you and convinces you to tell isack how you feel. shocked and elated don't even come close to describing how isack feels when you finally confess to him. relationship immediately starts from there, and he's basically obsessed with you and giving you allllll the words of affirmation.

JACK DOOHAN

۶ৎ thinks its just "bestie vibes"

again. stupid boy. stupid dumb boy. let me set the scene; you and jack have in fact been best friends for as long as you can remember. you weren't even into him at first, but after not seeing him for a while, and all of a sudden, he comes back as an accomplished formula driver, not to mention he's like, half a foot taller and significantly more ripped than he was the last time you saw him, something definitely changed in the way you looked at him. but of course sweet oblivious jack is just happy to hang out with his best friend again after so long. the two of you take a trip to the beach not too long after he gets back, and you have to physically stop yourself from staring at his abs for too long. ofc he just thinks you're looking at him so longingly bc you missed your best friend (him) so bad. that same night, the two of you get a little drunk and you accidentally call him hot to his face. oops! he thought about it for a solid ten seconds before he realized that he, in the back of his mind, thought the same about you. i just love this himbo so bad okay :(

OLLIE BEARMAN

۶ৎ he WANTS you to, but has no idea

to ollie, you were just so fucking cool. always so poised, level-headed, always cool under pressure. and he was absolutely head-over-heels for you. he practically followed you around like a lost puppy everywhere you went. not just because he's always getting lost at social events, but because he wanted to be near you as much as he physically could. to ollie, you were totally and completely out of his league. he wanted so badly for you to notice him as more than the guy that you were getting paid to basically babysit and make sure he doesn't say anything stupid to the media. little did he know, you'd been charmed by his cute smile, sweet demeanor, and puppy-like tendencies since the day you met him. he thinks he's seeing things when he starts noticing the blush that creeps up on your cheeks whenever he says something sweet. "wishful thinking" he tells himself. he swears he's dreaming when you knock on his hotel room one night and say that you have a secret to tell him. and he practically dies from happiness when he wakes up the next morning with a text from you confirming that you meant it when you told him you liked him.

ESTEBAN OCON

۶ৎ he's SUSPICIOUS of you

what do you want from him?? why are you so nice to him? what are you planning?? are you, the sweet alpine employee that says hi to him every morning in the paddock with that cute little smile spying on haas for your team??? he notices the way you come to the haas mobile home to "visit your friend" that works for the team. every time you wish him luck on the race in passing, he narrows his eyes and nods curtly, suspicious of the way you always happen to bump into him. little does he know, he keeps seeing you around because you have the biggest crush on him. you're close with a couple of the guys on the haas pit crew, and they've been trying for months to get esteban to notice you. which he has. just not in the way that you hoped. it all comes to a head when esteban relays his suspicion to your friends on the haas team, all of whom are absolutely flabbergasted that that's the conclusion he came to. they couldn't possibly let him go on thinking that. esteban is completely floored when they tell him you're always hanging around not because you're spying for alpine, but because you have a crush on him. immediately pulls you aside the next time he sees you and apologizes for being so unwelcoming towards you. he takes you out for an apologetic dinner, and realizes you're actually really great :p

DANIEL RICCIARDO

۶ৎ he knows and you know he knows

not only does he very obviously know, he teases you about it. you're too stubborn to give him the satisfaction of telling him flat-out how you feel. that's exactly what he wants. so you let him tease you, taking the shit-eating grins, flirtatious jokes, and the way he gets just a little too close for comfort in stride. you absolutely refuse to give him any kind of confirmation when he leans in, going "come on, i know you like me a little bit." it gets to a point where he's gotten on your nerves so much, you're not even sure if you even like him anymore or if you're just so stubborn, you can't even admit it to yourself anymore. it goes on for literal years. you think it's finally over when daniel leaves red bull. finally, you can let go of your stupid crush and live the rest of your life in peace knowing you won't have to deal with the australian ever again. but no. of course not. despite the fact that he was now in renault, he would come sidling up to the red bull mobile home just to flash you that shit-eating grin with a painfully flirty "how you doing?" all that time while he was in red bull, the possibility that he liked you back hadn't even crossed your mind. you thought he was just kind of a dick, teasing you for being into him. turns out, he was just waiting for the moment you weren't working for the same team so he could ask you out properly. "surprised" doesn't even begin to cover how you were feeling after he told you after the 2019 season was over.

taglist: @bear-yawns @revelauver

[aventurineswife]

Can i ask... hsr men with a reader who always calls them by their name, when the reader suddenly uses a pet name, an intimate one at that out of nowhere? Like, would they ignore would they get flustered or stuff?

“Call Me That Again and I’m Yours”

Synopsis: They’ve always known you as someone steady—reliable, composed, respectful. Names were a boundary you never crossed. Until you did. Suddenly, a soft pet name slips from your lips—they can only respond in the only way they know how.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Mydei x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Caelus x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Romantic Tension, Emotional Vulnerability, Subtle Fluff, Soft Pet Names, Slow burn/Sudden Intimacy, Banter turning Tender, Hurt/Comfort (esp. for Mydei and Sunday), Stoic Men Unraveling, Subtext and Suppressed Feelings, Unexpected Reactions.

Warnings: Light mentions of blood (Mydei's scene), Slight angst / emotional baggage, Suggestive tension (Aventurine, Dan Heng), Emotional themes (e.g., trauma, guilt, redemption).

A/N: I might have to do multiple parts of this req, so let me know which characters you wanna see next! :DD

You’d always called him Aventurine—not Kakavasha, never anything soft. Just Aventurine. Clean, professional, distant. Even during your playful banter or those late-night strategy sessions when his voice dipped and his eyes lingered a little too long, you’d kept the line firm.

But tonight, as he adjusted the roulette brooch on his collar, you walked past him, leaned in, and murmured, “Looking sharp tonight, darling.”

He froze. For precisely 0.5 seconds—a brief hitch in his well-oiled persona. His fingers paused mid-adjustment, and the ever-present grin twitched, faltered… then curved into something slower. Something far more dangerous.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes flicking to yours like dice clattering on velvet. “Did my ears deceive me, or have you just raised the stakes?”

You arched a brow, amused. “I figured it was time to gamble a little.”

His smile widened, but you saw it then—the faint crack in his composure. The way his hand ghosted behind his back, fingers twitching in the air like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or push you away. That name—it wasn’t just cute. It was intimate. Dangerous. It threatened the mask he so carefully wore.

“Careful,” he whispered, stepping closer until your breath caught. “Use that word again, and I might start to think you mean it.”

You smiled back, just as daring. “Maybe I do.”

And just like that, for once, you’d left him unsure who was winning.

“Sunday, we need to address the guest list again. The ceremony’s balance will collapse if—”

“—We include the North Sector delegates, yes,” he interrupted gently, hands folded, gaze serene. “I am already aware.”

You sighed, scribbling notes. Same old Sunday—graceful, poised, untouchable.

“Fine, love, but if this flops, I’m blaming you.”

Silence.

You didn’t catch it at first. His reaction was… almost imperceptible. The pen stilled between his gloved fingers. His eyes flicked toward you with the smallest shift of light. There was no smile, no obvious response, but something behind his gaze unraveled—like a ripple across still water.

“…‘Love’?” he repeated quietly, voice low, measured.

You looked up, unsure if you should laugh it off. “It just slipped.”

“I see.”

He returned to his work, posture perfect—but you noticed he hadn’t written a word since. His mind was elsewhere. The halo above his head shimmered subtly, like it pulsed in time with his heart.

It wasn’t embarrassment. It was something deeper. As if the word had struck a chord he’d long buried—something warm, painful, human.

“…You shouldn’t use a word like that lightly,” he finally said, glancing at you again.

“And if I didn’t?”

His lips parted, then closed. No answer. But his gloved hand slowly reached over and rested on yours, just for a moment. A silent concession. A rare flicker of vulnerability.

You'd breached something sacred—and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull away or fall in.

You found him alone after the skirmish, sitting on the edge of a ruined stone altar, cape torn, armor dusted with ash. The blood wasn’t his, but it stained his hands all the same.

“Mydei,” you called softly, approaching him through the rubble.

He didn’t look up. “I told you to stay with the others.”

“I don’t take orders well.”

A pause. Then a sigh—more relief than exasperation. His eyes finally met yours, heavy with exhaustion and something else: grief he didn’t voice, names he couldn’t forget.

You reached out, thumb brushing a line of red from his jaw. “You’re safe… Beloved.”

He blinked.

“Say that again.”

You tilted your head. “Beloved?”

He stood, slowly, towering, not in a threatening way—but like the weight of that word shifted the battlefield under your feet. He stepped closer until you had to tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“No one’s called me that since…” His voice cracked, just slightly. “Since before the sea swallowed me whole.”

You swallowed. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he said, reaching out with a hand trembling with restraint. “No, don’t stop.”

In a world where titles were earned through blood and legacy, beloved was the one name he’d longed for but never dared to claim.

You gave it freely—and that was the one war he didn’t know how to fight.

Dan Heng stood silently in the Archives, eyes scanning over glowing data logs. You approached, hands behind your back, watching the way the soft blue light played across his features.

“Dan Heng,” you said as usual. He hummed softly, acknowledging you without turning.

You reached his side, pretending to study the data, but your focus was on the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow.

“I brought you some tea. Thought you could use a break, darling.”

The word slipped out, soft and syrupy.

Dan Heng froze.

His grip on the datapad faltered. He didn’t look at you immediately, but his ears turned a vivid shade of pink.

“…What did you call me?” he asked, tone low, almost cautious.

You played innocent. “Hmm? Oh, nothing, Dan Heng.”

He finally turned, eyes narrowed, a faint flush still lingering on his cheeks. “You did. Say it again.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Darling?”

He exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, trying to maintain composure. He failed spectacularly. The calm, cool Dan Heng couldn’t meet your eyes for a solid thirty seconds.

But when he finally did, he stepped closer.

“…If you’re going to say things like that,” he murmured, voice softer now, “Don’t be surprised when I stop pretending I’m unaffected.”

You and Caelus had been walking side by side after a mission, stars glittering above. You laughed about something he’d said, casually bumping your shoulder against his.

“You always do this, Caelus,” you said, teasing. “Charging in like you’ve got plot armor or something.”

“I mean, I might,” he joked. “Main character energy and all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure thing, love.”

The moment the word left your lips, silence fell.

Caelus tripped over his own foot.

He caught himself quickly, turning to you with wide eyes. “Wait. Did you just call me—?”

“I did,” you confirmed with a sly grin. “Something wrong with that, love?”

His expression shifted, uncertain whether to be flustered or flattered. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks blooming with color.

“I… No. I mean, it’s not wrong. Just. Unexpected.”

You nudged him again. “You’re cute when you’re trying not to smile.”

“I’m not trying not to smile,” he said quickly, then failed to hide the shy grin tugging at his lips. “Okay, maybe I am. Call me that again.”

The battlefield was quiet now, monsters defeated, the sunset casting golden hues across the ruins. Argenti stood tall, brushing dust from his armor with knightly grace.

You approached, hands behind your back.

“Argenti, you were amazing back there,” you praised, as always.

He nodded humbly. “Merely fulfilling my duty to Beauty and righteousness.”

You smiled. “Of course, beloved.”

Argenti blinked.

The word echoed.

He turned to you slowly, as if unsure he’d heard correctly. “Beloved…?”

You tilted your head, eyes innocent. “Yes?”

He pressed a hand to his chest, lips parting slightly in astonishment. “You honor me with such a name… Are you certain… I am worthy of it?”

“You’ve always been worthy,” you said softly.

He took your hand, kneeling with a reverent grace, eyes shining. “Then allow me to dedicate not only my blade but my heart to you. For Beauty may guide me, but you, my beloved, inspire me.”

You laughed, a little flustered yourself now.

Leave it to Argenti to turn one pet name into a poetic vow.

[jkwrites-m]

Daddy Kookie (2)

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, idol au, smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken - and pregnant. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, angst, abandonment, young (teenage) pregnancy, unintentional parental neglect, resentment, fighting, boundaries, guilt, burnout, anxiety, confessions, reunions, slapping, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, explicit: PRAISING, kissing, missionary, tension, pillow talk, unprotected sex

A/N: here’s what was originally the ending of part one but for some reason i can’t post that many blocks 😒 so here’s the “part 2”.

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

prev ♡ next

═══════

I found Namjoon in the hotel gym that night.

He was alone, earbuds in, pacing the far side of the room with a water bottle tucked under one arm, muttering rehearsal notes to himself like he always did before a show. I stood in the doorway for a solid minute before I said anything.

He saw me in the mirror first.

Pulled out one earbud.

“You alright?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded once and didn’t press me.

Just set down his bottle and motioned toward the bench press like, sit.

I sat.

And for a while, neither of us said a word.

“I met with her this morning,” I said finally, my voice rough from not speaking since the show.

Namjoon didn’t ask who.

He just waited.

“I asked for an hour. She gave me exactly that.”

I rubbed my hands together. My legs were bouncing, and I couldn’t stop.

“I thought I was ready to see her. But I wasn’t.”

Still, Namjoon said nothing.

“She has a daughter.”

His brows lifted just slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She’s mine,” I added. “Her name is Eun Ae.”

That got him.

Namjoon blinked slowly and sat down on the bench across from me. “You’re a dad?”

I nodded. “I didn’t know. I- God, hyung, I blocked her. She tried to tell me and I just… I disappeared.”

He sighed but didn’t scold me.

I think that made it worse.

“She raised her alone,” I said. “Worked. Went to school. Everything. No help. And I was here, living my dream while she was raising my kid and barely surviving.”

“You didn’t know,” Namjoon said carefully.

“I should’ve.”

“That’s true.”

I buried my face in my hands. “She’s giving me one chance. Tomorrow. At the zoo. I get to meet her - meet my daughter - for the first time and I don’t even know how to breathe around the thought of it.”

He let me sit in the silence for a beat.

Then: “What are you most scared of?”

“That she’ll hate me.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened.

“That she’ll ask me where I’ve been,” I whispered, “and I won’t know how to answer.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “You just have to show up. That’s what matters now.”

“I want to be in her life,” I said. “I want to earn it. I want to be someone she can count on. Not someone she has to recover from.”

Namjoon nodded slowly. “That’s a good place to start.”

“And Y/N…” My voice cracked. “I still love her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t expect her to forgive me. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I want her to see that I’m not the same kid who left.”

“You’re not,” he said.

I looked up at him. “What if I ruin it again?”

“Then you don’t,” Namjoon said. “You show up. You listen. You apologize. You be present. And if they don’t let you in, you keep showing up until they do- or until they tell you to stop. Either way, you stay honest.”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

“Thanks, hyung.”

He gave a tired smile. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I didn’t sleep much.

But I dreamed of a little girl with my eyes.

And Y/N beside her.

═══════

It was her idea to wear her tiger hoodie.

“Because we’re going to the zoo,” she said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

I tied her shoelaces twice- her feet wouldn’t stop bouncing- then stood up and stared at her for a moment too long.

“Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

A pause.

“No,” I said. “I’m just thinking.”

It wasn’t a lie. I was thinking. About everything.

About how I swore he’d never meet her. About how easily I’d broken that rule yesterday. About how I’d watched his hands tremble when I said the word daughter.

He didn’t cry, not fully.

But he looked like someone who had finally understood what it meant to break something that couldn’t be fixed.

I kept that image close as I buckled her into her booster seat and drove to the zoo.

He was already waiting by the entrance.

Sunglasses. Mask. Hoodie. Head tucked down.

It should’ve made him look anonymous.

It didn’t.

Even behind all that, he looked unmistakably like him.

And when Eun Ae saw him, she didn’t pause.

She ran.

Full-speed. Straight up to him like she’d known him her whole life.

“Hi!” she chirped. “I’m Eun Ae. Are you the friend Mama said we’re meeting?”

He knelt down slowly.

I watched his fingers shake as he pulled the mask down from his face.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m… I’m Jungkook.”

“That’s a funny name,” she giggled. “Can I call you Mr. Kookie?”

He let out a short, stunned laugh.

“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can call me that.”

She grabbed his hand like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Like this hadn’t been six years coming.

I followed a few steps behind them, unsure what to do with my arms, my heart, my breath.

They moved together easily.

Too easily.

He matched her pace. Let her pick which exhibits to visit. Lifted her onto his shoulders to see the giraffes. Bought her a pretzel and wiped the cheese off her face without hesitation. They laughed at the same things. Tilted their heads the same way when they were curious. Chewed the straw of their drinks when they were thinking.

They were mirrors.

And I was the frame- holding it all together, barely.

At the tiger enclosure, Eun Ae pressed her palms to the glass and gasped.

“They’re so cool!” she shouted. “I want one!”

“They’re a little big for a pet,” Jungkook said, crouching next to her.

“I’d teach it tricks.”

“I bet you would.”

There was a pause. Then she asked the question I’d been dreading.

“Did you know my mom when she was my age?”

Jungkook blinked.

I tensed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

“Was she weird like me?”

“She was perfect,” he said. “Exactly like you.”

She grinned. “So… super weird?”

He laughed, and I heard something in it that sounded like mourning.

Later, while she climbed a small jungle gym near the café, I sat beside him on the bench.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched her, eyes full of things I didn’t want to name.

“She’s incredible,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll say it again,” he said. “As many times as you need.”

We sat in silence for a long time.

Then I heard my voice say something I hadn’t planned.

“You’re good with her.”

He turned to me, surprised.

“She doesn’t know who you are,” I added. “But she likes you.”

“I’m glad.”

“She’s never had… that. A male figure. Anyone to play like that with.”

He looked away. “That’s my fault.”

I didn’t correct him.

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled something out.

A little stuffed tiger.

“I bought this on the way here,” he said, holding it up. “I didn’t know if I’d get to give it to her.”

She ran back to us just then, sweaty and smiling.

Jungkook knelt again and held out the tiger.

“For you.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Thanks, Mr. Kookie!”

She hugged him. No hesitation.

He closed his eyes like the moment hurt in a way he needed.

═══════

That night, after Eun Ae was tucked into bed, I sat on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders and my phone pressed to my ear.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Like the kind of quiet that presses in on your skin and makes your thoughts louder than they should be.

“She hugged him,” I whispered.

My best friend on the other end of the line didn’t speak. She waited. She always did.

“She hugged him like she’d known him her whole life. Like he hadn’t missed anything. Like he hadn’t disappeared.”

I wiped under my eyes with the edge of my sleeve.

“And he was… good with her. Gentle. Patient. Funny. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to meet her. Like he already loved her.”

“You sound surprised,” my friend said.

“I am,” I confessed. “I don’t want to be. But I am.”

There was a pause.

“You still love him,” she said.

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Please.”

“Y/N-”

“I can’t afford to love him,” I whispered. “Not again. Not after what he did.”

The words came out raw and wet and cracked.

“I spent years hating him,” I said. “Years trying to forget the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he made me believe in things that never came true. And today, I watched him hold our daughter’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I…This could’ve been real. This life. This moment. All of it. If he had just… stayed.”

I swallowed the sob that threatened.

“I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel hate. I felt… sad. And full. And furious. And terrified. All at once.”

“You’re allowed to feel all of that.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

She didn’t say anything for a while.

Then: “Do you think he still loves you?”

I laughed. Quiet and bitter. “He says he does.”

“And do you believe him?”

I looked out the window. The city lights blinked back like stars caught in a snow globe.

“I believe he thinks he does,” I said. “But I don’t know if he loves me- who I am now. Not the girl he left behind.”

“You don’t have to decide anything now.”

“I don’t want to decide anything,” I said. “I just want to breathe again.”

I hung up after that.

Tucked my phone under the blanket and rested my head on the arm of the couch. My eyes closed. My chest ached. I felt heavy and hollow and full of fire all at the same time.

And then I heard it.

A shuffle.

A creak of the hallway floorboard.

I turned.

Jungkook stood there, just outside the door frame, his hand against the wall like he needed it to hold himself up.

He hadn’t knocked.

He hadn’t said a word.

He just looked at me like he’d walked straight into the center of a storm he hadn’t seen coming.

“You heard all that,” I said, my voice flat.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. “I was bringing back the little drawing she made. She left it in my jacket pocket. I was going to knock. I just… heard you.”

I sat up slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

He didn’t budge.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice shaking. “I love you. Not just the girl I left. Not some idea. You. Right now. All of it.”

And then he crossed the room.

Without another word, he bent down and kissed me.

Soft and sure and shaking all at once.

And for one second - just one - I kissed him back.

It was like breathing again for the first time in years. Like lightning. Like a heartbeat I didn’t know I missed.

But then I pulled back.

And I slapped him.

Hard.

He didn’t even flinch.

“You can’t just do that,” I said, my voice rising. “You don’t get to walk in here, say I love you, and kiss me like it erases what you did.”

“I know,” he said, eyes shining. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I just needed you to know it’s real.”

A long silence stretched between us.

He finally set the folded piece of paper on the table.

It was a crayon drawing. Stick figures. A tiger. The word “KOOKIE” spelled backwards across the top.

“I’ll go,” he said, stepping back. “But… thank you. For today.”

He turned and walked out before I could say a word.

And I sat there, hands shaking, heart a mess, trying not to chase after him.

Because no matter how much I wanted to…

I didn’t know if I could survive loving him again.

═══════

I didn’t mean to kiss her.

I meant to leave.

I meant to say those words and walk away like a man who’d learned his lesson. Who knew better now.

But when I looked at her- sitting on that couch, eyes full of grief and strength- I forgot what I was supposed to do.

And when her lips touched mine back… for that brief, burning second, I thought maybe I wasn’t too late.

But then she slapped me.

And she was right to.

I walked out shortly after. The drawing Eun Ae made was still on the table. The door shut behind me like punctuation on a sentence I’d rewritten too many times in my head.

I didn’t go to my room.

I went to Namjoon’s.

He was still up, writing in a leather-bound notebook like always. When he opened the door and saw my face, he didn’t ask. Just moved aside to let me in.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the hem of my hoodie.

“She still hates me,” I said.

Namjoon didn’t reply. Just waited.

“I heard her talking to someone. On the phone. After the zoo.” I exhaled shakily. “She said it could’ve been real. The life. The moment. If I had just stayed.”

My voice cracked.

“She’s right,” I said. “It could’ve been. I destroyed everything.”

Namjoon sat in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees. “You didn’t destroy everything.”

“I kissed her,” I admitted.

That got a raised eyebrow.

“She kissed me back. For a second. Then she slapped me.”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. “You probably deserved it.”

“I definitely deserved it.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my thighs, head in my hands.

“She thinks I’m just showing up now because of Eun Ae. But it’s not that. I was going to try before I even knew. I swear. I just… I still love her. That never went away.”

“I know,” Namjoon said. “We all do.”

“She said she doesn’t know if I love who she is now. Not the girl I left behind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “She’s stronger. Sharper. She’s everything I wish I’d grown up fast enough to deserve.”

Namjoon nodded slowly.

“Then show her,” he said. “Not with words. You’ve said enough. Do something.”

“Like what?”

“Think,” he said. “What did she love? What mattered to her?”

I blinked.

“Wildflowers,” I said. “She always picked the ugly ones growing out of sidewalk cracks. Said they were survivors.”

Namjoon smiled. “Then that’s where you start.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

“I’m going to show up,” I said. “Every day. Until she tells me not to. Or until she believes me.”

“Good,” Namjoon said. “And Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You were a scared kid who made a selfish mistake. Now you’re a man who has to own it.”

I nodded again.

I wasn’t running anymore.

Tomorrow, I’d bring her flowers.

Not roses.

Not something expensive or flashy.

Just wildflowers.

The ones that survive.

═══════

He didn’t text the next morning.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t knock.

But when I opened the door to take out the trash, there was a bouquet of wildflowers on the step.

No note.

No explanation.

Just color.

Simple and honest.

I stared at them for a long time before I brought them inside.

I didn’t put them in a vase.

Not yet.

Eun Ae noticed them instantly.

“Oooh, are those for you?”

“Yeah,” I said, almost under my breath.

“From Mr. Kookie?”

I froze.

She giggled. “He smells like sunshine.”

I blinked. “What?”

“His hoodie. It smelled like sunshine. And gum.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

She took one of the smaller stems from the bouquet and tucked it behind my ear before skipping off to play.

═══════

The next day, he didn’t bring flowers.

He brought her a book.

One of those thick picture books with a glittery cover and a dragon on the front. She shrieked like she’d won the lottery. He handed it to her without a word and let her read to him, even though she kept skipping pages and making up half the story.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t correct her.

He just smiled like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

I watched from the kitchen, trying not to feel anything.

Trying to stay steady.

Trying not to remember the way his hand had felt on my cheek when he kissed me.

And the sting of my own palm after.

═══════

The third day, he showed up with both- flowers for me, a new stuffed animal (a bunny this time) for her, and takeout from my favorite noodle place.

He didn’t ask to stay.

Just handed it over, bowed, and walked away.

I didn’t stop him.

But I didn’t close the door right away either.

═══════

The fourth day, he didn’t come.

And I hated how I noticed.

How the absence felt like a missing rhythm in my day. A skipped beat.

I told myself it was good. Smart. Necessary.

That space was healthy.

But then he texted.

Jungkook: Didn’t want to crowd you today. Just… wanted you to know I’m here.

I didn’t reply.

But I stared at that message for a long time.

═══════

The fifth day, he came by again. This time he asked if we wanted to go for ice cream.

Eun Ae screamed like he’d asked her to Disneyland.

I tried to say no.

I did.

But my mouth betrayed me.

“Okay,” I said. “Just an hour.”

He didn’t smile like he won.

He smiled like it hurt to be that grateful.

We walked to the corner shop with her bouncing between us. He let her pick his flavor. She made him get bubblegum. He pretended to like it. I knew he didn’t.

He caught me watching him.

And didn’t look away.

That night, after she was in bed, I sat on the same couch, stared at the same wall, and whispered into the dark:

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

And I meant it.

I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

But I also wasn’t closing the door anymore.

Not all the way.

═══════

I should’ve known it was too good to last.

The morning started perfect.

Too perfect.

Jungkook showed up with matching zoo t-shirts he found online. One for him, one for Eun Ae. Hers said “Mini Tiger.” His said “Big Tiger.”

She laughed for five straight minutes and made him wear it out in public.

I rolled my eyes and told him he was shameless.

He just grinned and handed me a coffee with two extra espresso shots- exactly the way I liked it.

“Trying to bribe me?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

I didn’t smile.

But my fingers brushed his on accident when I took the cup.

And I didn’t pull away.

We took Eun Ae to the botanical gardens. Let her feed koi fish and run across wooden bridges with her stuffed tiger tucked under one arm. Jungkook stayed close the entire time. Carrying her backpack, tying her shoe when it came undone, wiping ice cream off her face.

It almost looked like a family. 

Almost.

We sat on the grass to rest before lunch, and she ran over to the koi pond like it was a different world.

“She’s so comfortable with you,” I said, trying not to let it sound like an accusation.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I want her to be.”

There was a quiet pause.

Then he looked at me and said something that should’ve been sweet.

But it wasn’t.

“She’s just like you, you know.”

I blinked.

“She’s strong and stubborn and always needs to be right. She even talks with her hands like you do- ”

“Don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

He froze. “What?”

“Don’t compare us like that.”

“I wasn’t- I meant it as a good thing-”

“She’s not a mirror, Jungkook,” I snapped. “She’s a person. Her own person.”

“I know that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like- ”

“You weren’t around. You don’t know what she’s like. You’ve seen her for what? A week? You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

His mouth opened. Then closed.

And I saw something shift in his eyes.

Something small and hurt.

Then a tiny voice interrupted us.

“I’m sorry,” Eun Ae whispered.

We both turned.

She was standing by the fish pond again, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she sniffled. “I’ll be good.”

“No,” I said quickly, moving toward her. “Baby, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She clung to me like her little heart might explode.

I scooped her up and pressed her to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice thick. “I’m not mad at you. I promise. You didn’t do anything.”

She looked over my shoulder at Jungkook. “Are you mad too?”

He shook his head, eyes glassy. “No, sweetheart. Never.”

“I just wanted to have a nice day,” she mumbled.

My throat tightened.

“I know,” I whispered.

We sat on the bench together for a long time after that.

No one said much.

═══════

Eun Ae fell asleep in the car on the way home, and Jungkook carried her inside like muscle memory. He tucked her into bed without needing directions, covered her with her favorite blanket, and kissed the crown of her head before stepping back like it hurt to walk away.

Neither of us said much after that.

He left for the venue early that night to prep for their final concert.

I stood in the hallway after he left, hand pressed against the door, heart aching like it was made of split seams and bad timing.

I didn’t cry.

But I wanted to.

Because I knew this was what I did.

Push away before I could be left again.

═══════

The stadium vibrated under my feet.

Screams rolled like thunder across the roof, and I could feel the beat of the music reverberating through the concrete backstage walls.

It was the final night of BTS’s residency.

Everything was fire.

Everything was electric.

Everything was right- except me.

I stood at the main comms table with a headset snug against my ears, spitting rapid-fire cues to the light techs, the camera ops, and the runners, my voice a metronome of control.

“Camera C, pan stage right. Cue smoke burst. Light rig alpha, wait two seconds on drop- no, two seconds, not four-”

My tone was clipped. My spine straight.

On the outside, I looked like I had it together.

But I could feel it.

The crack behind my ribs. The pulse behind my eyes. The way I flinched every time his voice cut through the speakers.

Every note he sang.

Every lyric he poured his soul into.

It hurt.

I told myself I didn’t care.

I told myself I was over it.

But every time the lights shifted and his silhouette appeared, I remembered the way he’d looked when he kissed me and the way he’d stayed when I slapped him.

I remembered how his voice broke when he said, “I love you. Right now. All of it.”

I remembered the way he meant it.

And I remembered how much that terrified me.

“Y/N?” someone called in my ear. “Spotlight three needs confirmation. We’re doing the slow solo bridge in thirty.”

I blinked, the fog in my head thick.

“Copy that,” I said quickly. “Cue in thirty. Confirm on bridge.”

I watched the monitors as he stepped up to the center of the stage.

Alone.

Golden lights haloed around him. Fans screamed his name from every direction.

And he sang.

Not just to them.

I knew that voice.

I knew when it was for the crowd…

…and when it was for me.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Stop it.

Don’t romanticize this.

Don’t soften.

But I did.

I always did.

Every time his voice cracked. Every time he hit a note like it cost him a piece of himself.

He looked straight into the lens during the final chorus- the one that streamed to every screen in the arena.

It was almost too direct.

Too intentional.

And in that moment, I knew.

He wasn’t singing to a sea of strangers.

He was singing to me.

The cue ended. The screen faded to black. Lights cut. Screams exploded.

My heart thudded harder than the bass.

I turned away from the monitor and pulled off my headset.

I needed air.

The crew backstage was already preparing for encore. The guys were offstage hydrating, catching their breath, prepping for the last two songs.

I slipped through a side door and stepped out into the shadowed corridor by the loading dock. It was cold. Quiet. The noise of the crowd muffled by thick walls.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

I didn’t want this to hurt.

But it did.

I didn’t want to care.

But I did.

And worst of all?

I didn’t want to want him.

But God, I did.

═══════

The cheers were still echoing in my bones.

My shirt clung to my back, soaked through with sweat. My hair was dripping. My lungs were still catching up.

But all I could think about was her.

I didn’t see her once during the show. Not backstage. Not in the wings. Not even in the flashes of tech crew darting through shadows.

But I felt her.

Like gravity.

Like silence.

Like a missing beat in the rhythm I couldn’t get right.

I sat alone in the dressing room while the rest of the guys laughed and recapped their favorite fan chants. Jimin had his feet on the table, Taehyung was dancing shirtless with a can of soda, and Jin was complaining about the confetti in his hair.

But I couldn’t join them.

I couldn’t even smile.

My hands trembled as I unlaced my boots. My knees bounced restlessly. My throat was dry, but I couldn’t drink anything.

Because all I could hear was her voice.

“You don’t know what she’s like.”

“You weren’t around.”

“You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

She was right.

Every word.

I’d tried so hard to connect, I didn’t realize I was stepping on landmines she’d spent years trying to bury.

I messed it up.

Again.

“Yo,” Namjoon said, stepping into the room and tossing me a towel. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

I sighed. “I know.”

He sat down across from me, cracking open a bottle of water and sliding one my way.

“She didn’t talk to me tonight,” I said.

“You talk to her?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then maybe she’s waiting.”

“Or maybe she’s done.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything to that. He just leaned back and looked at me with those eyes that saw way too much.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

I blinked. “Regret what?”

“Kissing her.”

I hesitated.

“No,” I said. “Not for a second.”

“She kissed you back.”

“Just for a second.”

“But she did,” he said. “And that means something.”

“Does it?”

He nodded. “It means she hasn’t closed the door. She’s just scared to open it.”

I stared at the floor.

“I don’t want to scare her,” I whispered. “I just want to show her that I’m not that kid anymore. That I’m not running. That I’m here. I’m here.”

Namjoon leaned forward. “Then tell her. Really tell her. Not to fix things. Not to beg. Just to say it. Say what you didn’t back then.”

I nodded slowly.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I said. 

“Then tonight’s your last chance.”

“I don’t know if she’ll open the door.”

“Then knock anyway.”

I looked up.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “If she sends me away, I don’t know if I’ll recover.”

“She won’t send you away,” he said. “Not if you’re honest. Not if you’re real.”

I took a deep breath.

I was real.

I was terrified.

But I was real.

═══════

I didn’t ask what he was doing here.

I didn’t ask why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days or why his fingers were twitching at his sides like they didn’t know how to be still.

I just watched as he stepped inside my apartment, slowly, like the floor might vanish beneath him and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

He stood there for a long time.

Like he couldn’t find the words.

Like if he said the wrong thing, I’d vanish.

I leaned against the wall and waited.

He finally looked up.

“I didn’t know how to leave this city without seeing you again.”

I didn’t reply.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said. “Not your forgiveness. Not a second chance. Not some happy ending I don’t deserve. I just… I need you to know.”

His voice cracked.

“I need you to know that I never stopped loving you.”

My breath caught.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped. I left because I was scared. And young. And stupid. And then I was ashamed. So ashamed I couldn’t even look at myself. So I blocked you. I shut you out. Because every time I thought of you, I remembered what I threw away.”

My throat burned.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said. “And you raised our daughter without me. You built a life, a home, a future- and I wasn’t there. I missed her first words. Her first steps. Her birthdays. I missed everything.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I don’t deserve to be her dad. I don’t deserve to even stand in this hallway. But I’m here. And if there’s even the smallest piece of you that believes I could be more than what I was-”

He stopped.

Swallowed hard.

“-then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

The silence that followed felt like thunder.

And then I whispered, “You don’t get to walk back in and say the right thing and expect it to fix the past.”

“I know,” he said, hoarse.

“But…”

He looked up.

“But you said the right thing anyway.”

And then I stepped toward him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Until I reached for him.

And he broke.

His hands cupped my face like I was something fragile, like I was glass, like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him keep holding me.

And when he kissed me- this time- I didn’t slap him.

I kissed him back.

Hard. Messy. Real.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t soft.

It was years of ache and regret and longing that had nowhere else to go.

His hoodie came off, tossed aside like it was nothing, and mine followed, sliding to the floor in a forgotten heap.

Hands found skin like they were remembering. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, like he was mapping me again, reclaiming territory he’d lost. 

My back hit the hallway wall, the cold plaster a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against mine. He kissed down my neck, his breath hot and ragged, and whispered, 

“I missed you so much. I missed this. I missed you.”

I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. We stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding layers like they were shackles, breathless and desperate. 

The bed creaked beneath us as he lowered me onto it, his weight hovering above me, his eyes searching mine like he needed permission.

“This okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his voice raw with need and uncertainty. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, but he needed more. 

“Say it.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips found mine again, hungry and demanding, but his hands were gentle, reverent, like he was worshipping me. He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts, his tongue tracing the curve of my nipples, his lips murmuring praises against my skin. 

“God, I missed these. So fucking beautiful.”

I arched into his touch, my breath hitching as his hands slid down my thighs, his fingers brushing the edge of my panties. He hooked them with a single finger, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Always were.”

He kissed his way back up, his lips brushing mine before trailing down my neck, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every inch. 

“I’ve thought about this every day,” he confessed, his breath hot against my ear. “Every. Fucking. Day.”

I reached for him, my hands tracing the lean muscles of his back, the ink of his tattoo sleeve, the piercings that glinted under the dim light. He was solid and real, and I couldn’t stop touching him, like I needed to prove he was here, that this was real.

He shifted above me, his eyes dark with need, and I felt him, hard and insistent against my thigh. 

“I need you,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands gripping my hips. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart racing, my body aching for him. He didn’t waste another second. He entered me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his breath catching as he filled me completely. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. “You feel so good.”

He began to move, slow and deliberate, his hips rocking into mine, his hands gripping my thighs like he was anchoring himself to me. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding, and I obeyed, my eyes meeting his, holding his gaze as he thrust deeper, harder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine with each movement. “So perfect.”

His words sent shivers down my spine, his praise fueling the fire burning between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies moving in perfect sync. 

“Jungkook,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back, my voice breaking as pleasure coiled tight in my core.

He growled, his pace quickening, his hands gripping my hips tighter, his control slipping. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

His words were my undoing. My walls clenched around him, my body trembling as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my breath catching in a sharp cry. “Jungkook!”

He whispered into my neck, his lips brushing my skin, his voice hoarse and desperate. “I love you. I love you so much.”

His words were a balm, a salve to wounds I didn’t realize were still raw. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, my body still trembling as he followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming frantic, his breath ragged against my skin. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he came, his body shuddering above me, his release a sharp, primal sound.

He collapsed onto me, his weight heavy but comforting, his breath hot against my neck. For a moment, we just lay there, our hearts pounding in unison, our bodies still joined, the silence thick with unspoken emotions.

He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said, voice trembling.

I didn’t answer.

But I didn’t ask him to leave either.

And that was enough.

For now.

═══════

I woke up to the sound of his breathing.

Slow. Steady.

It filled the room like the soft hum of a song I hadn’t heard in years.

For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes.

I just listened.

Soaked in the weight of him next to me. The warmth of his arm draped around my waist. The rise and fall of his chest behind my back. His hand, large and gentle, resting against my ribs like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

The light was pale through the blinds. Morning had barely begun.

But the ache in my chest already knew it was time.

I turned over slowly.

He was already awake.

Watching me.

Not smiling. Not saying anything.

Just looking.

Like this was the first morning of his life that made sense.

I searched his face for hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

Just quiet awe.

And something softer than I knew what to do with.

“You didn’t sleep,” I whispered.

“Didn’t want to.”

I blinked. “Why not?”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.

“Didn’t want to miss this.”

My throat tightened.

I looked away.

“You’re leaving today.”

It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “My flight’s in four hours.”

I swallowed.

“Will you tell her?”

He nodded again. “I want to. When you’re ready.”

“I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“I’ll wait.”

I looked back at him.

He meant it.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said softly.

“Me neither,” he replied. “But I want to find out.”

Silence stretched between us like thread.

“Can I see you before I go?” he asked.

“You’re seeing me now.”

He smiled. Just barely. “After I pack. Before the airport.”

I didn’t say yes.

But I didn’t say no.

He leaned in and kissed me once- just once- like he didn’t want to ask for more than I could give.

Then he pulled back, exhaled, and whispered:

“I’m so in love with you.”

I didn’t say it back.

But I didn’t need to.

Because he pressed his forehead to mine, closed his eyes, and stayed there for a long time.

And when he finally pulled away, when he slipped out of bed and gathered his things, I watched him with something heavy and quiet in my chest.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something like hope.

And when Eun Ae woke an hour later and asked where Mr. Kookie was, I smiled, just a little, and said:

“He’s not gone. Not really.”

Because for the first time in years…

I believed it.

═══════

Post A/N: dont hate me 😭 there’s still so much to their story

prev ♡ next

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 06/24/2025

Taglist: @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy-blog @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @elithenium @asyr97 @heyinwluv85s @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @granataepfelchen @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @blubird592 @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho @traumaanatomy @mellyyyyyyx @yu-justme @bangtaniess @xmiaacxio @emmie2308 @magicalnachocreator @suker4angst @dragonflygurl4 @taetaecatboy @somehowukook @iiamnotsure @lavender2ari @busanbby-jjk @prilnextdoor23 @ecomidnight @cuntessaiii @jungshaking @nbjch05 @baechugff @jakiki94 @songbyeonkim

[bunnis-monsters]

Cafes and knots

Werewolf x Vampire!Reader

WC: 2k+

warning: breeding, knotting, blood drinking, grinding, pining

A/N: Use code: birthday to get 25% off your first month of my Patreon ^^ this was a Patreon/kofi reward, and everyone on Patreon and kofi got to see this first!

It was one of those nights, the type where you spent every moment of your eternal life on your feet, jogging back and forth between customers.

Working at a cafe for monsters wasn’t terrible. If anyone asked, you would say it was a fun job with great perks.

The only problem you had was the pushy, rude customers that either wanted the manager or something inappropriate from you.

Thankfully, some of your regulars always stuck up for you when a situation got out of hand.

Especially him.

Standing at a little over 6 foot and with a muscular frame, his eyes always followed the sultry sway of your hips as you moved around the cafe.

Usually, he came in twice a day. Once in the morning for a black coffee and donut before work, and once at night for a protein shake and any pastries you had left to fuel up for the gym.

So when someone got rowdy, he was quick to run over and get up in their face. Tobias was that kind of guy, always ready to help.

You had no idea that he had a thing for you, and that’s why he was so defensive over his cute vampire barista.

To most it was obvious you were crushing on him like crazy too, but neither of you were aware of your shared love.

Most of the time you spent the day sighing wistfully, watching him from the register as he chowed down on your freshly baked pastries. He had a huge appetite after his workouts, so you decided to treat him.

Although today was relatively peaceful, the werewolf was still on edge, as if he could sense something was about to happen.

“Toby, something up?”

You walked over, placing a pastry in front of him. “Here, it’s on the house.”

Tobias looked up at you as if you offered him the world, taking the pastry into his hands carefully. The man loved his baked goods, and giving him something like this for free meant a lot more to him than you knew.

“Thank you… and it’s nothing, I just…”

His wolf ears perked up when the bell chimed, signaling someone had just walked in. A nasty looking monster walked in, his horrible body odor spreading through the cafe like a thick miasma.

None of that mattered to you, though. You politely greeted him, smiling as you gestures towards your menu. “Welcome, what would you like, sir?”

“Hey, toots. Black coffee and some of those bagels, stat.”

You blinked in surprise, about to say something before Tobias spoke up. “Don’t talk to her like that, she’s a lady.”

The werewolf was barely holding himself back from jumping up and beating the guy, he just wanted to keep the peace and make sure you weren’t mistreated.

“I wasn’t talking to you, was I, mutt? Now get ya ass back there and make me a damn coffee!”

He raised his hand, about to slap your ass before Tobias caught it mid swing. The sound of bones snapping filled the air, and Tobias began to shift right in front of you.

“I’m not mutt, and you should never even try to lay a hand on her, you hear me?”

The monster screamed, pulling back his scaley wrist in agony before running out the door, cursing the entire time.

“Wow… Toby, you saved me.”

Your cheeks heated up, and you smiled fondly at the man as his fur settled down. Slowly, his body shrank and he was back in his usual human form.

“That’s probably what had me on edge earlier, I could smell the bad vibes from a mile away.”

He sipped on his protein shake, his tail wagging while you smiled at him. Did you know how pretty you were, with your plump cheeks and twinkling eyes?

“I really appreciate it… is there anything I can do to repay you?”

His tail thumped against the booth he was seated in, and he swallowed as he looked up at you. “Well… I enjoy your baking… would you mind coming by my place and teaching me a recipe or two?”

It was clear he just wanted to spend time with you, the person he was crushing on, but you didn’t notice. “Oh, sure! I can come over after work.”

“Sure!”

“It’s a date!”

When he walked out, you sank behind the cash register, hands over your warm cheeks as you squealed.

It was kind of like a date, right? In your mind, he just wanted to bake with you, but to you it was a date!

Once you were home, you scoured through your closet, struggling to find something cute to wear that you thought Tobias might like.

After 30 minutes of trying on clothes and tossing them aside, you decided on something simple and comfortable to bake in that would also be appropriate for a possible date.

You stood outside his door, a parasol keeping the fading sunlight off of your skin. After knocking, you heard some rummaging before footsteps approached you.

Tobias answered his front door, wearing only a bag of sweatpants. Sweat dropped down his toned, tan chest and his tail picked up speed when his eyes met yours.

“Hey, sorry I’m still a bit sweaty from my work out. You smell- I mean you look nice.”

You were too busy staring at his glistening pecs to notice his slip of the tongue. “Ahh, thank you…”

He smiled, wiping his brow before stepping aside. “Come on in, I cleaned up the kitchen a minute ago!”

You bit back a laugh, spotting crumpled baking supplies sitting on the counter. Rolling up your sleeves, you got to work whipping up something sweet.

He hovered behind you, watching with great interest as you cracked another egg into the bowl. It was hard to concentrate when you could almost hear his warm blood rushing through his veins, only aggravated by his post workout scent.

You were definitely aroused, but tried to play it off… Tobias, however, knew your scent was off.

You yelped when he suddenly started to sniff at your neck, moving down your back. “T-Toby, what are you-“

He stopped, his cheeks reddening as he stepped back. “Sorry, I forgot that uh… that’s not normal for non-werewolves…”

He looked away shyly, scratching the back of his head. “You just… smell different.”

His tail wagged, and he tried his best to hide his boner as you continued. Tobias was truly a sweet guy with good intention, he was just a bit of a himbo.

The werewolf followed you around like an oversized puppy, his tail knocking over random objects in the kitchen. Although he was making a mess, you couldn’t help but find him cute. Getting to see him at home where he was comfortable felt like a treat to you!

The sexual tension was rising by the second, and you both felt your arousal growing. Tobias still hadn’t put on a shirt, but he was a little ditsy so you couldn’t blame him for forgetting.

“Hey…” Tobias called out as you put the pie in the oven. “Do you… wanna stay for a movie or something?”

Your eyes widened, and you looked over at the blushing werewolf. Although you wanted nothing more than to stay with him a little longer…

“Sorry, I have to feed tonight. If I don’t drink enough blood I get woozy.”

For a moment, Tobias looked disappointed, but suddenly his face lit up. “Just drink from me!”

Your undead heart leapt into your throat as you struggled to comprehend what he just said. There was no way Tobias knew how intimate it was to drink from someone else, you knew that, but it made your plump thighs tremble regardless.

“A-alright… I guess I can do that.”

He sat on the couch, looking up at you with those big blue eyes of his. “Is this an okay position?”

You nodded slowly, climbing into his lap. He blinked, smiling widely as you pushed his dark hair away from his neck. “Y-yeah, it’ll hurt for just a second…”

Your fangs extended, glinting in the faint light of his living room before you leaned forward to plunge them into his neck.

“F-fuck!”

His large hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you down onto his lap until you could feel the bulge in his pants.

Tobias let out a growl, your flustered expression unseen by the werewolf as he began to move you against his bulge.

“Sorry… just… got all worked up, you know?”

You continued to drink, and his tail wagged when he noticed you rocking your hips with him. When you were full, you pulled away and panted softly, blood dripping down your chin.

Tobias leaned forward and licked it off, his blue eyes cloudy with lust. “… how about you just stay the night?”

Neither of you were thinking much as you made the way to his bedroom, you were too busy locking lips. His tongue entered your mouth, and he pinned you against the wall.

“God, I’ve wanted this for a long time…” he said, staring down at you like a lovesick puppy. “You’re just perfect…”

“You… wanted me?”

All those days spent pining after him, wanting nothing more than to feel his muscular frame against your soft one… you could have had him all along!?

“Let’s not waste any time then!”

You surprised Tobias with your strength when you pulled him along to the bedroom, his ears flicking and tail wagging enthusiastically. He was just a needy puppy that was excited to have you all to himself!

Within seconds you were in nothing but the lingerie you picked out to wear underneath your clothes. Tobias’s cock strained against his sweatpants as he drooled.

“You look amazing… want…”

He sat at the edge of the bed, laying on his belly as he positioned his head between your legs. “Need…”

Tobias pulled the lacy fabric to the side, humping the bed like a desperate dog as he took in your pussy’s scent for the first time.

He lapped at one of your puffy lips, his pupils displaying before he buried his face between your thighs and began eating you out.

You bucked your hips tugging on his hair and moaning while he looked up at you with pussy drunk eyes. Tobias found the way you whimpered and tried to cover your face as he devoured your chubby pussy absolutely adorable.

His tongue moved over your swollen clit, stimulating it as his fingers pumped in and out of you. You could already see a wet spot forming on his sweatpants, knowing werewolves came a lot.

“Wanna… wanna mate…”

Tobias climbed up, panting as he pulled the waistband down and let his cock spring free. It was huge, pulsing, and twitching.

“T-Toby… I wanna mate with you too…”

You whimpered, feeling him press against you. The tip of his cock was already pressing into your cunt, and the stretch was… pleasant.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving long scratches in his thick skin. Tobias was stretching you out nice and slow, keeping one of his fingers on your clit.

“That’s it, that’s my little mate…”

He moved his hips at a moderate place, playing with your nipples and clit to stimulate you. You had the urge to feed, to bite down on him, and when Tobias noticed he leaned forward so you could sink your teeth into his shoulder.

The man was a werewolf, he could take some blood loss, and the idea of you biting and marking his body ruled him up.

“That’s it, mark me up… f-fuck, gonna stuff you full alright?”

Another growl rumbled in his chest and he lifted your hips so he could fuck deeper into you. “G-gonna breed you, okay? Gotta have my pups, you’ll give me a litter won’t you?”

Watching your pussy stretch around his cock, squeezing it when you came was enough to have the man groaning with pleasure. You pulled back from his neck to kiss him, letting your tongue twirl around one another before he turned you so you could lie on your soft belly.

Your face squished against the pillow, and now Tobias could properly mount his mate. His cock twitched inside you as your plump ass rippled with each thrust.

“Gonna cum!”

Tobias groaned out, completely lost in the feeling of your pussy. His seed spilled into your belly, filling you up completely.

He slumped over you, a low purring emanating from his body. When you started to move, he used his weight to keep you still.

“Don’t move… gonna knot you…”

Before you could ask, you yelped at the feeling of his cock swelling up inside of you. You could barely take it, panting softly as a bulge formed in your belly.

He cooed, rubbing the bulge before moving the toe of you into a better position. Tobias cuddled you from behind, leaving bites and kisses on your neck.

“Knotting… I forgot about that part,” you murmured. Do to having a crush on Tobias, you had done some naughty research into werewolf sex that involved a lot of porn and masturbation.

“Mmph, that's the best part… now we’re locked up for the next hour.”

The two of you ended falling asleep long before the swelling went down, and from then on you had yourself a boyfriend.

Work became even more fun… especially when no one was in the cafe.

“B-but what if someone hears us?”

“We’ll be quiet, it’ll be okay.”

You pouted, unable to deny your cute boyfriend when his tail was wagging and his cock was pressed against your dripping pussy. Sure, the cafe was empty, but what if someone walked in?

He fucked into you carefully, sighing as you tried your best to keep your eye on the door while peeking out of the bathroom. Tobias covered your mouth to muffle your moans, leaning down to nip at your neck and lick the marks he left.

“My good little mate, taking me so well… you’re all wet, getting excited at the thought of getting caught, huh?”

You bit your lip, letting out a needy whine as he groped your tits. “You’re insatiable, this is the third time this week…”

“Hey, I can’t help that I’m in rut, and when I smell you getting all aroused when I visit it gets me going!”

Tobias came inside of you, nearly making the two of you top over as he relaxed and rested his weight on you.

Now, you were stuck taking orders from customers who could smell the werewolf’s musky cum on you. It was embarrassing, and they wouldn’t look you in the eye.

“That was on purpose, wasn’t it?”

Tobias grinned as he drove you home after work, and it was hard to stay mad at your sweet himbo. “Can’t have any getting the wrong idea and trying to court my little vampire mate.”

You huffed, then laughed a bit when he gave you puppy dog eyes. “Yeah, I guess not.”

You never thought your crush would like you back, but now you had a great boyfriend and you couldn’t ask for anything better.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight : @puppyboytranny

[vanillasweetpie]

🥎⋆ catcher's little secret ⭒˚.⋆ Jax x reader

tags: nsfw, blowjob in public, humiliation, Jax wears a maid outfit, dom!Jax, public setting but no one knows (probably..except Caine), throatfucking, established relationship

“you’ve got about three seconds to wipe that smirk off your face.” Jax said with irritation.

but you didn’t. “lookin’ good, Jax!!” the words purred off your tongue as your eyes dragged shamelessly down the line of his long legs in those fucking stockings.

he looked murderous. worse still when you cooed, sticking your tongue tongue out pretty enough for it to look suggestive.

a violent urge to tear apart the next neck breathing in his direction pulsed through Jax. frills, bows, the entire lacy dress clung to his frame looked like a punishment sent from god. if, of course, Caine's ai brains could be called that. yet the outfit wasn’t the worst of it. worse than the public humiliation, was the knowledge that you had voted for it too. you, with the smug little smile and the eyes that glittered when he turned red from fury. or wild embarrassment.

“think you’re clever, huh?” Jax snarled, seizing your wrist hard enough to make your joints scream. “we’ll see how funny it feels choking on this.”

not a full minute passed before he yanked you behind the bleachers, muttering death threats under his breath, calling you every name but sweet.

down in the digital grass, you were dropped, well, half shoved, onto your knees. still mouthing curses up at him, “you look ridiculous”, “this was Gangle’s best idea“ and finally ”can’t believe you’re hard in a f%$!#king maid costume.” but even that was said on a shiver, because the truth was too obvious and Jax pointed it out.

“yeah? and i can’t believe you’re wet for it.” he hissed, pulling his cock out from under the hem of that ridiculous maid outfit. it slapped hot against your face, already twitching with barely contained aggression. Jax grinned as his palm cupped your jaw, smearing pre-cum across your lips as you turned your face and tried to pretend you weren’t throbbing for it. “soo, gonna keep yappin’ or finally do what you’re made for?”

“%$!# you,” you spat, but opened anyway, jaw aching already from how he fed it to you, so smug about the way you whimpered when it hit the back of your throat.

Jax didn’t start rough. no, that would’ve been too easy. he rolled his hips in slow, deep drags, watching you take it, placing his hand on your head. “that’s it,” he groaned. “pretty little %$!#’’s mouth all stretched out. look at you. so stupid for me you forgot you were mad, huh?”

you shook your head and tried to glare, but it was breaking apart fast. in your defeat, your eyes glazed, drool sliding slick down your chin, pooling at your collar. looking so pathetic with his cock in your mouth as he fucked the fight out of you, especially your stupid mockery, all of it dissolved. your palms braced against his clothed thighs, shaking, whole body rocked forward with each thrust.

oh digital stars, he made you gag hard enough to erase the shame of standing in front of everyone wearing fucking lace.

“mmph— g-god, you’re such an asshole,” you gurgled around him, spit flicking as you pulled back for air. “%$!# hate you—“

“no you don’t.” Jax grinned, yanking you back down until your nose pressed into lace again. “i know you love this. love gagging on me like a little toy. awwh, what should i call you? my stupid little cheerleader? how’s that for funny?” he hissed, fucking your warm mouth harder. “was it hilarious when i shoved my %$!# down your throat?”

the stupid lace from his skirt brushed your cheeks as he shoved all the way in again, choking you so deep your ears rang. you didn’t resist. poor thing you were, just let him finish with a grunt and a groan, one hand forcing your head down, the other gripping your throat as he flooded your mouth with thick release. like always, Jax gave no warning. dumping it inside you or down your throat, he finished wherever he pleased, like the selfish prick he was.

you tried to swallow but failed, coughed around it, his cum dripping down your chin in messy strings.

“HEY!” kinger’s voice rang out, calling your name and you rolled your eyes, groaning. “you’re up next!”

Jax was still panting, but with an evil and mocking smile on his smug face. not even paying attention to his outfit anymore, skirt crooked, while you were dripping, desperate for more, for continuation, please please please, you needed him inside now, tongue lolling, blinking up at him, so dazed you couldn’t remember what sport you were supposed to be playing.

“better get out there, baby,” he murmured, smoothing your hair with one hand, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. “don’t trip on the way back.”

[peasack]

I have a patent-teacher conference and guys its not okay I'm cooked.

Lowkey a bit of Valentina slander at the end but that's okay cause who likes her anyway.

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Parent-Teacher conference headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻�� ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei Shostakov ✦

Immediate big bear grin. “Of course! I would love to! Finally, official father duties! I am ready.”

He’s way too excited. You almost regret asking him because he immediately starts planning what to wear like it’s the Olympics.

He introduces himself as your “papa” and tells wildly exaggerated stories about your achievements that didn’t happen.

“Ah yes, Y/N once lifted a car. Very strong. Takes after me.”

The teacher is just blinking rapidly “I-what?”

He lowkey embarrasses you, but he’s also so proud.

Brags about you non-stop and leaves with his arm around you, even if you’re fake-mad at him the whole way home.

✦ Yelena Belova ✦

Acts super casual about it. “Yes, I can go. Why not? Someone must supervise the situation.” But she’s secretly honored you asked her.

She shows up in the coolest outfit and definitely intimidates your teacher a little.

If the teacher complains about you, she’s like: “No. You are wrong. Y/N is perfect.” (Dead serious.)

If they praise you, she’s smug for the rest of the week.

“You know, you could have asked anyone. But you picked me. Admit it Mouse. I am the best.”

✦ Bucky Barnes ✦

Very quiet, kinda awkward. “Me? Uh… yeah. Sure, kid. If you want me to.”

He sits stiffly, probably wears his nicest jacket. Doesn’t say much unless he needs to defend you.

If the teacher says you’re struggling, he’s all protective like, “What’s the school doing to help them? They’re not doing this alone.”

Absolutely takes your side.

If the teacher complains about you hanging out alone, Bucky’s just like, “Yeah? Maybe the other kids should be less annoying.”

Buys you snacks on the way home.

Barely talks about the meeting, just quietly says he’s proud of you.

✦ John Walker ✦

Blown away. “Wait, you want me to go? Like… with you? Of course! Yeah, I can do that. I’m good at that. Totally. Parental figure. Yeah.”

(He’s so flustered it’s adorable.)

Takes it VERY seriously. Nods way too much. The teacher lowkey loves him because he’s polite and enthusiastic.

If they criticize you, John gets defensive FAST.

“Have you considered that maybe your teaching style isn’t working for them? Just a thought.”

Treats you to dinner after like it’s a whole formal event.

“You did good, kid. Real good. Thanks for letting me be there.”

✦ Bob Reynolds ✦

Looks like you just asked him to hold the sun. He’s so touched. “Me? You really want me to go? Yeah. Yeah, I’d be honored.”

Soft-spoken the whole time. Very respectful but sharp when it comes to defending you.

He listens carefully, makes eye contact, thanks the teacher even if they’re being harsh.

If the teacher praises you, he beams.

Quiet little proud smiles. Might ruffle your hair without thinking.

Gets awkward when you thank him.

“Oh—uh, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you wanted me there.”

He'll be smiling after that all day.

✦ Ava Starr ✦

“Why me?” but not in a bad way—just genuinely surprised you’d choose her.

When you tell her you trust her, she agrees instantly. “I’ll be there. You got me.”

Has the most terrifying resting face. The teacher is so scared to say anything negative because Ava looks like she’ll end them.

If the teacher says you’re doing well, Ava’s eyes soften.

She just mutters, “Told you they were good.”

Doesn’t make a big deal out of it. On the way home she just quietly says, “Thanks for picking me.” But you can tell it meant a lot.

✦ Valentina Allegra de Fontaine ✦

"why would I wanna go to that"

Simply doesn't attend.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope you guys liked this one!! My requests are always open<33

Is it obvious that I hate Valentina

[adeptustemptations]

When being asked about what Dr. Zayne’s weakness is, you only smile politely and shrug, saying the same line everyone else gives:

“I don’t know, he’s good at handling everything.”

Because to the rest of the world, Zayne has none.

He's the youngest cardiac surgeon in Linkon City. Achieved multiple awards. Published in the best medical journals in his twenties. Patients adore him, medical students worship him, and even senior doctors step aside with respect when he walks down the hallway of Akso Hospital.

It was natural that people look at him like he's a god. Like he’s untouchable. Like he’s perfect.

But not you.

Because right now? The same man that saved countless of lives with his hands is curled up on your chest, groaning softly while an ice pack is pressed to his cheek. His hair’s a little messy. His eyes are shut tight. He’s in obvious pain, using your chest like a pillow.

“You’re such a baby,” you murmur, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m dying,” he groans into your shirt.

“You have a cavity.”

“Same thing.” He deadpans.

"You didn’t cut back on sugar like the dentist told you." You say with a hint of a stern voice, scolding him.

"I did," he whines, voice muffled.

You raise a brow. "You mean…?"

"I stopped eating cake. For breakfast." He says it like he deserves an award.

"And for lunch?"

He pauses.

"And dinner?"

"...I thought we were in a judgment-free relationship," he mutters, glaring up at you with the most betrayed expression, cheeks puffed, his eyes slightly teary because the painkillers haven't kicked in just yet.

You stifle a laugh. Because that is Zayne’s weakness, not pressure, not blood, not failure.

No. It’s sweets. second to you, but he wouldn't tell you that.

He has the worst sweet tooth in Linkon and the self control of a five-year-old when it comes to desserts. And when that catches up to his teeth, he becomes the most pathetic, clingy, whiney boyfriend in existence. But only to you. Only ever to you.

But the world doesn’t need to know that the flawless Dr. Zayne Li of Akso Hospital once sulked all day at home because you threw away his secret stash of Kitkats.

That part of him? That’s yours to keep.

[MASTERLIST]

[allsteddie]

Steve and Eddie secretly dating.

It's not that they don't want to tell their friends, or that they think their friends won't accept them. They just want to enjoy their relationship a little bit before sharing the news with everybody else. And it's kinda fun, sneaking around to make out behind their friends' backs. Thrilling, even.

But since everything must come to an end someday, their little secret comes out during one of the Party's countless gatherings.

Everybody's at Steve's, making good use of his pool and stuffing their faces with so much junk food Steve's getting a little nauseous just from watching. Robin and Eddie are there as well because there’s no fucking way in hell Steve’s gonna deal with those gremlins alone.

It’s chaos, mostly, since Eddie and Robin can be as bad as the kids, but Steve’s heart is full as he watches everybody having fun and truly enjoying themselves, a stark contrast to what their lives had been a year ago.

At some point, he catches Eddie’s eyes and notices the meaningful glance his boyfriend is giving him. Steve knows that look too well and exactly what it means. He tells Robin he’s going to the kitchen, then goes inside the house. Not two minutes later Eddie is there with him.

Steve pulls him into the laundry room, giggling and stumbling, so they can make out in peace. They lose themselves a little, mouths coming together and hands touching as much skin as they can reach. It’s easy for Steve, really, to forget everything else when Eddie’s nibbling down his neck and chest and grinding against him in a maddening way.

“The others are gonna hear you, baby,” Eddie whispers in his ear and just then Steve realizes he’s been making too much noise.

He pulls his boyfriend up for another deep kiss.

“We gotta go back,” Steve mumbles against his lips.

“We do,” Eddie agrees.

It still takes then a little while to part, though. When they do, they fix their clothes and hair the best they can. Eddie pulls the door open and makes sure there’s no one around before stepping out. Steve follows, making his way to the hallway.

The idea is for Eddie to go back out first, whilst Steve waits a few more minutes in the kitchen. Their plan goes to hell before they can even reach the kitchen, because the bathroom door opens out of nowhere just as they are walking by and the two of them stop, caught by surprise.

They’re even more surprised when they see Mike fucking Wheeler and Will Byers walk out of the bathroom, still grinning at each other all dopey and completely unaware of Steve and Eddie’s presence. At least until Wheeler literally walks into Eddie.

“The fuck!?” Mike snaps, at the same time as Steve says, “What the hell were two you doing there?”

“Kinda obvious what they were doing, Stevie,” Eddie snorts.

And he’s right. Steve knows what those two were doing; their lips are too swollen and there’s a scratch down Wheeler’s neck that looks too much like nail scratching for Steve not to know what those two were doing in his fucking bathroom, but he’s choosing to be in denial here. They are children, his children, he doesn’t want to picture whatever it was happening in that bathroom.

“You’re one to talk,” Mike retorts, eyebrows raised and sending Eddie the bitchiest face Steve has ever seen. “What’s wrong with your collarbone, Stevie? Wild animal attack?”

“Mike, shut up,” Will begged, pulling the other boy by the arm.

“But it’s true!”

“Okay, Will is right, shut the fuck up everybody!” Steve hisses. Beside him Eddie is clearly trying not to laugh, but he doesn’t say anything so Steve considers it a win. Small victories. He shoots a warning glance to his boyfriend before facing the other two. Poor Will looks like he wants to be anywhere but there. “Look, I don’t care what you guys were doing, good for you. But I’m guessing you haven’t told anyone about it, if you’re sneaking around like that.”

They keep quiet, but Byers red face is answer enough for Steve.

“Alright, we also haven’t told anyone, so here’s what we’re doing…”

By the time they are out back with their friends, everything is back to normal. Steve’s hickeys are covered by his shirt and Mikey’s scratches are hidden under band-aids, some bullshit story about bumping into the murderous corner of a cabinet is given as an excuse and, surprisingly enough, the kids buy it.

“You know, we should have seen that one coming,” Eddie says, pointing out to the other side of the pool where Will and Mike are laughing together, apart from the others. They have the same dopey expressions they did when Steve and Eddie caught them red-handed a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, we should have,” Steve agrees. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s. “You know Wheeler is gonna be insufferable now that he knows about us, right? He’s gonna hold this shit over our heads forever.”

Eddie laughs hard. “That kid is a bitch when he wants to be, but he’s not cruel. He might try to use this to get free rides to school or access to R-rated movies, but I doubt he’s gonna tell anyone. Byers would kill him if he said anything and poor Mike is whipped. He’s not gonna risk it.”

“I am not letting him get any R-rated movies. He can tell whatever he wants to whoever he wants, I don’t care.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Eddie scoots closer, eyes shining with amusement as he leans in. “Thought you wanted to keep the secret for a little longer.”

Steve leans in a little, his eyes dropping to Eddie’s mouth on instinct. “Hm… I did, because it’s fun sneaking around and fool everyone. But now Wheeler and Byers know, so I don’t see what would be the point anymore.”

Eddie smiles. “Yeah? So I can…”

“Yeah, you can,” Steve nods, and that’s everything he manages to say before Eddie kisses him, right there by the poolside.

Someone wolf-whistles (Max or Robin, probably), there’re some giggles (Erica and El, maybe Will too, Steve bets) and then…

“What the actual FUCK!?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dustin!!” That one is Wheeler for sure.

Steve might let him have his R-rated movies after all.

[paucubarsisimp]

Hiii Idk if you write for kimi or write smau but I was wondering if you could do a poly fic with Kimi and Eli? Basically were reader is a singer and kimi falls in love with her and tells eli but eli tells him that he also likes her and idk you can come up with the rest

lover

pairing: poly!kimi antonelli x reader x eli babickova

summary: in which kimi and eli fall for a singer

warnings: swearing, use of y/n

a/n: i was going to make this longer but i couldn't add any more photos 😭

fc: gracie abrams + lucia ferrato + other girlies on pinterest!

yourusername posted

yourusername au revoir paris! you were magical 🪩🥂✨

liked by user12, sabrinacarpenter, babickovaeli and others

view all comments

user1 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user2 BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFEEEE

sabrinacarpenter luv you 💋

yourusername MWAHHH 💋💋 user3 best duo ever

user4 IM STILL SOBBING

user5 I LOVE YOU Y/NNNN

user6 the way she teared up when we started to cheer her name as she was leaving

user7 she's such a sweetheart

user8 goddess 🤩

f1wags posted

f1wags singer, y/n l/n spotted in the paddock today during the monaco gp!

liked by user3, user22, user15 and others

view all comments

user1 omg ahh she likes f1 too??

user2 bfr shes probably one of those celebs that pretends to know about f1 when in reality they don't even know what a throttle is 😂😂 user3 thats not true! she's been watching f1 since she was little user4 plus she has a song in the new f1 movie

user5 she looks stunning

user6 did y'all see that she was hanging out with eli??

user7 yesss!!! they looked like they were having sm fun

user8 QUEEEEN

yourusername posted

yourusername met the prettiest girl today! babickovaeli

liked by babickovaeli, user5, madisonbeer and others

view all comments

babickovaeli i still can't get over the fact that the y/n l/n talked to me!

yourusername omg you're going to make me blush 🤭 we should meet up again soon :) babickovaeli definitely!! user1 haha eli is so real for that

user2 ahhh they're both so pretttyyyy

user3 omg eli i love your dress!!

kimi.antonelli 💕

user4 where is your hoodie from??

yourusername it's from brandname!!

carmenmundt gorgeous girls <33

yourusername ily carmen <33

kimi.antonelli posted

kimi.antonelli what a night! yourusername, babickovaeli

liked by olliebearman, yourusername, georgerussell63 and others

view all comments

yourusername it was so fun meeting you kimi!!

kimi.antonelli you too!!

olliebearman mate you're so lucky

kimi.antonelli i knowww i think me and eli almost passed out when she came on user1 😭😭

babickaovaeli she has the voice of an angel 🥹

yourusername aww ty eli <33

user2 HOW WAS IT KIMI? IM DYING TO GO

kimi.antonelli best night of my life. 10/10. would highly recommend.

user3 awww they're so cuteee

user4 y/n looks so happy!!

yourusername posted

yourusername lunch 🍓🍰🤍 kimi.antonelli, babickovaeli

liked by kimi.antonelli, , user45, tatemcrae and others

view all comments

user1 is she like crashing their date?? 😭😭

user2 that's so weird

alexandrasaintmleux pretty ❤️

yourusername all youuu 🤭 🤭

kimi.antonelli had loads of fun 😘

user3 dafuq...

babickovaeli love you sm pretty <333

yourusername love you moreee bbyyy <333

user4 so prettyyy

user5 love you y/nnn

kimi.antonelli updated their story

caption look who it is yourusername

third person

y/n had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, curled up on the couch like she always did — blanket halfway on, hair in a loose mess, hand reaching out towards them even in her sleep. kimi had been the first to notice she was out cold. he nudged eli gently, then pointed.

“again,” he whispered, smiling a little.

eli looked over from where she was washing up mugs in the kitchen. “she looks so peaceful,” she whispered back.

kimi wandered over and pulled the blanket up over y/n’s legs, careful not to wake her. he stood there for a second too long, just looking.

eli noticed. she dried her hands slowly, her eyes soft.

“you’re so obvious,” she said gently, teasing without any bite.

kimi’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t deny it. he just sat down at the kitchen table and said, “you like her too.”

eli blinked, then walked over and sat beside him. her smile tugged a little crooked. “that obvious, huh?”

kimi didn’t look at her — he was still watching y/n, like something about her sleeping face was keeping him grounded.

“i keep trying not to,” he said. “not because i don’t want to. i do. it’s just… i love you. and this thing with us — it’s real. i didn’t want to mess it up.”

eli was quiet for a moment. then she reached across the table, took his hand.

“kimi,” she said. “i love you too. so much. and i love her.” she laughed a little under her breath. “i think i’ve been in love with her longer than i realized.”

kimi’s eyes flicked over to hers, wide and a little hopeful.

“really?”

she nodded. “yeah. she makes me feel like… like the best version of myself. i didn’t know love could feel that easy.”

kimi’s voice softened. “me too. she just… gets us. both of us.”

they sat there for a few moments, holding hands, hearts too full to speak.

“i think she already knows,” eli said eventually, glancing over at y/n again. “we’re not that subtle.”

kimi smiled, eyes still on y/n. “the way i look at her?”

“the way we look at her,” eli corrected, grinning.

then she stood and tiptoed over, kneeling next to the couch. gently, she brushed y/n’s hair back from her face. kimi came over and crouched beside her, the two of them looking at her like she was the softest thing in the whole world.

eli whispered, “we should probably wait until she’s awake to tell her.”

kimi chuckled quietly. “yeah. i want her to actually hear it when i say i’m in love with her.”

“me too.”

they stayed there, side by side, quietly holding onto each other — and holding space for the girl they both loved. not in halves. not in competition. just more.

messages

kimi <3

y/n will you please please come to canada?

eli 💕

pleaseee y/n

you

okay! i have a little break in between my next concert anyway

kimi

GRAZIEEE BELLAA

mercedesamgf1 posted

mercedesamgf1 p1 for george and first podium for kimi!

liked by yourusername, f1, georgerussell and others

view all comments

georgerusell63 LET'S GO BABYYY

user1 yesss!! kimi!!

yourusername proud of you kimi ❤️

kimi.antonelli grazie principessa user2 erm okay.... user3 wtf kimi you have a gf user4 i mean can you blame him? it's y/n

user5 insane race!!

user6 yess the lando and oscar thing?? user7 my landoscar heart 💔

olliebearman ❤️

user8 BEARNELLI!!!

second person

the rain was steady outside, tapping quietly on the windows like a soft soundtrack just for you. inside, everything felt warm and slow — the candle flickering on the table, the smell of vanilla hanging in the air, and you curled up on the couch with eli’s hoodie slipping off one shoulder.

eli was leaning against you, her fingers playing with the edge of your blanket, and kimi was sitting on the floor nearby, watching the rain but sneaking glances at you both.

there was something in the way they looked at you — softer than usual, like they were holding something back.

eli finally shifted so she could meet your eyes, voice low and a little shy. “hey, y/n?”

you blinked awake and gave a small smile. “yeah?”

kimi scooted closer to the couch, his hand brushing against yours like he was checking if it was okay to hold on. you didn’t move away.

“we’ve been talking,” kimi said, sounding nervous but steady, “about how we feel. about you.”

eli nodded, biting her lip like she was trying not to grin too much. “it’s kind of scary to say, but we both love you.”

your heart did a weird little flip. you weren’t sure if you were more nervous or happy — maybe both.

kimi reached up and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “i love you, y/n. it’s been this way for a while now.”

eli squeezed your hand, her eyes bright. “me too. i love you so much.”

warmth spread through you, a quiet kind of happiness that made everything feel easier, lighter.

“you don’t have to say anything right now,” eli said softly, leaning in to kiss your temple, “we just wanted you to know.”

kimi kissed your forehead, slow and sure, like he was promising you something that didn’t need words.

your hands moved on their own, tracing their faces — one on kimi’s cheek, the other on eli’s jaw.

“i love you both,” you said, voice barely above a whisper but steady. “more than i ever thought i could.”

eli smiled, that kind of smile that makes you want to laugh and cry all at once, and kissed your cheek softly.

kimi chuckled, leaning in to press a warm kiss just under your jaw.

you melted into them, your fingers weaving through their hair, your heart so full it felt like it might burst.

they wrapped you up in their arms — a messy, perfect hug — and you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

outside, the rain kept falling, soft and steady, like the world was quiet and waiting with you.

yourusername posted

yourusername lover girl era 🍓💖

liked by kimi.antonelli, sabrinacarpenter, user4 and others

view all comments

sabrinacarpenter so happy for you 🫶

yourusername tysm gorgeous ily <33

babickovaeli ❤️❤️

yourusername 🤭🤭

user1 OMG THATS SO KIMI

user2 AND THAT HAS TO BE ELI TOO

user3 AHHH THROUPLE ALERT??

user4 so pretty <3

user5 happy for you <33

user6 NOOOO MOTHER

user7 ONE CHANCE I BEG

y/nupdates posted

y/nupdates y/n spotted with two different people on what looks to be a date! throuple? 👀

the owner of this post has disabled comments

yourusername posted

yourusername i once believed love would be burning red, but it's golden ❤️❤️ kimi.antonelli babickovaeli

liked by madisonbeer, user81, user6 and others

view all comments

kimi.antonelli ti amo amore mio

yourusername ti amo di più

babickovaeli i love you both ❤️

yourusername i love you more baby ❤️

user1 I KNEW IT HAHAHAH

user2 OMG I WAS RIGHTTT

user3 OMG THEY'RE SO CUTEEE AHHH

user4 kimi's picture 😭

kimi.antonelli posted

kimi.antonelli le mie ragazze babickovaeli yourusername

liked by olliebearman, yourusername, user16 and others

view all comments

yourusername kimiii ❤️❤️ baby i love you so much

kimi.antonelli i love you too mia principessa

babickovaeli ti amo kimi ❤️❤️

kimi.antonelli ti amo di più

the owner of this post has limited comments

babickovaeli posted

babickovaeli my pretty girl <333

liked by yourusername, kimi.antonelli, carmenmundt and others

view all comments

yourusername i love you so much gorgeous ❤️❤️

babickovaeli i love you more ❤️❤️

kimi.antonelli i love you both ❤️

babickovaeli we love you so much ❤️❤️

the owner of this post has limited comments

yourusername posted

yourusername lover is out now! <3

the owner of this post has disabled comments

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted, @landoslutmeout , @linnygirl09, @spidybaby, @dessashippr, @freyathehuntress lmk if you want to be added!

[satzumosupremacy]

Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.13

Gift In Disguise

Male reader X Kwon Eunbi

Tags: Smut, not a mommy Eunbi 9.2k Words

A/N: Does mention a little blood and violence but you should be fine :)

Every movement is calm, controlled, and efficient. But you carry a kind of danger. It can serve good or evil, but make no mistake—you are dangerous, more than what people realize. It’s not something you like to show, unless you want to make a clear statement.

Someone always has to learn the hard way. Just like today, you’ll give back what they bring. Psychological mind games, manipulation, subtle pressure, controlled silence and chaos—you’ll escalate it calmly, with precision, only if it’s necessary. This is your playing field.

“Boss?” Shadow—a colleague of yours say, pausing as he looks back at you.

Eunbi glances over too with curiosity in her eyes, wondering why you stopped short just before turning around the corner toward the elevators. She tries to follow your gaze but quickly finds nothing. Shadow, on the other hand, catches the signal instantly. No words needed.

This is just one of the many things that set you apart as a bodyguard—counter-surveillance isn’t easy, and it’s not a skill anyone can easily learn. It’s more than watching your surroundings; it’s about reading people, anticipating their moves. You see someone once, there’s no need to be alarmed. Twice, maybe it’s a coincidence. But the third time, you know you’re being tailed. Easier said than done.

“I need to use the bathroom. Escort Miss Eunbi to her room, Shadow,” you say, making an excuse as you continue to stare down at the person in the lobby from afar.

“Understood, Boss” the bodyguard says and continues to walk with Eunbi following right behind.

And right after Eunbi turns the corner, you adjust your earpiece to radio your colleagues. “This is Boss. Shadow is escorting Eunbi. Ghost, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

“What did security say about the possible Tango? Over.”

“They think we’re overreacting. We can’t do nothing about it. They seem like unseasoned security guards that haven’t gotten their hands dirty before when the threat is posing as a bodyguard.”

No bodyguard should be sitting down when there’s only four that’s in the building. It’s already a red flag. An experienced security guard would have caught on.

"Should I drag him by the hair to security?" you say, half-sarcastic, but not entirely joking. At this point, the risk of something happening is unknown. Anything can happen in a moment. You're not doing this just to protect Eunbi, but to ensure the safety of everyone in the building. It’s really not your job to, but something like this is already a security risk.

The whole time, your eyes stay locked on him—the threat. Whether he knows you're watching from a distance and is just playing dumb, you don’t care. You want him to realize he’s being stalked. You want him to feel uneasy. You want him to be afraid.

“What’s Tango doing? Confirm a description, Boss. Delta is right beside me. Shadow and Miss Eunbi just got out of the elevator and are walking to the room.”

“He’s sitting pretty with a phone in his face,” you reply, still staring down the threat. “Confirming—black baseball cap, black suit jacket, white flannel, black pants, brown dress shoes.”

“Copy that. No changes. Should I drag each security guard by their hair to you, Boss?” Ghost chuckles.

“It’s a good way to hurt their pride, and I’ll be proud—but let’s not get into legal lawsuits.”

“Right. Would you like me to take your place?”

“Rendezvous at my location. Try stalking and make it super obvious. Or try hitting on him if you get bored.”

“Is that really the extent you want me to go, Boss?” Ghost laughs.

“Up to you. Just let me know so we’re on the same page.”

What you really mean is, you aren’t pressuring Ghost to do honeypotting—a form of espionage where a woman flirts with a man to gather information or lower his guard. But if you can get something useful that way, it’s a win. Minimal risk. Maximum gain.

“Eunbi just entered the room a few seconds ago. I’ll be on my way down,” Ghost says.

Once Ghost takes over your position, you step into the elevator and head up to Eunbi. You glance at everyone who passes by from the corner of your eye—head on a swivel, even as they go about their day.

When you reach the room, you tap Delta on the shoulder and motion for him to patrol the floor. No one says it out loud, but the team feels it from the change in your glare—passivity dissolving into quiet tension. The calm watchfulness sharpens. Everyone’s posture straightens, eyes narrow. Surveillance shifts into staging. You and the team aren’t just watching anymore—you’re waiting for the moment to strike.

“Hey,” Eunbi whispers, opening the door after hearing your voice from outside her room. “Oppa.”

“Yes?”

She waves you into the room, and you follow her command. Eunbi gently closes the door behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the brightly lit room while her manager is still out getting snacks.

“Oppa, is everything okay?” she asks cautiously. “You were in the bathroom for so long. Are you feeling constipated? I have some medicine if you are.”

Seriously, what’s going on in her mind? Is she always like this? You don’t even know.

“No. And stick to ‘sir’ like you did before. We aren’t close like that.”

“Alright, Boss,” she replies, which already feels bizarre to you.

“Not that either.”

“Well, you’re not the actual boss-boss, though,” she says, tilting her head slightly. “Right?”

You keep a silent smile, with just a hint of a smirk.

“Hey, you’re a little annoying. At least answer me, Sir,” Eunbi pouts.

You would say Eunbi is an oddball, because how many names is she going to call you by, and within a simple response? She already called you by your name, “Sir,” “Oppa,” “Mister bodyguard,” and an informal “Hey”, all in rotation. It’s not a big deal to you, but it is getting a little annoying when she can’t stick to one name.

“Do you know what psychological misdirection is, Miss Eunbi?”

“A what?” she says, sitting down on the chair while you stand near the door.

If she doesn’t catch on, you’ll misdirect her to another topic—just to gauge how clueless she really is. “Want to know why I told you not to say my name? Get down.”

She stands up, confused, looking around before slowly squatting in front of you with her legs together. “What’s happening?”

“Stand up,” you say, looking down and meeting Eunbi’s gaze with her cleavage in your view, which was unintentional on your end to look down at her.

She obeys silently, still confused as ever.

“Sit back on the chair, Miss Eunbi.”

“W-what are you doing?” she asks, blindly grabbing the chair and sits down.

“At least you’re obedient, Miss Eunbi. Just listen and do whatever I tell you to do. Don’t question, don’t worry. Trust me, and I’ll trust you.”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes at how easily you controlled her. “Oppa, why do you look so paranoid, though? Nothing’s going to happen,” Eunbi says with a smile.

That’s the last thing you wanted to hear—“nothing will happen.”

Even omens exist in your line of work. It’s like telling a first responder, “It’s been quiet.” Anything can happen after that. And the smile Eunbi’s giving you meant to comfort, just hits a nerve instead.

“I’m not paranoid, Miss Eunbi,” you say calmly, letting out a quiet sigh that barely masks the tension coiling in your chest.

“Um, would you like to sit down? There’s a chair right by you. Just look down, like to the left side," she says with a gentle invitation.

“No thanks, Miss,” you reply, your tone clipped but not harsh. “Not here to babysit an adult.”

She exhales, a mix of frustration and concern. “Why are you being like this? Weren’t you more friendly like thirty minutes ago? Is it because my manager’s not here that you’re acting cold to me? C’mon, it’s only been more than like one or two hours.” Her eyes search yours, trying to find a hint of the person she met earlier.

If she were sharper, she’d notice the subtle shift in your posture—the way your eyes flicker toward the door every few seconds, or how your jaw tightens when you think she’s not looking. The threat you’ve spotted more than once over these past hours isn’t visible to her. And you don’t blame her—it’s not her burden to carry.

Still, your guarded demeanor, the silence between your words, the weight in the room—it should speak volumes.

“It’s not that, Miss Eunbi. Please understand,” you say quietly, voice steady but heavy with meaning.

“Eunbi. Just call me Eunbi. Please, Oppa?”

But you don’t budge. “I get it. We met at the awards show when you got lost and couldn’t find the bathroom and talked a little, but let’s stick to professionalism.”

“I don’t like you, Sir.”

“I don’t care,” you shoot back quickly.

“Are we friends? We sure do bicker a lot.” Her smile grows wider, teasing, eyes locking with yours like she’s trying to crack the armor you wear.

You neither know nor care much about being her friend, so you shrug without saying a word.

“It’s okay to be shy and not admit we’re friends. But you should buy my album. I’ll personally include extra goodies—free of charge. I’ll even sign it. Friends should support each other, right?”

“We’ll see,” you say, not planning to spend a dime on her album. “Depends on how I feel.”

“I like this side of you now. It’s kind of hot. The cold with the soft, gentle side mixed in—very charming.”

She’s definitely hitting on you, but you act like you didn’t hear it. Neither does she really get what you’re trying to say.

“Mhmm, okay. Is that all you want to talk about? May I step outside and give you some privacy, Miss Eunbi?” Your voice is calm but carries an edge, masking the tension simmering beneath.

“No. Can you stay with me a little longer? I get kind of lonely sometimes.” Her voice drops a notch, softer, almost vulnerable, and you catch the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.

You glance at her, the dim light casting soft shadows across her face. Reluctantly, you nod. “What else do you want to ask, Eunbi?”

Casually dropping the ‘miss’ is intentional. Psychologically, she’ll feel a lot better and let you out quicker. You’re playing it smart by controlling the situation. Not in a bad way, that is.

She shifts slightly on the chair, the subtle rustle of fabric breaking the quiet. “How does a woman become a bodyguard? I swear, I saw one standing by my door. Why is she dressed totally different from you?”

“Her call sign is ‘Ghost.’ She’s dressed as a staff member for obvious reasons.”

“And about the guy who escorted me to the room... why does he walk weird after we left you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. The faint hum of the air conditioning fills the pause. “What? Why are you so curious about how people walk? That’s kind of weird.”

“I can’t be curious?” she chuckles and adjust her shirt by the collar, to which, you saw a glimpse of her cleavage. “His right arm doesn’t sway much like his left.”

“Cauliflower on his left ear. A stiff right arm. What comes to your mind? He’s the scariest bodyguard here, Eunbi.”

“And you’re not the scariest?” she says, trying to sound sharp, her eyes flickering up and down your figure. “Your nickname should be ‘Little Boss’ then.”

“Unfortunately, no,” you reply. It’s actually an understatement. Some things are better left unsaid.

She shrugs, clearly unimpressed. “You’re kind of boring.”

“Yeah, sorry for getting your hopes up or something. But I have to get going out there. We can talk after everything is done, Eunbi.”

“Fine. Gosh.” Her voice trails off, a mix of disappointment and amusement.

Once you step out of the room, the cool hallway air hits your face. You catch Shadow’s steady gaze as you smooth your sleeve with a quiet sigh. “Anything from Tango?”

“Tango got up and took the staircase. Ghost is following. Should we not make a move? He’s in a secluded space that people won’t see.”

“We move on my command,” you reply firmly. “Tango isn’t an immediate threat until he does something.”

“Anything on your mind, Boss? A plan B?”

“You’re in charge if anything goes sideways. Stay with Eunbi while I’m out. Coordinate with Delta while Ghost and I handle Tango. And do me a favor—don’t tell Eunbi where I am.”

“I—yes, Boss.”

“Did you want to say something?” you ask, your tone softening.

Shadow hesitates, then nods. “I’m not sure Ghost can keep up with your pace.”

“You know her. She’s a tough fighter.” You adjust your earpiece, glancing at Shadow as he acknowledges your words. “Delta, do you Roger? Over.”

“Roger.”

“Go to the lobby and be on standby to escort Miss Eunbi’s manager when they return. Check six and twelve.”

“Roger that, Boss. But what about Tango? I don’t have a good feeling.”

“Ghost and I will handle him. I need you and Shadow to watch Eunbi closely.”

“Boss, I’m against that,” Delta says firmly. “I’ll go in your place.”

Shadow cuts in over the radio, voice sharp and unwavering. “Just listen and do what you’re told, Delta. Don’t make things harder for Boss. He’s not in the mood.”

You lean in beside Shadow and reply quietly, “Shadow…”

And things heat up quickly, out of nowhere.

“Didn’t Boss pull some strings to get you out of prison after seeing you stomping a creep nearly to death? You know damn well you would’ve done time for that. Most people don’t get a second chance after, but somehow, Boss saw something worth saving you from being locked in a cell," Delta snaps back.

“Okay, army brat. Still got that army ego, huh? Always itching for a fight, always ready to kill? Gosh, the military’s the only place you can get away with murder, isn’t it?” Shadow fires back. “Be glad Boss took you in and gave you a second chance. Otherwise, you’d be dead broke, fighting for a country that didn’t give a damn about you afterward.”

“Hey, fucking quit it,” you radio back in a not-so-friendly tone, glaring directly at Shadow with your eyes silently saying, “Don’t make me put you in check.” The radio goes silent for what feels like minutes as you close your eyes, trying to regain some calm after losing a fair bit of your cool.

“Sorry about that, Boss,” Delta finally replies over the radio.

“I’m taking full responsibility for what can happen. Understand that. Acknowledge all.”

“Roger,” delta responds back on the radio.

“Roger,” Shadow responds beside you.

You wait for one more reply—but Ghost doesn’t respond. No verbal answer, not even the faint double-tap on the earpiece that usually signals acknowledgment or silent confirmation.

“Ghost, do you copy?” you radio. “Ghost?”

Your mind races to one conclusion—something’s wrong. You glance at Shadow, who’s staring back at you, his expression darkening with concern. There’s no time to hesitate, no time to gamble on hope. Without another word, you sprint toward the stairwell, pounding down the steps two at a time while Shadow stays behind and watches Eunbi.

“Delta, be advised, Boss is engaging. Standby,” Shadow radios to Delta.

The sudden rush of footsteps draws Eunbi’s attention. She opens the door, startled to see only Shadow standing there. “Where’s… um… your boss?”

“He’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t worry. Your manager should be back any minute now. The radio show isn’t starting for another hour. Get some rest, Miss Eunbi.”

“Did your boss run to the bathroom again?”

Shadow exhales a short, quiet sigh—part amused, part tense. Her question might’ve been funny under normal circumstances, but the situation is far from that. “No, Miss.”

Meanwhile, you’ve already turned the corner, racing down three flights of stairs. As you hit the landing, your eyes lock onto Ghost against the wall, one hand clutching her stomach, her fingers slick with blood.

“Where did he go?” you ask, breath caught somewhere between panic and command.

Ghost winces, jaw clenched, and points toward the nearby stairwell door. “I’m fine. Go get him. He has a knife,” she gasps.

You catch sight of her earpiece on the floor—shattered, useless. She never got the chance to signal. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone, hit the emergency line, and hand it to her with the speaker on. You trust her holding on until help arrives and you quickly leave her to deal with the threat.

“Ghost’s been stabbed. Delta, inform the front desk to shut every door. My orders. Execute, now!” you radio and run full speed quickly after, hoping to catch the threat before anyone gets hurt.

“Lima Charlie, Boss,” Delta responds quickly.

“Going dark,” you declare, slipping your earpiece off and continue to run.

Every scream you hear only pulls you closer, feet pounding against the floor as you run. Your mind is spiraling with frustration and anger burning hot. You should’ve handled the threat earlier. Maybe none of this would’ve happened. But deep down, you know you couldn’t have moved until now.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you spot the threat—knife out, yelling at the broadcast station staffs, demanding something you can’t quite hear over the chaos. But you're past the point of negotiation. One of your own is bleeding out, and you have every right to act in defense.

The staff freeze at the sight of you charging forward. There’s no hesitation in your stride, no warning in your eyes. You’re locked on target, and nothing else matters. In one swift motion, you slam into the threat, driving him hard into the wall. The crack of impact echoes through the hallway as the side of his face smashes against the concrete. You hope the shock will dislodge the knife—but he doesn’t let go. Behind you, the staff break into screams, scattering and sprinting to safety, putting as much distance between themselves and the scene as they can.

And to what you don’t expect, he maintains his balance and grips his knife. But looking down at his knife still in his hands and how he’s holding onto the knife like an amateur, you don’t expect much. The threat takes a good look at you and points the knife right at you.

“Just give up and put it down,” you warn him.

“Scared?” he laughs and charges at you.

Being rushed at took you by surprise. And neither was calming down the situation was an option anymore as you dodge his knife attack easily from how slow he swung. It also took him by surprise. You quickly take this window as an opportunity to charge right at him as an exchange of force.

He tries to fight you off by lowering his arm down, getting the knife sideways with an intent of swinging it out once it connects to your stomach. You know this all too well in an instant as he tries to swing right at you instead after knowing that targeting your stomach was difficult. And neither did that work when you lowered yourself to punch him right in the ribcage. It worked a little too well that he stumbled and lean against the wall for a split second.

From what you just observed and did, you’re not expecting a long fight.

“Are you done?” you say, trying to provoke him, trying to get in his mind while he groans in pain.

He’s not giving up without a fight, or even worse, until you’re seriously hurt by him. Without an answer, he sees you approaching him at the corner of his eyes, and that’s where he strikes you with his knife, slashing your left outer forearm in a clean straight line from a quick defensive maneuver.

You felt every single bit of that slash despite your body fueling you with adrenaline.

But quickly and smartly, you back off and hear the sirens in the distance. To what he doesn’t expect, you stood your ground and crack the bones in your neck, smirking. He doesn’t like anything about how calm you are, even after you lowered your guard to where he got lucky to get a hit on you.

Trying to disarm him was a plan, but with how he’s waving his knife around carelessly for you to not jump back in, it’s not worth a risk. Despite reading his movements, all you can see is how vulnerable his chest was.

One big mistake from you can lead to his death from how the sharp side of the knife can be turned against him with just a strong push. This is something you want to prevent yourself from doing. Neither would it look great.

“Don’t be scared, come at me,” you say, provoking him again as he charges at you blindly, knife aimed dead-center at your stomach like it’s all he’s ever trained for. Very predictable.

You quickly counter him with a sidestep, just enough to let the blade miss, then drive a short, jab to his liver. That would definitely make anyone drop in seconds no matter how tough they are. But he still won’t let go of the knife. He twists with the momentum, swinging back at you—this time the blade grazes your side, then suddenly, you feel it sink in.

Your breath catches as the cold steel bites into your side. The pain blooms fast, hot—but your mind stays clear. You don’t pull away. Instead, you drag him with you, shoving both of you toward the wall, using every ounce of muscle to keep the blade from driving deeper as he suddenly looses all his strength and drops down. You quickly follow, pinning him to the ground before he can recover.

In the back of your mind, time is ticking. The knife isn’t lodged in you. You can already feel the warm trickle soaking onto your shirt, the sharp throb in your side growing louder with each heartbeat. You press your knee harder into his spine, just enough to make him stop squirming.

“Learn how to use a knife properly,” you say, which provokes him. He tries squirming around to get out but you apply pressure to his back, hurting him more and more.

“Ah. Ow. Ow. Ouch. Okay! Damn!” he screams in pain. His breathing is abnormal because of the liver shot delivered from you. “Get the fuck—.”

“Stay down while I’m being nice. And be glad I didn’t hit you hard,” you quietly say with a growl and look around, then back down to him. “Should I demonstrate where it would be better to kill you quickly?”

He doesn’t answer, everything you’re saying is scary when you’re in hands reach of his knife. Waves of dizziness starts to settle, the feeling of nausea kicks in as he groans from the pain, his vision starts to blur.

“It’ll be quick. You’ll feel it for about thirty seconds until your body goes into shock within a minute,”you say quickly, wanting to bring some sort of panic from him on purpose.

All you’re doing is scaring him. And neither was he good enough to put up a fight while armed with a knife. However, you did underestimated the sudden jolt of his willpower that got you hurt in the process. You’ll blame yourself for thinking he would drop the second you punched his liver without too much force.

“You’re just a thug… in a suit,” he slurs. “Another dog… for those soft, rich bastards. Leashed… till they say go.” He grunts, groaning in agony as you slam his face into the cold ground.

You didn’t like what he said one bit.

Within the moments of listening to his words, you wouldn’t say he was wrong—but being called a thug? That was over the line. You don’t want him to think he got in your head—even if he did.

“I don’t need your sympathy. I enjoy preying on people like you. And just to correct you, some hunting dogs can’t ever be controlled by a leash.”

He chokes on his cough, “you’re—fucking insane.”

“Be glad you’re still alive. Your chest looked like an easy target, the way you swung your knife around. You wouldn’t want to see your knife lodged in your heart, wouldn’t you? Especially from your own hands? How about a deep slash to your Achilles tendon? You won’t walk the same after.”

“Fucking psychopath,” he says, spitting his saliva on the ground, wheezing and groaning.

“Say it again,” you murmur and sigh. “You’re no different. You picked the wrong hunting dog and you’ll pay for it by being locked in a cage.”

Yet, despite toning down your aggression and daring him to repeat himself, he stays quiet. At the corner of your eyes, you see police officers running towards you. Slowly, you get off of the threat as he lays down exhausted, and voluntarily.

“Requesting additional medical support,” the police officer says into his radio, his calm, steady voice echoing faintly down the hallway as another officer walks alongside him.

Glancing down at the side of your stomach, you spot the wound. It doesn’t feel deep, but the moment your hand presses against it, pain flares, sharp and pulsing. Blood seeps through your shirt and fingers, faster than you expected, though it’s not the worst you’ve seen. Your grip weakens, but your face stays steady, calm and composed, like this isn’t the first time.

——

It’s the next day, a perfect day to be alone in your quiet house, resting as your injuries slowly heal. Peace settles over everything, undisturbed, until the sharp chime of the front doorbell cuts through the silence at fifteen minutes past noon. The unexpected sound piques your curiosity; you weren’t expecting anyone.

You glance at the front door camera and see Eunbi standing there. It’s completely unexpected. What surprises you even more is that she came alone with her car parked right in your driveway. With a quiet breath, you walk over and unlock the door, ready to greet her.

“Hey, so… um, I heard about yesterday,” Eunbi says, handing you a small bouquet of flowers along with her album and the extra goodies she promised. “I know men don’t usually get flowers, but I thought you might appreciate this.”

“Hi, and… thank you?” you say, a bit confused as you take the gifts from her hands. Flowers from her felt strange, beyond strange, but you appreciate the gesture. “Should I wire you the money? I’m supposed to pay for the album.”

“No, it’s alright. Please take it as a thank-you gift for watching over me yesterday. My manager made sure to send copies to your agency for your colleagues, and I personally signed each one. I promise."

“That’s nice of you, Eunbi,” you say, feeling the smooth weight of the album in your hands. A quiet moment settles between you. The sincerity of her gesture lingers in the air.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, and a quiet silence lingers between you again for a few seconds.

The stillness feels a little heavy, as if neither of you quite knows what to say next. There’s an unspoken distance between the two of you, neither close enough to fill the silence comfortably. You glance away briefly, the awkwardness settling in as the gap lingers just a bit too long.

“How did you get my address?” you ask. It’s a simple question, but the slight hesitation in your voice betrays your curiosity, and maybe a touch of awkwardness.

“My manager contacted your agency.”

You nod slowly, acknowledging it’s reasonable. “Alright. You probably had a good explanation to get them to give out my address so easily.”

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Why would I?”

“You know, I… I didn’t mean to bother or annoy you yesterday or today, or even jinx anything from happening, Oppa."

“Yesterday? Oh, that’s just because I just didn’t want you to know what was happening.”

“Awh, that’s sweet of you. But are you doing anything today? I got in because your gate was opened. Were you going somewhere?”

“No, someone dropped off a med kit since I was running low. And sorry, I think you should head home. Not in a mood to talk.”

She didn’t like your response one bit. She was expecting you to comply. “Please? Aren’t we friends?”

“Are we?” you reply, tilting your head slightly to the right, a hint of skepticism flickering in your eyes.

“Are we not?” she counters back. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Like what?”

“Let me in,” she says, letting out a cautious, suppressed chuckle.

You turn around, rolling your eyes in mild irritation, and walk away from the door. You’re not in the mood, but you can’t bring yourself to force her out when she hasn’t done anything wrong. “Close the door after you get in,” you call over your shoulder.

Eunbi shuts the door behind her and quickly slips off her shoes. As she moves towards you, her eyes scan the space—much bigger, more modern, and sleeker than the small apartment she’s used to. “How much are you paying for this house?”

“That’s private information,” you say, opening the med kit in the living room and pulling out a small bandage to replace the one on your left arm.

“Ah, that’s right, you’re the boss. It’s not just a nickname. I get it now,” Eunbi says, sitting down beside you on the couch, hands resting quietly in her lap. “Bet it’s paid off, right?”

“No comment.”

She’s quietly taking you in—observing how you don’t treat her like a famous celebrity and how you’re letting her make herself at home. You weren’t the first to invite her in when it’s something she’d expect, but what surprised her most was that you didn’t ask for a photo or autograph. It’s eye-opening for her. For the first time, she feels like her fame has been gently stripped away, and it’s a strangely comforting feeling.

As her gaze shifts to your arm, a flicker of sympathy crosses her face. She begins to feel bad for what you endured yesterday. The room falls silent for what feels like minutes as you carefully peel the plastic off the adhesive.

“I’m sorry, Oppa.”

You meet Eunbi’s gaze, catching the genuine regret in her eyes. You shrug lightly, a small, reassuring smile tugging at your lips. “What are you sorry for? It’s my job, Eunbi.”

“But is violence always the answer? Even when you’re not the one causing the problem?”

“It’s better to calm things down with words,” you say, pausing to press the adhesive firmly onto your arm so it won’t come loose. “But who am I to say that when my colleague got stabbed? Would you do the same as me?”

“I would.”

“I assumed so,” you murmur and reach for the med kit to tightly close as it clicks in place.

“Can I ask you something?” Eunbi says hesitantly. You lean back on the couch, catching her uncertain expression before she meets your gaze. “Uh… how does it feel, being in a situation like yesterday? Is it scary?”

“You don’t focus on how it feels. You focus on what needs to be done. Ask a firefighter, they’d say the same.”

“Were you scared, though?” she asks, glancing at you as you look down at your own hands. You take a slow breath, your fingers tightening slightly before you finally meet her gaze.

“Hmm, it feels like a Sunday night when you know you have to get up and work the next day,” you chuckle, teasing a little as you look at her. “You just gotta get used to it and deal with it, ya know?”

“You’re so annoying,” she laughs, looking away to catch your reflection alongside hers in the TV screen. “But you’re kind of hot to be annoying.”

There she goes again—flirting. But this time, Eunbi doesn’t meet your eyes, even as you watch her closely. It makes you wonder: what other creative tactics does she have up her sleeve?

“My manager told me you got stitches,” Eunbi says, glancing back at you with a curious look.

“I did. Why?”

“Can I see it?”

Should you let her see your stitches? Neither are you close to comfortably lift your shirt up for her to see. But you couldn’t stop being curious on what she’s trying to do. You’ll be more than willingly to stir something up as the tension between the two of you grows. Because what’s really the reason why she’s staying this long?

“Sure,” you say, lifting the side of your shirt to reveal the stitches beneath a gauze pad. For whatever reason, time seems to slow as Eunbi reaches toward the wound without asking. Your hand snaps up, catching her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She feels the firmness of your grip—but also the unexpected warmth in your touch. Her wrist is slender beneath your hand, your fingers overlapping with controlled pressure, restraint held just at the edge of release.

“Do you… like, feel lonely sometimes?” Eunbi murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. She looks a lot shyer now, like she’s bracing for something—your answer, maybe, or the silence that might follow. Her eyes meet your gaze, unsure if crossing the line between the two of you meant being pushed away.

You’re still gripping her wrist. The tension hasn’t broken—if anything, it’s sharpened, suspended in the space between you. Her skin is warm beneath your fingers, her pulse steady but not quite calm. You don’t speak right away, and in that pause, the weight of her question lingers—louder than either of you expected. In the stillness, your eyes lock, and the two of you stare at each other for just a little too long.

If anything can be read through her eyes, it’s not just curiosity—it’s a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea for a sense of connection. Her gaze holds steady, soft yet unguarded, and though she doesn’t move closer, there’s a tension there—like she’s daring you to close the space between you.

“I remember you saying you get lonely sometimes, Eunbi,” you whisper. “I get it. I do too.”

She slowly leans in, close enough that you catch a faint trace of her scent. “We’re more alike than you think,” she murmurs. “Sometimes alone, sometimes in a crowd. Always on the move—city to city, country to country, barely any rest. Surrounded by people, by fans, but the loneliness creeps in when no one's around."

You see her point—there’s truth in it—but you’re not ready to buy into it. “I like the way you think, Eunbi,” you say quietly, “but no.”

Eunbi lets out a soft laugh, tilting her head. “So you’re saying no but in a really attractive way. Are you always this charming when you reject people?”

You try to stay composed, keeping your thoughts and lust in check. But it’s hard when she’s this close. The way her tits sit leaves a lot to the imagination when the line of her bra is just barely visible from her tight shirt. And that smile—the way she’s looking at you with steady eyes pulls your desire. The silence stretches with unspoken tension. Your gaze drops to her lips, then back up to her eyes. You crave her, no question. But still, you hesitate.

Your quietness lingers too long to where she adds on with a murmur, leaving her pride out, “have me today, will you?”

“Eunbi,” you say, your gaze locked onto hers, surprised as she reaches for your other hand and places it gently on her chest.

“I get a lot of messages from men. I know exactly what they want from me. But how come you’re not asking or trying to seduce me? I know my boobs are big and all, but are you more of an ass guy?”

You gulp, genuinely unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to play it cool, but another part is caught off guard—unsure whether to joke, deflect, or be honest. Honestly, what the hell are you even supposed to say in a moment like this?

“Am I not pretty enough?” she teases, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “How hard do you want to play before I have you wrapped around my finger?” She chuckles softly, leaning in just a little closer. “You’re pretty feisty. Try kissing me. Might just change your mind.”

You lean in even closer, and she closes her eyes, silently waiting for your lips wherever you dare choose to place them. But what you’re really doing is trying to read her pulse through her wrist—it’s racing faster from your playful teasing. Despite that, Eunbi gently slips her hand under your shirt, pressing her small palm against your chest, silently daring you to make the next move.

She opens her eyes with a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face for having to close them. She sighs softly, “can you stop playing hard to get? I need your help taking off my clothes, you know. Just for a while, make me feel vulnerable. Make me feel wanted.”

“What do I get in return?” you ask with a smirk, finally releasing her wrist that your right hand had been holding onto for what felt like forever.

She pushes you back against the couch’s backrest, straddling you as she leans in close. Her lips find your neck in a quick, heated kiss, and she murmurs softly, “anything.”

You slowly pull Eunbi into your embrace, your left hand sliding from her chest to rest gently at her side. Her curious lips explore you with delicate warmth, and in that quiet closeness, you both find something you’ve been needing—raw, unguarded connection. You want more. Those soft, inviting lips deserve to be kissed deeply, and her body craves the touch only you can give.

“Let me take you to my bed after,” you whisper, feeling Eunbi’s soft lips trail along the side of your neck, devouring you completely. A shiver runs down your spine, your breath catching as warmth floods your body, every nerve ignited by her touch.

“I’d love that,” she chuckles, pulling away just enough to grab both your hands. She compares them, hers noticeably smaller than yours. With a playful smile, she laughs softly, “It’s ironic how your hands were clenched into fists yesterday, but today I’m holding them like I might get manhandled.”

“Is that what you want, Eunbi?” you tease, a slow smile spreading as a playful smirk curls at the corner of your mouth.

“Well…,” she pauses, eyes softening as she glances down at your wound with a hint of playful concern. “Oppa, why don’t you just lie back and let me take care of everything?”

You like her idea—there’s something tempting about letting her take control, but you know damn well you’re not in any shape to do much with that injury to the side of your stomach. It’s a bittersweet feeling: wanting to be involved, yet needing to surrender to the moment.

“Sounds good?” she asks, her fingers lightly tracing the side of your jaw. You can’t help but appreciate the tenderness in her touch—so gentle, especially after the seriousness you showed just yesterday.

“I’m sorry that you have to do most of the work today,” you softly say.

She chuckles softly at your sincerity. “Isn’t that what friends are for? Sometimes we go out of our way just to help a little.”

“You said I can have anything from you, right? Let’s meet next time we’re both free, Eunbi. I’ll make it up.”

“Oh, so manly. You’re not going to take back those words, are you?”

You nod, tilting your head side to side. She finds the gesture way cuter than she expected. “Should we move to a more comfortable place? Your bed?”

With a quiet groan, you lift her into your arms. Eunbi can’t help but giggle, surprised by your sudden strength—and the fact she’s being carried. As you step into the bedroom, the door left slightly opened and forgotten, your eyes stay locked on her, drawn to her eyes.

“Lay down,” she urges softly, tapping your back. “I’ll take it from here.”

After Eunbi slides off, you rest your head on the pillow, eyes fixed on her curves. She slowly undresses herself by taking off her shirt to reveal the light pink bra she has on. You can’t help but admire how stunning she looks by feeling a heat rising inside you as your mind drifts to the thought of your face buried between her tits.

Eunbi grips her waistband, her knees locking in place as she bends down to slide her pants off, letting them fall softly to the floor. You lick your lips and swallow hard, eyes locked on her every move. She teases you with a small, playful sway before crawling onto the bed, settling herself gently on top.

“You’re hot. So damn hot,” you compliment her as your hand brushes against the smooth curve of her thighs up to her hips.

She lowers herself, closing her eyes as her lips part slightly before pressing softly against yours. Like the gentle tide meeting the shore, Eunbi’s touch is both tender and inevitable. You feel the warmth of her breath, the soft weight of her body pressing close. A smile tugs at her lips as she parts just enough to murmur, “may I undress you, handsome?”

Your whispered consent barely leaves your lips before her thighs wrap around you, firm yet inviting, locking you in place. As she pulls your pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your cock springs free, catching her gaze. Eunbi lets out a slow, deep sigh— the kind that speaks of quiet relief, of tension finally easing as desire takes over.

“It’s so hard,” she chuckles, covering her mouth with one hand, a playful glint in her eyes. With her other hand, she hesitantly traces the waistband of her own panties, fingers trembling slightly as she savors the slow burn between you. There’s no rush—just the tension of anticipation, every second stretching out.

“Come back down and let me take your bra off, Eunbi,” you murmur, voice low and steady, eyes locking with hers. “Just slide your panties to the side.”

She crawls closer, leaning down so you can wrap your arms around her waist and unhook her bra with ease. Her breath brushes against your ear as she whispers, “can’t help but crave my body?”

“Whatever you say,” you murmur playfully, pulling her face closer to press a soft kiss to her lips. Your eyes close as your arms tighten around her. Your tongues dance slowly, teasing and exploring, exchanging heated breaths that mingle with the warmth of the room. Every second, you lose yourself more—the feel of her body, the taste of her lips—completely captivated by such a beauty.

But all that tenderness disappears the moment she breaks away from your lips with a heavy breath and sits upright. “I can’t wait any longer, Oppa.”

You clearly see the dark, damp spot spreading on her panties—proof enough that you’ve already stirred something deep inside her. Without even touching, you’ve got her this wet. The anticipation in Eunbi’s eyes is unmistakable as she slowly crawls back, settling on one knee while spreading the other leg wide. You reach out your hand, offering support in case she loses balance on the soft bed.

Eunbi spits on her hand and wraps it around the tip of your cock as it throbs from a touch. Then with a quick glance at you, she slides her panties to the side and slowly brushes the tip of your cock on her pussy in a teasing way before she slips it in. Both of you exchange a moan the moment you feel the tight hug and Eunbi feeling the length of your cock sliding into her slick walls.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, followed by a soft grunt. Your cock hasn’t even fully disappeared inside her, yet, Eunbi is already struggling to take every inch.

“Don’t rush it, Eunbi,” you let out a breath, feeling the warmth of her walls tighten around your cock.

Her breath catches, and a soft whimper barely escapes her lips. “Oh my gosh,” Eunbi moans, voice trembling with a mix of surprise and pleasure as she arches her back.

You gently grasp her wrist, guiding Eunbi down to lie on top of you. She exhales a heavy, shuddering breath as your bodies press close. “You feel so good, Eunbi,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire for every touch of her skin.

“You’re really stretching me out," she murmurs with her breath soft against the pillow, the warmth of her tits pressing onto your chest. Eunbi moves slowly, riding you with a measured rhythm, savoring each sensation of your cock penetrating her tight pussy—just enough to keep the pleasure building without overwhelming herself and you.

Your lips trail along her shoulders, tasting the warmth of her skin as she muffles a soft moan into the pillow. Your breaths grow heavier, syncing with the rhythm of her movements, while your hands roam freely, exploring the curve of her back before reaching down to her ass. You grab and squeeze, claiming them like it’s all yours with a gentle slap right after.

“So—,” she catches her breath, “aggressive.”

“Sounds like you enjoy it,” you reply back to her with a growl.

“I love it. A lot.”

And that was the last conversation for a few minutes. She’s not riding you hard. She takes every inch slowly, savoring the moment while your cock disappears in and out of her. You let Eunbi moan freely while hearing your own breath catch in her ear. It’s a wordless, therapeutic exchange—your bodies speaking for each other in perfect harmony.

“Eunbi,” you gulp and let a breath out, breaking the passionate silence, “hold on.”

“Can’t help it?” Eunbi murmurs, pausing as she feels your cock throbbing deep inside her. She leans close to your ear, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “I don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Well, if she doesn’t want you to cum yet, you want her to, on your cock, from your very hands. You’ll make this Waterbomb goddess breathless with her toes curling up. “May you sit up, Eunbi? I want to see how pretty you are.”

That’s one way to make Eunbi’s heart skip a beat. She’s not used to hearing this side of you, and it catches her completely off guard.

“A little flirty, aren’t you?” she gets up slowly from the pillow, chuckling with a smile. Her smile is charming—you’ll admit it, but your attention starts shifting to her tits. She tracks your eyes and grabs your hands, guiding you to touch her tits. “I know you love them.”

“Who honestly wouldn’t?” you murmur and squeeze her tits, playing with them as she grinds on your cock. She holds onto both your forearms as grip while continuing to grind on you.

“Such big arms,” she seductively says, letting out a quiet moan and stares at you for a reply. “How lucky would a woman be to have you?”

“Extremely,” you say, teasing her. She quickly rolls her eyes, getting so annoyed of your cheeky response. It’s almost like she expected that. “What’s wrong, Eunbi?” you softly chuckle to play innocent, when you can assume she’s hating.

“Fuck you,” she chuckles along with you and pauses from grinding to guide your hands to her hips.

“But you are though,” you quickly reply, staring at each other in the eyes, which, you aren’t going to look away until she does. “Take a breath, Eunbi. Slow down if you have to. We have time.”

“Why do you stare at me like that, Oppa?” she says, brushing her thumb on your arm.

“Like… what?”

“You have charming eyes. No one told you?”

You shrug, unsure if she’s just bluffing because she’s on top of you with your cock deep inside her.

“It’s a compliment, by the way,” she murmurs and rides you slowly, not breaking eye contact. But you can clearly see how pink her cheeks have gotten. Slowly, you trace one hand down from her tits to her crotch as she lets go from your arms and place it on your chest. You slowly rub her clit as she lets out a whimper with her body quivering. “It’s sensitive, Oppa,” she moans.

Well, that just makes it a whole lot easier.

“I want you to cum, Eunbi.”

She stops riding you once the tip of your fingers rub her clit in circles. Eunbi’s moans get loud, neither are you stopping when your cock is lodged so deep that you can feel every pulsation from her walls. She struggles to even position still on top. You’re enjoying this, a lot. Just hearing the beautiful voice of hers makes you want more.

“Oppa,” she murmurs out with a groan and her body starts quivering uncontrollably, grinding gently on your cock. Eunbi’s breath turns heavier, arching her back, closing her eyes as she faces up towards the ceiling, cumming hard with her hands gripping onto your chest. It’s a sight to see her tits mashing each together with the body spasms as she continues to whimper and moan. Eunbi quickly grabs onto your hand, stopping you from rubbing her clip. She can’t handle more as she lets out a gasp, begging you to take it a little easy on her.

“Come back down, Eunbi,” you murmur, pulling her down as you’re greeted with her tits in your face. So without a single hesitation, you suck on them—both sides in respectful turns. Her breaths are still heavy as she rides out her orgasm. You burry your face between them and catch a breath, all while she smiles from all the sensitive nerves being felt from her chest and your cock.

“I told you my pussy is very sensitive,” Eunbi chuckles in between her breaths.

“Couldn’t help it,” you murmur, not a thought of stopping from feasting on her tits.

She continues to ride your cock slowly. There’s a sense of shyness from Eunbi after you made her cum. Every subtle touch and attention of yours makes her have some closure like she wanted.

You take a breath as she doesn’t stop pushing back down onto your cock. “Keep going. Just like that, Eunbi.”

“Love it that much?” she murmurs and lets out a seductive chuckle.

“Yeah,” you utter, gasping. Your hands reach to her ass for a tight, yet gentle squeeze.

Eunbi can tell you’re reaching your limit from how creamy and slick your cock’s penetrating into her. If Eunbi can make you have a memory of her, she’ll want this next moment to be for you. If she’s all smiling and laughing on your screen, Eunbi wants you to know that there’s still unfinished business the more she waits for a second time together.

“Cum,” she murmurs, kissing your neck, “cum inside this tight, little pussy.” Then she takes a quick breath, “it’s all yours, handsome.”

“Don’t slow down,” you gasp, grunting as Eunbi smiles by the way she picks up the pace. Feeling every throb, every breath onto her tits, and hearing your moans, you cum, making her feel the warmth of you cumming inside her. However deep Eunbi wanted it, you couldn’t stop cumming from how good this felt.

Eunbi pauses with your cock throbbing less and less every second. You feel her lips pressing against your neck, then up to your own. She gives you a kiss on the lips, almost like a passionate thank-you gift—another one.

“I let you cum in me for a reason, Oppa,” she murmurs, quickly pressing her lips back onto yours, intentionally not letting you speak a word. However, you’ll throw that to the side for now when her soft lips are craving more.

——

Eunbi lies beside you, her fingers gently tracing the edges of the bandage on your arm. You run your hand through her hair with slow care, both of you half-dressed, bodies still warm from the closeness. The room is quiet, wrapped in a kind of peaceful intimacy.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asks out of the blue, her voice soft and curious. Her pointer finger begins to trace slow circles over the bandage on your arm where the wound rests beneath. It’s a gentle, soft gesture—part playful, part intimate—as if she’s feeling out your answer not just in words, but through your body.

“The sex?” you reply.

“Yeah,” she chuckles shyly, unable to look at you.

“I did, Eunbi.”

She’s glad you enjoyed it, and with a smile, she giggles, “I needed that after working so hard for these past few months. I feel so… relieved.”

“It just had to be with me, wasn’t it?” you chuckle and tease her as she looks down at the side of your stomach where your stitches were.

“I couldn’t help it, Oppa. You let me in your home despite the fame I have. I’m sure I wasn’t the only woman in this bed.”

“You don’t think any less of me for that… do you, Eunbi?” you ask quietly, your gaze steady but your tone carrying the weight of curiosity.

“I get it. And I don’t think I’m the only one who’d feel this way. You didn’t treat me like some celebrity when I walked in. You weren’t chasing after anything, not my fame, not my body. It didn’t feel like you had some hidden motive. You’re… a good guy. I respect that.”

You look at Eunbi with a genuine smile, meeting each other’s eyes, “thank you.”

It’s a simple compliment, bit enough to make her heart flutter. “If anything, I should be the one saying thank you,” she murmurs with a small smile.

“Then kiss me if you mean it,” you laugh as she playfully hits you on the chest gently.

“You’re annoying,” Eunbi chuckles.

“But I’m too hot to be annoying, right?”

She’ll ignore the question, only because she doesn’t want to admit it again. “Do you want me to stay over tonight? Actually, may I? If you’re not busy?”

“I have a debriefing tomorrow in the early afternoon. Will that work for you?”

“What’s that?”

“Just going over about what happened yesterday. What went wrong, what could have been prevented, you know, those stuff. It’s required.”

“Are you there as the Boss or a colleague?”

You smirk, and teasingly chuckle in her face with no intentions of telling her.

She rolls her eyes at you with a chuckle. “Okay, yeah, I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon too. Give me your phone number before I forget.”

[boyfhee]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤCAT & MOUSE ，yjw

𝗘𝗣 𝗢𝟭 ❛ 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗀𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖾, 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎.　❜

𝗦𝗧★𝗥ㅤㅤ’ ㅤ 𝑓𝘪𝘭𝘮────flirty neighbour jungwon x fem readerㅤㅤ❀ㅤㅤteasing, skinship, reader is described as someone shortㅤ 2O4Oㅤ REQUESTED

jungwon has been waiting.

with squinted eyes and frequent sighs, clock ticking on the wall and yet, he checks the one on his wrist every minute. his patience runs thin with every tick of the second hand that is in synchrony with the tap of his foot.

a minute passes. then another.

he gives up.

“you should get down and let me do that,” there’s an edge to his voice, one laced with irritation.

“i can do it—” and you speak of determination as you reach out for the bulb on your ceiling, only to miss it by a brush of your fingers. “—shit,”

it’s all out of spite.

you’re not half interested in talking to your very hot neighbour and asking him to change the fused bulb. it simply slipped out of your lips and jungwon, being the lovely guy next door he is, waltzed inside your apartment as if it belonged to him.

the light is barely within your reach and his eyes are going back and forth between you and the stool, afraid you might fall. “your stubbornness is going to land you in a hospital,”

you shoot him a glare from your periphery. “i said, i can do it!”

worse, he shouldn’t have undermined your ability to change light bulbs, despite your height, or rather the lack of it— as he says it— because now you’re set on doing it yourself.

you’re not that short, never felt it until jungwon moved in next door with his habit of patting your head every time you pass by, until he started leaning down to hear you talk knowing well he isn’t much taller than you.

it’s all his fault.

“get down. i’ll—”

“if you keep your mouth shut, i might actually be able to focus,” you cut him off sharply, barely balancing yourself on your tippy toes over the wobbly stool that’s supported by his hands.

just a little bit more.

and you aim to reach higher, extending every single muscle in your limbs if it’s even mortally possible. almost there, and then like a wisp of air, his arm wraps over your legs, the other holding your waist securely, bringing you down to the floor as if you weigh nothing.

“i almost did it, idiot!”

he scoffs at your whines, the huff in your cheeks and at the way your brows furrow in annoyance. “yeah, i’ve been seeing that for the last thirty minutes,”

the proximity between you two doesn’t even cross your mind until his arm tightens around your waist and he effortlessly moves you to the side in one swift motion.

he pushes you down gently against the nearest chair, taking a good few seconds to look at your pretty face. “you look mad,”

and it’s like he is stating the obvious. “i am mad. i would have done it on my own if you hadn’t interrupted,”

he huffs at your insistence, half annoyed half admiration. there’s that bark in your words even when you’re sitting with his hands on the arm rest, caging you in between. “give it up, shorty,”

you squint your eyes. “shut up,”

“make me,” he bends closer, head hanging dangerously low for your sanity and his too, in fact. you look attractive when you’re mad. “make me shut up,”

you want to wipe that shit eating grin off his face, to strip him off that facade and make him feel out of place just the way he does to you. your eyes move down to his lips that are slightly parted, almost invitingly.

it would be crazy to kiss him. you can do it— you shouldn’t, but then you gulp, gravitating towards him on your own, slow, hesitant, with a tilt in your head.

“oops!” and he backs off with a laugh, hands up in the air almost mockingly. he stands up on the stool to fix the light, acting ever so smug and insufferable. “duty calls,”

although, you don’t miss the way his ears turn red.

[saetiate]

call it what it is. (or, the five times sae and you are "just friends". and the one time it stops being possible to deny what this really is.)

itoshi sae x f!reader fluff. friends to lovers, first kiss, how love happens, reader goes by she/her pronouns and has some personality (sorry, i couldn't get around it bc of The Plot but i kept it as minimal as possible) word count: 2.3k author's note: you both have a whole dinner date, go to events together, take care of each other, and then get surprised when people think you're dating??? okay so the sound of fireworks are less obvious than whatever yall have going on

Bitterness churns at the back of your throat. Is it from the roasted beans of the coffee you've been slamming into your system for the last few days, or from the lack of sleep?

Not that it matters. You've worked OT, both your team and your clients are unhappy, and according to your Excel worksheet, you're on your 85th job application. So really, it doesn't get worse than —

The doorbell rings.

Who the actual —

You breathe out the biggest sigh at the pretty face standing before you. It's definitely the lack of sleep, isn't it? Either you really should've checked the peephole and put on something a little more flattering, or he's a hallucination.

Let's hope it's the latter. You move to close the door, and his hand reaches out lightning-quick, holding it still. In a spark of annoying rebellion, you press all of your body weight against the door, and it doesn't budge an inch.

Right. Athletes and their stupid, stupid strength.

"You didn't answer my calls."

They say sighing is a necessary part of your lungs, that one of the struggles of artificial lungs was getting them to sigh. You wonder if it meant this many times in a day. "Sae, I'm busy. Wait, I didn't answer your calls? You don't answer my texts 90% of the time."

Then he's in your entryway, because of course you can't argue where your neighbors can hear, that's rude. But then he's in your kitchen, washing his hands, opening your fridge.

"There's nothing in here. When's the last time you took a shower?"

"You come here just to insult me?"

A towel hits your face with an oof before it falls into your arms.

"Sae," you try again, as the towel slides down your cheek, "You can't just barge in here and —"

20 minutes later, there's two steaming bowls of katsu curry rice on your now-clean desk. Sae opens up the little ziplock of togarashi, leans it against your bento box with more care than you'd expect.

"Itakadimasu."

~

It's the strangest thing, walking into your place only for someone to already be in there. How the noise cuts through, something unbelonging but welcomed.

"You know, giving you the key wasn't so you could just walk in here whenever you want. It was for emergencies only."

The only answer you get is the smell of onions being caramelized, crackled sparks of savory in the air.

"I answered your call," you continue, undressing behind a half-open door. "So this can't be an emergency. And you have a much nicer place than this."

Sae barely glances at you as your head peeks into the kitchen. "You could stay there."

"What, with you? Like we're roommates? Nah, you'd see what a mess I am."

"I'm already seeing it."

A spatula waves in little circles around the pan.

“What are you doing here, Sae?”

Like he's already braced for the question, the refrigerator light beacons out into the descending night. Your favorite wine passes from his hand to yours.

"Got gifted it," he responds before you can even ask. You could've caught him looking at you, but the gold label glints with stars in your eyes.

"How'd you get gifted icewine? You've never talked about it in an interview."

He doesn't tell you he asked his manager for recommendations, that he knows they let it slip to someone looking for a brand deal with him. Instead, he watches as you struggle to pop the cork open, the xylophone clink of ice into twin wine glasses.

"So you do like sweet things," you comment as the nectared drink meets your tongue with a smile. There's a reverence to it: how he watches you chop the vegetables before sliding them into the pan, how the last remnants of today's sunlight filter through the window and past your hair.

Sweet things. He supposes he does like something like that.

~

"This event, is it a big deal?"

He vaguely hears a ruffle of clothing behind the half-shut bathroom door, lightstream swept across the floor. He offered you what he knows his teammates get their wives for these events — stylist, makeup artists — but he watched you stand in his bathroom layering on eyeshadow for yourself anyways.

I don't trust anyone else to touch me. A simple statement made stark.

"Sorry, Sae. Could you help zip me up please?"

Maybe it's that implication, that hidden trust you place in him, that makes his exhale a little shaky as one of his hands wraps around your waist to hold the dress down, the other carefully pulling up metal piece up.

You've often thought athletes would naturally be aggressive. You've seen Sae make a fast pass across the entire field without breaking a sweat. But when his hands are on you, they're always light. You think of the falling of snow, its soft and silent touch that comes unexpected, the easy descent it makes before it melts into the ground.

Love is a little like that, maybe.

~

It's a common feeling, to feel as if you're completely alone in this world. Easy to get into your own head, to see only yourself within four walls again and again and forget that there is a whole world outside. It's logical, well-researched, known. It's because of that that you can factor out the feelings when it hits you.

The four walls has never felt as striking as now, coughing into the hollow quiet. The morbid thought strikes that if you died here, no one would know. They'd find your body days later, after the smell starts to waft out.

But you chose this. To move and to fight and to create a life worth living. You, with your ambitions and heavy heart and endless survival faith that makes you somehow believe you can still make it. Sometimes you have to force a door close before wrenching another one open with nothing but your bare hands. Sometimes you have to swallow all your pride and roll up your sleeves and pray to no higher gods you worship that the decision you made is worth it.

You think you hear something click as your mind fogs back and forth into sleep. You hope whoever's burgling you will at least leave you alone and only take what they need. You hear your name, and then a shuffle, and god this is really the worst time to have a stalker.

The back of a hand over your forehead is cool to the touch, the night's breeze still pressed between the molecules.

"You're sick."

Thank you, intruder, for pointing out the obvious is what you want to say. But instead, your head lulls heavily to the side. "I just need to rest for a bit."

"You need a hospital."

"I'm fine. I'm just- being dramatic. But I'm fine."

Your world tips on its axis, warmth blooming into your side. He lifts you into his arms soundlessly. You almost envy how effortless it is for him; the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself.

It's only halfway towards his car that you find yourself processing, finally speaking, "Thank you, Sae."

There's a sharp intake of breath from him, the hard line of his body protecting you from the night's chilled-sweet air. His heartbeat against your ear is as steady as the shore, the way it waits for the kiss of the tide.

"Just call me next time."

~

Sae's not sure how he feels about this.

It's his first time being late when he's meant to be taking you to this event. He moves fast through the crowd, searches with keen eyes. Chandeliers flicker and crystal-light dances —

Only to find you propped up against the wall, Rin leaning down close.

Sae might be less confused if Rin didn't look — for what might be the first time at an event ever — like he actually wanted to be there. He's listening to you with all his attention, has no problem being in your space.

Sae only approaches once you've been whisked away by Bachira.

"Why were you talking to her?"

Rin whips around, and instead of looking guilty, he's in wide-eyed shock, and then narrow-eyed annoyance. "Ha? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Sae blinks. Did he say that? He would've remembered, wouldn't he?

"You good-for-nothing older brother," Rin's voice is a grunt, nothing like the sweetness he gave you. "You didn't even introduce me. I had to fucking find out through Isagi."

"How does Isagi know?"

"Oliver."

"How does Oliver know?"

Rin gives him an begrudged, deadpan look. "He's your teammate?"

That explains nothing. Actually, Sae is even more confused. He has about a dozen more questions.

"She's nice." Rin mumbles low, playing with the stem of his wine glass, watches as it almost tips before swooping it back up.

"You like her?"

"I think she's nice." Rin grits, and Sae really doesn't know how Rin gets away with faux passes on the field when his reactions are this obvious, because he watches how his eyes grow with realization as another thought passes through his brain. "You don't like her?"

"I like her." Sae accepts quickly.

"Ha??? Then what are you asking me for?!"

~

If Sae's being honest, he knows he has more than enough. He wonders what this thing is that he's had since he was born, never satiated even as he reaches the top. He thinks about how Bachira describes his 'monster', a childlike wonder, whether this is his own version of something like that.

But even the blackhole-depths of his greed doesn't anticipate wanting you. Like remembering the sea upon the drink of an oyster. A second breath, heart soaked with knowing.

What am I doing, sleeping in his bed? The night grows darker with every step, so the invite was innocuous enough. You sink into the mattress and the blanket of night muffles the fear, the thought that love is never so easy. There will be complications and contracts —

You turn to him and all the braveheart strength seeps out of you. Maybe you can put it down here, just for a moment.

He looks at you love-first, in a thousand colors, something he can't find with anyone else. He brushes the hair from your face so delicately, you find yourself stuck between watching his relaxed expression and fluttering your eyes shut to absorb the feeling. The back of his fingers caress your cheek, a butterfly's wing.

"Are you happy? Satisfied?"

Sae is not abstract. It's a vague but concrete question. You understand him at first glance.

"Not yet," you exhale honestly. "I have more to do. I'm gonna get there."

I'm gonna be the person I want to be. And by that time, I'll also be —

I'll also be the kind of girl you'd consider worth dating.

"Just wanna be worth it," you smile weakly instead.

He looks at you with a tenderness that feels dangerous. You think of a bird's first flight, the swoop of the fall. The crackle of a flame before it eats the firewood.

"People are worth something the moment they're born," he recites with no inflections.

"I know that."

"You're the one who said that." It's not accusatory, it's a reminder: your own truth, a perception of love you've been made the exception of. It's too heavy with degradation for him to feel comfortable focusing on, so instead he asks something he knows.

"If you had everything you want now, would it be enough?"

You sit up, his eyes following you. Your body heat no longer pressed against his feels like a loss, something he's sure to correct.

"No. You know that's not how it works." You should know, better than anyone.

He does know. That greed is a bottomless abyss, ambition an infinite sky. There is no amount of good enough that could ever make it all feel worth it.

His hand circles around your wrist, pulls you in on top of him until you're chest to chest.

Love is not your right. Shattered somethings cradle your heart. Trees can grow around items. You wonder if your heart is the same — muscle grown strong around fractured glass, a whisper of a cutting edge with every beat.

If you're always going to want more, be better, go further —

Could you have a little something in the now?

He's so close to you now that it fills your mind completely. He's not naked but he feels so bare under you, your hands framing his cheeks, soft skin brushing against your fingertips. One of his hands skates up your back, the other slides up your jaw, cups the back of your neck.

You wonder when you started letting him touch you like that.

He treats you so gently, so unlike the overwhelming emotion that crashes into you. Both lightweight and heavy, you feel swept under, you just want to anchor onto something —

His lips touch yours and everything falls into place.

~

"How'd you know about her?"

Oliver could make it easy for him. He won't, because getting a reaction out of Sae is much more fun. Instead, he tries and fails to feign ignorance. "Who?"

"My girlfriend."

Oliver leans his head back against the wall, a playful smile over his face. "So she is your girlfriend. Loyal too."

Sae narrows his eyes.

"Relax. I just talked to her at one of those events you brought her to."

"You talked to her?"

Oliver gets the sense that Sae is trying to make it sound like a normal question, but all it sounds is exactly how annoyed he feels.

"She just said she's waiting for you."

notes: unbelonging is not a word, i used it anyways on purpose to strengthen the idea of something not belonging. nectared and lightstream are also not real words, but i like them. twin wine glasses is kind of a reference to twin flames, though i do think you and sae are actually soulmates. i wonder if people can be both. "the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself" is a double meaning, not just your body weight but everything else you carry too.

call it what it is: / a love created, hand-sculpted to fit. / a silent reprieve, / to be seen, / constellations bursting at the seams. / unfounded heart, / a tepid start,/ an easy, soft-sweet thing. / say what this really is. / place it on the justice scales of the abyss. / what you're meant to be / versus what you choose / you can decide you have a right to this.

[hellowoolf]

something, somehow, someday

chapter 4: close to you | prev | next | series masterlist

series summary: you know you will love satoru for the rest of your life, but when you wake with his cursed energy in your navel there is no option but to flee. what future is there for a child of a god? at 18 satoru is without you, and you make off with a piece of him you hoped he'd never meet.

pairing: secret baby daddy!gojo x reader

tags: secret child trope, angst (lots), eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, a lot of yearning :P, chapter specific: SMUT, unprotected piv, creampie (sorry), fingering,

a/n: thank you guys for your responses on the poll! this one is more than double the average length of the other chapters (~8k) and i plan to keep that convention from here on out. i hope you enjoy this one >:)

18+! minors dni <3

~~~~~~~

it is a funny feeling, YOU find, making your life new with a thing so familiar. to open your door so often and find satoru standing there, letting him bring food and splaying himself on your couch, walking with him in the heavy mist at dusk, it fills your lungs like smoke, the nostalgia thick and cloying. you remember all of it, it comes back to you embalmed.  

but the differences between now and your time together in high school demand your attention in equal measure. your son, for one: though it’s impossible to find the sight of him with his father unnatural given how obvious their relation is. with their backs turned they move the same, too, something between them irrevocably tied. you had forgotten the way satoru wrought blades of grass between his fingers when he laid in it until you had to clean both their palms of chlorophyll.

nonetheless your affection for satoru is much more hulking a thing than it ever was, supplanted by the tangible aftermath of the ways you used to love him. when takara lets him pick him up, grips to his collar as satoru balances him on his hip, you are defenseless. the softest parts of you win out. 

still, neither you nor satoru make any attempt to name the arrangement you’ve come upon. he is resolutely your child’s father and has stepped into that role with grace, and there are artifacts of your intimacy—his hand on your lower back, brushing your hair from your shoulder blades, an almost kiss, once—but mostly you let the joy of your child consume your time. 

and it shouldn’t bother you. you remember feeling so certain in high school that letting him fuck you was enough, that to love him quietly was a privilege. you suppose you still mostly believe that. but there are moments when takara is asleep and satoru lingers in your kitchen, and the want flares bright then. you are at a loss watching him leave with that look on his face, like he’s afraid you’ll ask him to stay and terrified you’ll let him leave. you sometimes wait a moment before locking the door behind him.

jujutsu tech stands like a graveyard around you, so full of memory the buildings almost sag. you haven’t been back here since the night takara came to you.

“oi!” satoru bellows from across the courtyard, hand high and wagging. 

takara holds a grip on your pant leg, one blue eye peeking out. you feel him loosen a little when he sees his dad, and then refasten when megumi and tsumiki emerge behind him. 

when satoru first suggested you both come to meet them you had hesitated. you were honest; there was something final about this last introduction. there would be nothing else left for each of you to keep separate from the other, your lives entirely reconnected. satoru had laughed at you in that way that makes your heart turn, and that sound was all it took for you—weak to him—to agree.

satoru comes rushing to takara, scooping him from behind you and holding him to his side. takara screeches, half afraid and half delighted. tsumiki walks to you without hesitation, little hand held out for you to shake. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” she says. her smile is soft, a little secret, but you can tell she is pleased with herself for her manners. you smile back.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.” 

she looks up at takara in satoru’s arms and waves. takara is frozen, too shy to move, so satoru takes his chubby wrist and waves it a little. tsumiki giggles. “they’re like twins.”

you lean in a little conspiratorially. “i know. i carried him for nine months and have nothing to show for it.”

she giggles behind her hand before turning to her brother. “don’t be rude,” she admonishes.

megumi cannot hear her, it seems. he’s watching takara paw at satoru’s shirt, turning in his hold as gojo points to the various buildings to explain what they are. to himself, or maybe to you, megumi whispers: “it’s so freaky.”

tsumiki scoffs lightly and goes to elbow him but you can only laugh again, louder this time. he may not be related to satoru but he was certainly raised by him. “you are exactly as satoru described,” you admit.

megumi furrows his brows and crosses his arms. yes, so furious, satoru had said once. “how exactly did he describe me?”

“as a little shit,” satoru offers, one palm now cupped over takara’s ear. megumi’s mouth falls open a moment before making a fist with each hand and bringing them in front of him. satoru only rolls his eyes and uses his knee to knock his arms out of place. megumi practically growls something about i’m really gonna do it someday and tsumiki taunts back at him: you’re such a liar!

oh, but that look on satoru’s face, he is so pleased. his eyes squint with it, you can almost see the satisfied breathing of his cursed energy, satoru is happy. it makes you beam at him and his breath catches when he sees it. 

takara wriggles out of his grip and stations himself at your legs again, but doesn’t hide this time. tsumiki is completely enamored, cooing again, “hi, takara!”

takara sucks in a little breath. “hello.”

tsumiki claps her hands together and looks up at you and gojo. “can we show him around? please?”

“what is there to show?” satoru asks.

“the training room, our old bedrooms, the koi fish—”

your eyes widen. satoru’s gaze flits to you, frantic, and you smirk, the tiniest thing. the koi fish? you mouth. satoru’s cheeks flush pink as he shakes his head slightly, but the damage is done, he knows. tsumiki is still listing menial places across campus.

you squeeze takara’s shoulder. “what do you think, bubba?” he looks at you, owlish, and then at tsumiki, before nodding. she takes his hand with a pleased squeal and the three putter off together.

satoru stands boyish before you as you straighten again. he tends to keep his blindfold off around takara—whether to keep from frightening him or for a more profound reason you don’t know—but he is bared to you without it. he knows exactly what you’ll say, lifting a hand as he turns and starts towards his office: “don’t.”

you skip to catch up with him. “oh, no, i think i have to.”

“i’m just a friend to nature.”

you howl. “you’re just as dishonest as you always were.”

he doesn’t dignify that with a response, pushing into his office and letting you inside. the walls are a dark wood, mostly bare save for the few bookshelves bloated with old novels and records and manila folders. a handful of pens scatter across the desk, like he’d needed to finish a sentence urgently before standing. there’s a record player on the windowsill, fuzzy with dust but clean in places around the arm. it looks like he’d used it recently for the first time in years. most of all it smells like him, mint and cedar and sugar, and you almost double over sick with it. 

satoru settles into his chair as you trace a finger along the spines of his books, his eyes igniting your back but you refuse to turn, you want him to watch. “you’ve done a great job with them,” you admit.

“you think so?”

you just barely twist your head over your shoulder to show him the sincerity on your face. “of course i do.”

he runs a hand through his hair. “they seem to like takara.”

you turn fully now to lean your back on the shelf. “everyone likes takara.”

he chuckles, fond. “yeah, i guess so.”

the sounds of this place are so startlingly the same, you think. the serenity is strange and charged, but nonetheless campus was always quiet enough to hear the wind through the leaves. you hear it now as you flip through mission files and reports: special grade, special grade, grade one, special grade, suguru geto. you put them down.

“is it weird to be back?”

you nod, gesturing around the room. “i’ll admit i was hoping for more of a welcome. is nobody else here?”

“yeah, i asked them to give us the afternoon so takara wouldn’t be overwhelmed for his first time.”

you pout, mainly to bare your lip to him but there is truth in it, too. “nobody wanted to see me?”

satoru shakes his head. “i wanted you all to myself,” he admits. and it’s teasing, easy, he says it like it doesn’t cost him anything, but you know he is like you: he almost never says something he doesn’t mean.

“how did they react when you told them?”

“that i have a son? kept a secret by his villainous mother?”

your eyes narrow but you’re grinning as you respond: “yeah.”

he cocks his head and kisses his teeth. “yaga said he was disappointed in you.”

“for leaving?”

“no, for letting me…” he smiles, wolfish for a second before it fades into something friendlier, “for giving me the opportunity.” you laugh, a bark of a sound, halfway humiliated. you nod him on. “and shoko was the one who found you, so, there wasn’t anyone else to tell.”

your hand finds your arm and you squeeze your bicep once, twice, swallowing around the tragedy in his confession: that all the people you used to know here are gone somehow. you hadn’t visited haibara’s grave since you left; nanami helped you lug a stone out by the stream and you grew flowers around the base, yellow pansies and red carnations. you remember kento pointing to them in a flower language book so you could conjure them properly, remember the promise you made not to tell a soul what they meant. 

the memory must show on your face, because satoru says then, “i still water those flowers you made by haibara’s grave.”

you smile at him, watery and real. you add on, “and feed my fish,” and he laughs like a surrender. 

you move to the record player just behind him and he swivels his chair to follow you. something seizes in your belly at the feeling of him scrutinizing you, the weight of his looking a leaden thing against your skin. you thumb through the few vinyls resting in the window before stopping on one. the words stick to your teeth like honey but you spit them as best you can: “this is mine.”

you hear satoru stand and look over your shoulder. frank sinatra’s close to you: the sleeve is long stained and yellowed, waterlogged in one corner, but the record inside is pristine. 

you remember the first time your grandmother taught you how to play her gramophone. her hands guided your smaller ones across the pavilion, down to the plateau; it was old and rusted, even then, something she’d bought second hand as a girl. but she had collected hundreds of records, they made piles throughout her home, and every afternoon you selected one to play. close to you was her gift to you when you entered jujutsu tech.

of course, you never had a record player. all three years it sat unused on your desk, a remembrance, still smelling like the tatami from her living room. she had told you once that sinatra taught her how to speak english, which you mostly believed; her english vowels opened with the syrup of the american east-coast, and she held each word a moment too long, like it took a great deal of effort not to sing them. 

you run your knuckles along the sleeve, feeling the still-familiar places where the gloss has faded and the paper catches. you hardly notice how close to your back satoru has drifted until he reaches around you to remove the record and situate it on the player. you freeze, his looming figure warm around you, his arms brushing your shoulders as he fiddles with the tone arm. you hope he can’t feel your heartbeat through your spine, but it rushes so deafening in your ears you cannot discern either way.

it could happen to you crackles to life from the speaker and you feel like you’ve been swallowed by space, on the cusp of a wrinkle. you wonder whether time has really suspended around you or if it’s only this, this song and this man at your back. your breathing is uneven and satoru does not step back, head craned a little to bring his chin closer to your shoulder. 

slowly, almost self-consciously, he braces each hand on the sides of the windowsill, keeping you surrounded. 

“it’s been so long since i’ve heard this song,” you whisper. the melody chimes and swings around the violin and you cannot help but tilt your head back a little into satoru’s chest, overcome with the ghost of the music as it hangs above you. satoru lets your weight lean slightly into him, unmoving.

“i hope it’s okay that i took it.” his voice rumbles through your bones before you hear it. you nod and it scrapes against his sternum. the friction stirs something in him, you think, because then he’s bringing a hand to your stomach, fingers long and splayed across your entire torso, and he rests his cheek fully on the back of your head. it would almost look like you were dancing if you began to move, but neither of you seem willing to risk it.

“do you ever wonder what it would have been like?”

you don’t need him to clarify. “all the time,” you confess. the sun moves behind the clouds outside, and you catch a moment of the both of you in the reflection. 

his hand tightens around your middle, holding you against him. the song threatens to end but he keeps his arm banded around you. “are we friends now?”

you laugh softly. “i honestly don’t know.”

he nods before bringing his other hand to your chin. he spreads the pads of his fingers, feeling the shape of your jaw, looking for something, for you. “would you let me kiss you, if i asked?”

“yes,” you say, but it comes out more breathless than you intend. your thighs press together and you’re sure he notices with how his hips cage you in, but he only hums, removing the hand around your chin. 

“it’s a bad idea,” he breathes, but still his nose brushes at the juncture of your neck and your shoulder. you shudder and nod. it is. 

and despite how badly you want him, you do not turn and demand it. it’s so precarious now, and with satoru in takara’s orbit you cannot run again, a chain fastened from your rib to his. you know fucking him would be a reckless idea now, but god, he presses one, slow kiss to the bared skin of your shoulder and your body remembers him. his hips press just slightly further into your ass as he sighs onto the same spot, his breath cooling the heat of his lips where they branded you, his cock alive and right there. but the both of you know it: you are cowards. he untangles himself, and you let him sit back in his chair before moving.

~~~~~~~

SATORU is certain now; you are going to kill him. his grave will be beautiful, he thinks, flowery and green and alive with your energy, but his autopsy will have your name all over it, your lipstick.

he supposes, for his part, that much of your proximity is his fault. a stronger man wouldn’t have stayed in your apartment past takara’s waking hours, used his hands to guide you on the sidewalk, held your hips to his cock in his office windowsill earlier today. and satoru has lived a life of self restraint, has been a shackled man to his own whipping post, but he has found himself helpless to the feeling of your body on his skin.

he had been so irreparably hurt when he saw you in the park that day, or at least it had felt that way at the time. something grew in him then, a tumor with teeth, and he was certain it could never feel the same with you as it once had, that he would withhold something precious from you forever in some lasting spiteful act of defiance. and nevermind the fact that even hours later he moved to hold you, could barely restrain the instinct to kiss you again, was never even angry: for about 24 hours, satoru was sure that he would never be in love with you again.

but even the sharp canines of that wound have dulled with weeks of your presence. the smell of you on your couch when he lays on it, the afternoon scenery of you playing with takara in the park curtained by your vines, your laugh in his office, by your door, in his head. you are an apparition haunting him, one he can touch, and it’s killing him. 

and he knows he should not pursue anything with you. he knows you know this, too. your nebulous reconnection is unsteady at best—a strange amalgam of your old intimacy and the people you’ve become—and access to takara is too important to him to risk. and neither of you would say this, but the fact of your leaving in high school remains a reminder that at any moment you are capable of disappearing again. it’s something satoru always loved about you, actually. you make your own life wherever you step. what a beautiful thing you are. 

he feels ridiculous for thinking of you as often as he does. but how could he not? he visits at least daily to spend time with his son and you are always there, a vision. he sees you in takara, too, his little love. when he tries to explain how to use limitless, takara bears down into himself, thinking to the point of exhaustion. he has gotten that from you, satoru knows.

but it wasn’t a conscious thought that satoru has begun falling back into love with you—or, really, that he has plummeted into the well of it—until today, seeing you laugh with megumi . tsumiki had pointed at you from behind your back: she’s so pretty! and he had nodded without thought, proud as if you were his to boast for. and then, your teasing voice nipping at his heels as he brought you to his office, he realized that he was yours. he should have known some time in the thousand minutes he’s spent feeding your koi.

the smell of your cooking wafts into your living room as he reads to takara on his lap. you’re humming that song from earlier, it could happen to you, and the domesticity makes him beam like an idiot. yes, he thinks, that’s about the most succinct way to put it; he is an idiot for you. takara points to the page and reads a sentence himself.

“yes!” satoru encourages.

“don’t yell,” takara says, patting satoru’s leg as though he’d worked himself up.

“yessir.”

“come in to eat!” you call from the kitchen. takara scrambles to the sound of your voice and satoru is no better. the three of you settle to the table, takara’s legs dangling in his chair, and satoru knows he shouldn’t but he presses his foot to yours under the table. you give him a look, fleeting and knowing, but you don’t move. takara eats exactly the way you do, and satoru wonders whether you’ve noticed.

“what time do you go into work tomorrow?”

“i’m opening, actually, so i’ll head to the cafe early,” you grumble. “i’ll take my lunch break at 8 to take takara to preschool.” 

satoru shakes his head. “i don’t have any missions until the afternoon. why don’t i take him?”

“i don’t have an extra key for you.”

“he could sleep over,” takara offers, barely looking up from his food. you look startled by the suggestion, at first, and satoru is sure he looks much the same, but when the shock subsides he cannot help the little grin that tugs his lips up. you cock your head minutely, but he’s known you long enough to know you mean: don’t push it. 

“bubba, there isn’t enough space,” you explain. 

you had told satoru early on that you started in a one bedroom, fixed a nursery in most of it and fit yourself on a twin bed in the corner. when the owner of the cafe retired, though, she had let you have the place. you made enough now to scrape by with two bedrooms; satoru remembers how dignified you were to recount the whole thing, how hard it was not to kiss you when you smiled in your own self-satisfaction. 

“why can’t he sleep in your room?” takara asks. satoru smiles bigger, nudges your foot under the table. 

“because he…can’t.” you’re becoming flustered now and it only thrills him more.

“i really would like to take him,” he offers, though the sincerity is cut with the sound of his smirk.

you run your hands over your face, mumble out a little groan that softens into a hum at the end, but still your foot doesn’t move away from the press of satoru’s under the shadow of the kitchen table. 

“don’t you need to get home to megumi and tsumiki?”

satoru is beaming like he’s already won. he has. “they have a sitter.”

your head tips back as you say, mostly to the ceiling, “fine. but you’re sleeping on the couch.”

and truthfully he doesn’t mind much at all. he is voracious for more time with takara, for more time in your space, for benign moments you might take for granted. he wants to brush his son’s teeth at night and fix his hair in the morning. he taps your foot one more time: thank you. and you nod, almost imperceptibly: you’re welcome. 

~~~~~~~

as much as YOU might have resisted it, there really was about an hour or so when letting satoru sleep on your couch seemed like a good idea. it felt, if you can admit it, easy, the both of you moving around one another as the evening twilight overtook the windows. and it was so plain to see on takara’s face that he was pleased, too, to have you both here. sitting on the edge of his bed together as you tucked him in, watching his first few moments of sleep, made space for a new sort of intimacy. when satoru reached for your hand in the dark you did not pull away.

of course, you regret it now. maybe you’ll regret it forever. by the time you’re brushing your teeth you know you have made an error of cosmic proportions. some time between settling blankets on the couch and joining you in the bathroom satoru had unbuttoned most of his shirt and removed his belt, sidling next to you at the sink with the spare toothbrush you gave him like you weren’t a moment from dropping dead on the counter. you’re too afraid to look at yourself in the mirror; you already know your cheeks are red, that he can feel the rush of your blood in your jugular from inches away. 

“you seem uptight,” he says, though it comes out foamy around the toothpaste in his mouth.

“i’m not used to having people over.” you can’t look anywhere but the porcelain of the sink, too petrified of what you’d say if you looked at him in full. you remember this afternoon in his office and shift on your weight a little.

“you don’t have a lot of sleepovers?” he asks through a grin.

you’re so focused on not making eye contact with him in the mirror that you answer him honestly. “i don’t have any.”

you hear his toothbrush stop. he spits in the sink before leaning on it to face you. “what do you mean you don’t have any?”

you take a deep breath before turning. god he’s so pretty, even more stunning like this, a little unspooled. “what do you want me to say? i’ve never had anyone else to take care of takara. it’s not like i can…” you don’t even know how to end that sentence.

the teasing look leaks from satoru’s face slowly. he asks you with more earnestness than you think you can stand: “have you not had sex since high school?”

it’s not even fully out of his mouth before you’re pushing past him and out of the bathroom but he is relentless behind you—he always was—and you feel him an inch from your back as you walk towards your bedroom door.

“wait a second—”

“satoru, i’m not talking about this with you.”

“no, but i’m being serious.”

“so am i!” you turn at your door and try not to shudder at how close he is. his eyes glow in the low light, a man made of comets.

“i just,” he huffs a little, “i feel bad, i guess.”

“what?”

“well you—you’ve been taking care of takara alone all this time and you haven’t gotten…you haven’t gotten to do—”

“satoru, i don’t need your pity about my sex life, okay?”

“but that’s my point! it’s not just about your sex life, it’s—it’s everything.” he ruffles the back of his head, almost embarrassed, you think. “i feel bad that you’ve been alone all this time.”

you kick your heel against the door behind you to ground yourself. “it’s my fault, isn’t it?” and it comes out a little small, more pathetic than you’ve ever heard yourself. satoru buckles with it.

“baby,” he starts, and you think his hand flexes to reach for you, but you put your palm on his chest to keep him in place. he hasn’t meant to call you that, you know, the endearment from years ago clawing back, finding purchase on his tongue. his heart murmurs like a bird behind his shirt.

“listen, i—i don’t need you to pity me for a decision i made. especially because i don’t regret any of it.”

he breathes out quick, almost angry, but you know not at you. before either of you can stop him, he holds your wrist to keep your hand on him, thumbs your pulse on one side. he does this a lot, you think. you wonder if he knows that you can feel his heartbeat, too, through the pads of his fingers. and there’s a moment, among the sounds of your breathing and the creak of the floorboards under his feet, when you think it is all over, that you’ll let him kiss you against your door. earlier today you felt like a coward for denying him, but that self-flagellation has waned. no, it takes a great deal of courage now to press your hand more firmly into him, to not rise onto your toes and suck at the skin under his jaw.

“goodnight, satoru,” you whisper, and shut yourself into your bedroom before you lose your resolve.

the night is cruel to you. it feels very much like sleeping with a black hole in your living room; you cannot ignore the thought of him draped over your sofa, body too long to fit comfortably. even with your eyes closed you can feel him from a room away. 

you toss under the covers, try to at least become entangled enough in your sheets that you cannot rise from your bed to check on him. you hope he’s fallen asleep by now, that you’re the only one left in this apartment awake.

being alone in the dark gives you more time to think, more time to resolve a decision you cannot yet name. you have been so insistent that to become ensnared again by satoru’s pull would be a mistake, let him leave you at the windowsill, stiff armed him at your door. you wonder whether any of it matters in light of the fact that you are utterly in love with him. of how much consequence could the physical distinction be now? in truth, you can’t tell whether you are freeing yourself from an obsolete stipulation or looking for any reason to abandon it.

in the blue midnight streaking through your curtains you can admit to yourself that a part of you, the fleshy part that wants for things, is simply too afraid that you need satoru more than he needs you, and to reconcile that is a task too treacherous to ask of yourself. what of the moment when, slick with sweat and the smell of sex, you move to kiss him again and he turns away? it’s all hypothetical, of course, but still it plagues you like a memory. and you suppose you have no reason to fear it at all; he has made clear enough that he wants you. 

it almost feels ridiculous to pine so excruciatingly over the father of your child. you’ve already done all of this before, no less as a teenager, and somehow now, a self-actualized adult, you hesitate and turn your knees in. you flip onto your other side with a huff. you’re only in a tanktop and shorts but you feel like you’re suffocating, or worse: something from inside of you is threatening to come loose.

you wonder whether he’s waiting for you in your living room. what a horrific thing to wonder. 

you creak open your door slowly and pad out.

it looks like satoru has given up on sleeping already. he’s sat upright, head tipped over the back of the couch and legs spread, an arm hanging over his eyes. you know he can hear you—you think he might have heard the moment you decided to come out—but he waits for you to address him.

“satoru,” you whisper. at last, he lifts his head, eyes sleepy but undeniably pleased to see you. he pats the spot next to him on the couch as he assesses your mild state of undress and you settle there, facing him. “i can’t sleep.”

he shakes his head. “i can’t either.” though he doesn’t look all that displeased, certainly not as he bends over to collect your legs and drape them over his lap. you let him. you let him drag one enormous hand up your bare leg, too, and he stops just below the knee but still you watch as goosebumps follow his fingers. your body is traitorous but you can’t find it in you to mind.

“when did we get so weird, huh?” he asks you.

“how do you mean?” “sometimes it feels like it used to feel,” he thinks about how you may take that a moment longer, “when we used to be friends.” you nod slowly. “sometimes it feels like i don’t know you at all.” 

honesty looks so pretty on his face. his eyes are slightly narrowed but they’re no less auroral, his lips slightly swollen on the bottom as he bites them between breaths. he points at your nose. “and sometimes, you make that face at me, and i—fuck i mean what am i supposed to do with that?”

you scrunch your nose. “what face am i making?”

“i mean you look—jesus, i don’t know.” he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it further, before continuing, “i just wish you wouldn’t keep thinking in your head.”

you can’t help but laugh softly, bumping your foot into his stomach. “where else am i supposed to think?”

he flails at the sound of your giggle but his lips turn up. “i don’t know! i just spend so much more time now wondering what’s going on in your head. i want to know.” and then, to devastate you further, you imagine, he adds: “you used to tell me.”

you slide a little further into the couch, lay more of your legs’ weight on his lap. he lets his hands drift up to your kneecaps now. “okay, satoru,” you relent. “what do you want to know?”

“you’ll tell me anything?”

“i suppose that’s what i’m offering, yeah.”

he grins. “okay…” he taps his finger on his chin and you snort. “are you still afraid of me being in takara’s life?”

“a little. i’m afraid for both of you. but he…he loves you now, i think. ultimately i’m glad he can know you.”

“what about in your life?”

“what about it?”

“are you glad i’m in your life again?”

you smile, wry. “i think so. even though you torment me and make me spill my secrets.”

he puffs his chest and tugs your legs further into him. you’re almost in his lap, a few inches from it, but whether you notice is a question he decides not to ask. “do you still trust me the way you used to?”

“yes.” you do.

“do you still like me as much?”

“in what way?”

“all of them.”

“you’re greedy,” you whisper.

something punches from satoru’s lungs but you cannot discern what comes out. he says only: “yes, i am. answer me.” 

with a defeated breath you shrug. “yes.” 

his hands have both stalled on your knees, each thumb an omen breaching the threshold of your thigh. your skin twitches, you think, but you can’t look away from his face. he looks like he’s released one foot over the edge of some decision, you can see one teetering moment in the air, and then the resolve sets in.

“do you know how much i still want you?”

your heart kicks. “no,” you confess.

his hands remember themselves again, gripping up your legs higher, higher, now with purpose as they swing around his hips and move you to his lap. straddling him you can feel how hard he is already and you’re certain he can feel your wetness through your shorts, the slick is humiliating and so much. you whine a little and it comes out through your nose. his cock twitches.

“not today in my office?” his right hand cups the back of your neck. “not an hour ago?” your chest rises and falls, stumbling over itself. “you don’t know?”

and you have no faith in your voice now so you only shake your head as much as his hold will allow. he presses his hips into you just once, a fleeting indulgence you’re unsure if he even intended, but you whine again and it looks like it hurts him. 

“let me show you, baby,” he coos, but it’s desperate, too, a prayer into your lips as he brushes his nose against yours. “just one more time.”

you haven’t even finished nodding before you’re kissing him, both of you groaning into the other at the sheer relief of the feeling, his hands grabbing for anything he can reach: around your back, your tit, the globes of your ass to grind you down against him. the fabric of your shorts catches on your clit as it swells and you moan something awful in the back of your throat.

he kisses you like all six years apart demand it, like he can feel how long it’s been in the truest sense, like all at once the wanting has frayed his nerves and your lips cauterize the veins. he bites your lip to make you gasp, taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth as it opens.

you grind your clit onto him again, rubbing little circles on his tip through your clothes and he pants with the pressure. 

“satoru,” you whine, and he ruts up, harder.

“oh, say my name like that again,” he pleads, lips trailing down from your lips to your neck. his tongue streaks hot against your skin, sucking and biting and grinding you onto him like his cock is inside you already.

“satoru,” you repeat, and it comes out clearer without his tongue on yours but just barely. 

“fuck.” he rips your tank top off before attaching to you again, leaving hickies in the hollow of your throat, down over each breast, before taking a nipple into his mouth and laving his tongue there.

your moans almost come out like hums, all strung together, and he preens at the sound of them. you can feel the damp spot on his pants growing as you spread your slick, each wet kiss on your chest demanding a new wave from you. 

“i don’t even need to prep you, do i? you’re already so f–fucking wet,” and he punctuates it with a gyration of his hips that would have made you scream had he not clamped a palm over your mouth. 

you’re almost deaf with the rushing sound of blood in your ears but still you crane to hear him, each filthy utterance a precious thing you covet as he ruts up into you. if you were in your right mind you might find it funny that the experience of dry humping him feels so profound but as it is you can think only of the feeling of his veins through two layers of fabric.

despite how he may have goaded at you he brings one hand down your navel and under your shorts, feeling through your folds and spreading the honey of you further. your mouth is fully dropped open but his hand is large enough to cover it.

“oh, baby—yeah, that’s it, grind on it—you’re dripping for me.” he says it in that pleased way that makes him sound like an animal. you roll your hips onto the pads of his fingers and pleasure shoots up your spine at the rub of them on your clit, around your entrance. he circles his middle finger once before sinking it in and you keen. he holds you still with his other arm, nose pressed to your ear now as he whispers in it.

“f—fuck this pussy is so fucking tight.”

your hole flutters and sucks his digit in and he revels in the grip as he fucks you on it slowly. you try to bounce yourself faster but he squeezes your middle again, bites your pulse as it bumps in your neck. he murmurs there: “let it last,” using his hold to swivel your hips on his hand. your nails grip to his shoulders, surely making marks through his shirt but he lets you, frenetic and buzzing like he gains as much from touching you as you do.

the heel of his palm presses up onto your nub and you bow into him further, and he takes the movement to press another finger alongside the first. something searing and hungry licks up your spine, you’re close already, but there’s no indignity in it. you tug on his hair to bring his face to yours again, pulling back from the hand clamped over your mouth to lick behind his teeth, moaning into his mouth. “cum for me baby, come on,” he encourages.

your eyes squeeze shut as you come undone, heat spasming around his fingers as you soak him to the wrist. “fuck, f–fuck, that’s it,” he curses, mainly to himself, you think. you’re only half-lucid as you come down but you feel him pull his fingers from you and lick them clean, groaning softly around them.

“fuck me, satoru, please.”

his hair doesn’t move as he nods, stuck now to his forehead damp with sweat. neither of you have the patience to remove anything else, simply tugging your shorts to the side and his cock from his pants before you’re dripping right over it. his tip catches on your entrance and you both go half-boneless with the feeling.

when you sink onto him you feel a little like you did in his office earlier in the day. like time has stopped, or maybe like it has all arrived at your fingertips, like you’re everywhere. you remember this feeling, a little bit, but it’s also undeniably new. the stretch burns but you hardly feel it, taking no time before sitting on him to the hilt. your head drops to his shoulder, little pants into his neck, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“fuck you’re so fucking tight, baby, this pussy was made for me,” he chokes into your ear. you each have a handful of the other between your fingers, the lines of your palms tattooing him even through his uniform he still has mostly on. you hope his brand you the same.

all it takes is one, slow pull of your hips before he’s rutting up into you again, not so much ruthless as intense, deep and pregnant with meaning and so precise you wonder whether he’s using his six eyes to assess the inside of you. with one hand he holds your face to his ear to consume your moaning that way. you whine and when he shudders, bucking harder, you whine again.

“o–oh, these sounds are mine, this pussy is mine,” he stutters. the squelch of your cunt sucking him in seems to only encourage him, and you make yourself wetter just hearing it.

“it’s so good, satoru,” you whine.

he laughs softly, manic, “yeah?”

and you only wail quietly again. with each snap of his hips you thrust yourself down, clit throbbing and catching on the little white scratch of his pubic hair, and his other hand, still handled on the plush of your ass, rubs you harder as you move. you vaguely hear your little ah! ah! ah! but mostly you can feel the pleasure building again, can feel the vein down the underside of his cock as you wring him harder.

“hah–i won’t–fuck–i won’t last if you keep squeezing me, baby.”

you only feel encouraged, sliding deeper, revelling more in the slip of your slick as it floods out of you.

“ah–-i’m close, i’m close,” you breathe.

“fuck yeah, i wanna feel you cum on my cock, let go for me.”

and you do. have you ever really denied him? your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your hips buck wildly, the pleasure seizing you from the inside out. satoru moans feeling you ride your high, panting into your ear, “tell me to pull out.”

you shake your head, little smile creeping over your face as he fucks you through your high. “isn’t the damage already done?” you ask breathlessly.

and he can only laugh for a second before his hips stutter and still, pulling you into him like he wants to crawl inside of you and live in your stomach

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

his cum is so hot as it fills you, and so much, your own orgasm jolting you again, exulting in the feeling. 

he drops his forehead to your shoulder now, sweat of your collarbone meeting the beads on his hairline. the sounds of your breathing mix, too; your cum and your hands and your warmth, all of it intertwined with his, maybe forever. he kisses you one more time, sated now, along a hickey he’d left on your neck before. you return one to the corner of his mouth.

he doesn’t say anything when he sits up straight again, supporting the wings of your shoulders with his hands. there is only that look on his face, a cousin to the one you saw the first day he found you and takara, but so recognizably relieved this time: everything is different now.

~~~~~~~

sss taglist:

@emochosoluvr @por0u @vraiao @voidfulcrumdilemma @vaniyeiszero @missingnozw @crowroakchi @seikamuzu @anonymous-3846 @asahinasstuff @kunisnaomi @bl6o6dy @meanderingwistera @lilac-heartz @acowboykisser @miiikooooooo @missingnozw @heiranni @sadmonke @alicebleu @sanchann @splinx04real @lolllllllllllllliiiiiii @eggrollforyou @updated-version @yaurss @khaleesihavilliard @mizzowizzo @mierins @eolivy @spencerreidisagorgman @dahliadaenerys @cantchooseanctbias @fallenfromgrxce @theclassbookworm @liestel @jiasdream @maddy24207 @valoriya @19catspiledontopofeachother @hbhbhbhbhby @bijuu-naginata @jv5t4g1rl @bobagang @thraxpatty @muscovitechick

[hatethysinner]

Remmick reveals himself as a vampire to reader (maybe accidentally as a result of him putting off feeding? 👀) and she’s more than curious and willing to see how this whole thirst for blood thing works

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ꜱɪᴘ

ᴡᴄ: 2.6k

ᴀ/ɴ: WHEN MELEY ASKS I ANSWER! though not in the way she probably expected because the freak bug bit me HARD with this one y'all so sorry in advance girl 😭. it was def all the leftovers from meant to be yours.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 18+ MDNI (!!!!!), pathetic!remmick overload, creep!remmick if you squint, freaky!reader, established relationship, vampirism, blood, bloodplay, arousal caused by bloodsucking, inappropriate use of drool, dry humping, thighfucking (yes i went there), excessive use of pet names, excessive use of italicization, fast pacing

@jimmys-tiara

The day had been strange.

Not loud about it. Not obvious.

Just strange.

Remmick was still himself—polite, gentle, a little awkward in the ways that made him endearing. Still kissed your temple when he passed behind you in the kitchen. Still opened doors like it was a habit he couldn’t shake. Still called you darlin’ like the word was sacred.

But something was off.

It was in the way he moved. Like every step took thought. Like his body didn’t want to cooperate. He moved slower than usual, and not in his usual unhurried way. This was hesitation. Strain.

You’d asked if he was feeling alright sometime around lunch, when he barely touched the tea you brought him. He just smiled that soft, bashful smile, said, “Feelin’ a bit worn down, s’all. Long night,” and squeezed your hand.

But the hours ticked on, and it got worse.

By dusk, he was sitting rigid on the edge of the couch, hands clasped too tight between his knees, eyes following you with a focus that didn’t feel like Remmick. Like his body was in the room but his thoughts were very, very far away.

You’d offered dinner. He declined.

Said the smell of meat was making his stomach turn.

So now, it was just you.

Washing dishes with the windows cracked open to let in the summer night, the scent of honeysuckle thick in the air. Your hands moved absently through warm, soapy water, and for a while, the only sound in the house was the hush of running water and the soft creak of the old fan rotating from the corner of the living room.

Until you glanced over your shoulder.

And saw him watching you.

No—staring.

Not at your eyes. Not at your hands.

At your neck.

Still. Unmoving. Like he’d been sitting that way for a while.

You swallowed, wiped your hands, and padded across the room barefoot, quiet. The floorboards creaked beneath your weight as you lowered yourself onto the couch beside him.

“You okay?” you asked, soft.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t look away, either.

You reached up and pressed your palm to his forehead. It wasn’t hot. It wasn’t even room temperature.

It was cold.

Colder than it had any right to be.

Your brow furrowed. “Remmick.”

Still nothing.

You snapped your fingers once, hard, right beside his ear.

That seemed to shake him.

His eyes blinked. Once. Twice.

He looked at you like he was realizing where he was.

Then that familiar, apologetic little smile crept onto his lips. “Sorry, darlin’. Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Just… tired, I s’pose.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but his voice trailed off.

Because he was already leaning in.

His face dipped low toward your throat, nose brushing the curve where your jaw met your neck. He inhaled, slow and deliberate, and your breath caught.

“Smell so sweet,” he mumbled, almost slurred. “So damn warm…”

His lips grazed your skin, then pressed there.

Not a kiss.

A test.

He mouthed at your pulse, breath shaking, and you felt a shiver ripple down your spine. Not of fear, not yet, but of something older. Primal.

“Been so long,” he whispered, more to himself than you. “So damn long. Shouldn’t’ve waited this long. Just—just lemme taste ya sweetheart…”

Your heartbeat kicked up.

You reached for him.

Caught his face in both hands and pulled him back to look at you.

And what you saw—

Your breath left you.

His pupils had all but disappeared, consumed by a burning crimson red. The blue was still there, barely, ringed around the edge like the last scrap of daylight before night swallowed the sky.

His fangs were bared. No attempt to hide them. Sharp. Long. Gleaming wet behind parted lips.

And his hands—those sweet, gentle hands—clenched tight in his lap, the nails lengthening in slow, grotesque stretches. Not growing, exactly. Just revealing what they’d been all along.

“Remmick…” you breathed.

His eyes widened, and the horror that bloomed across his face felt real. Human.

He pulled away like you’d burned him.

“I—I didn’t mean—fuck—I’m sorry, baby,” he stammered, backing toward the other side of the couch like space would fix it. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t gonna hurt ya. I swear it.”

You sat frozen, fingers still hanging in the air where his face had been.

“You’re freezing,” you said, softly. “You’re… starving.”

He shook his head too fast. “No, no, I—I waited too long, that’s all. Should’ve handled it before now, I know better—hell, I knew this was gonna happen—”

“Remmick.”

He stopped. Breathing hard. Watching you with eyes still lit like a furnace behind glass.

And you smiled.

Slow.

But not steady.

There was a tremble at the corners of your mouth, a hesitation that hadn’t been there a moment before. Your fingers curled into your palms, grounding yourself. Because you felt it now. How heavy the air had grown. How close you were sitting to something ancient. Unnatural. Starving.

“You should’ve just told me,” you said, softer this time. Like if you said it too loud, it might shatter whatever thin line he was still clinging to.

His lips parted in stunned silence. That rabbit-caught-in-a-trap kind of look. But his chest wasn’t rising. Wasn’t falling. Just perfectly still, like he didn’t need breath to live anymore.

“Darlin’,” he said, hoarse, almost broken, “ya don’t know what you’re sayin’.”

You hesitated.

Swallowed.

Your eyes darted to his mouth—his fangs—then down to his hands, where his fingers twitched against the couch cushion, claws now fully bared. Your heart beat too fast. Too loud. You were painfully aware of every pulse in your neck, every throb beneath your skin.

And still—

Still, something in you wanted to understand.

So you said, quieter than before, “Then show me.”

There was a beat.

A pause so deep it felt like the house held its breath.

And the hunger in his eyes flared again—brighter. Wilder. But something else flickered there too.

Regret.

He leaned in half an inch.

Then stopped.

Because this time?

He didn’t pull away.

But you almost did.

Remmick caught the tremor in your breath, the way your fingers tensed against the cushion between you. And for the first time all night, he seemed to wrestle with it. With himself. Like he was clawing his way out of something that had been dragging him under all day.

His jaw clenched.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice low, too low. “If I do this—if I start—I ain’t gonna be able to stop right away. Ya understand?”

You stared at him.

His eyes were no longer just red.

They were lit from within. Glowing like coals.

He moved closer—slow, cautious—as if giving you time to run.

“I’m gonna bite ya.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He nodded, almost to himself, like saying it out loud made it more real. His voice dropped to a rasp.

“I’m gonna feed from ya, darlin’. Gonna sink my teeth in your neck and drink until it don’t hurt no more.”

His eyes searched yours. Frantic. Feral. “Tell me no, and I’ll go. I swear it. Y’just gotta say it.”

And you—

You didn’t say anything.

You just nodded.

Small.

Slow.

But it was enough.

Remmick groaned—something low and pained and grateful—and the next second, he was on you.

His mouth opened wide at your throat, breath hot and trembling, and then—

Pain.

Not sharp, not brutal, but sudden. Like two white-hot needles driven deep into the skin just beneath your jaw. Your whole body jerked, legs tensing, one hand clenching the cushion beside you, the other flinging up to grip his shoulder.

But before you could cry out, before you could fully register the hurt, something else rushed in.

A different heat.

Low.

Molten.

You moaned.

Without meaning to. Without thinking.

The ache was there, yes—but so was the pleasure. Something electric, something low in your belly, curling like smoke. Your legs loosened. Your fingers curled in his shirt instead of pushing him away.

Remmick groaned, too.

A deep, needy sound that rumbled against your skin. He sucked at your neck—first slow, reverent, and then hungrier, mouth working in wet, desperate pulls that sent little shocks through your whole body. His hips shifted forward against yours like he couldn’t help it, breath coming hard through his nose.

He sounded like he was enjoying it. Like this was more than hunger. Like it was bliss.

His arms wound tight around you, strong enough to cage you in, to keep you still. He lowered you down onto the couch, one hand at your back, the other slipping under your knees to cradle you, and his mouth never left your throat.

Not for a second.

The room tilted sideways.

You could feel your pulse slowing, but your arousal spiked—nerves on fire, thighs clenching around nothing, the soft friction of your clothes suddenly too much and not enough all at once. You gasped again, the sound melting into another broken moan as he sucked harder, deeper.

And still, his arms didn’t let you go.

As though you would pull away.

As though you could.

Your hand slipped into his hair, tangled there. You couldn’t help it. He was warm now. Burning. You could feel the heat rising off him as he fed, felt the subtle tremble of his body pressing flush against yours.

And then—

You felt it.

The slow, rolling grind of his hips against you.

Subtle at first. Gentle. But there.

His cock, still confined by fabric, dragging against your thigh in shallow, involuntary thrusts.

It didn’t feel like a decision.

It felt like a need.

And the worst part was—he didn’t seem to realize he was doing it.

Remmick was moaning now, softly, against your skin. Almost embarrassed by the sound, but unable to stop. Like something deep in his core was unraveling, and taking all his restraint with it.

You whimpered, hips tipping upward to meet his. Not even thinking.

His mouth paused.

Then—

A low, dangerous sound hummed from deep in his chest.

Still sucking. Still grinding.

Still starving.

And all you could do was lie there, wrapped in him, under him, around him—heat pooling between your legs, neck slick with saliva and blood, pulse fluttering slow and syrup-thick in your chest.

Remmick shifted above you.

One of his hands left your waist, trembling slightly, and reached between you both. The soft click of his belt coming undone cut through the haze like a spark, followed by the scrape of denim, the rustle of fabric. He was frantic with it. Fingers shaking, breath ragged, making quick, clumsy work of his jeans and underwear.

You barely had the strength to lift your head.

The room was blurring at the edges now, every color softening, tilting. You were starting to drift. Blood loss mixing with arousal, leaving your limbs heavy and boneless beneath him.

But before you could slip too far—

He pulled away from your neck.

With a wet pop, his fangs left your skin, and you gasped, air rushing in like a forgotten gift. His face hovered above you, lips stained deep red, chin slick with drool and your blood. His eyes were wild. Too wide. Too red.

“Oh—oh God, I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, breath hitching, voice breaking apart. “Y’tasted—fuck, baby, y’tasted so—so good, I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t gonna—shit, shit, shit, I should’ve stopped—”

His hips bucked forward, and you felt it—

His cock, hot and slick, sliding against your inner thigh.

Not in you. Between.

Fucking your thighs with slow, desperate thrusts, using the wet mess of his spit and your blood and the slick that had gathered between your legs like it was enough.

He groaned. Loud. Open. Embarrassed.

“Jesus—Jesus, darlin’, I can’t—I need ya—been needin’ ya so bad, so fuckin’ bad—”

He rocked forward again, the head of his cock dragging right over the tender skin just beside your folds, catching on the sticky warmth pooling there. He moaned again, high and wrecked, forehead pressing into your shoulder as he fucked the space between your thighs like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Y’said I could show ya,” he gasped. “Y—y’said—I didn’t mean to take so much, I didn’t mean to but ya—ya just gave it to me, ya—fuck, baby, you’re still so warm, still lettin’ me—still lettin’ me use ya—”

Your body jolted with every thrust. He was a mess of heat and movement and desperation, his hands gripping your waist like he needed to feel your pulse there, like the steady thrum of your heartbeat was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

Drool dripped from his mouth.

Mixed with the blood smeared across his chin.

Slicked the backs of your thighs as he fucked them harder.

“F-feels like I’m gonna come already,” he whimpered, voice cracking as his pace faltered. “Ain’t even in ya and I—I can’t hold it, darlin’, I can’t—been dreamin’ ‘bout this for so damn long—”

You whimpered beneath him, too lightheaded to form words, but your legs pressed tighter together, thighs flexing to hold him there.

He choked on a moan.

“Shit—shit, that’s it, th-that’s—baby, please, I need—need to come on you, need to mark ya, need—need to be inside you next, I swear I—I swear I will—”

His voice broke, and his whole body shook.

Then he came.

Hard.

With a cry that sounded more like a sob than a moan, his hips jerked once, twice, and then stilled, trembling as the first pulse of his orgasm tore through him. His cock throbbed between your thighs, hot spurts painting your skin, your belly, dripping down in long, trembling lines as he whimpered into the crook of your neck.

He didn’t stop moving.

Didn’t stop clutching you.

Rocked through it like he didn’t know how to come without collapsing—like it physically hurt to feel this good.

“Fuck—oh God, I—baby, I love ya, I love ya so fuckin’ much—” The words tumbled out of him in a wet, broken slur, lips still sticky with your blood, his tears slipping down to smear against your collarbone. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to use ya, I just—I can’t stop thinkin’ about it, about ya, about how ya taste, about how warm y’are, how ya let me—fuck, I wanna taste ya every day for the rest of my life.”

You gasped at the heat of his confession, your own body still pulsing from the memory of his fangs in your neck, from the hot slide of his cock between your thighs. Your heart was still racing. You could barely feel your legs.

But you heard him.

Every word.

“I’d never hurt ya,” he murmured, softer now, slower. “I swear, baby, I swear on everythin’ I got. I’ll be gentle next time. I’ll take my time. I just—I got so hungry, I couldn’t—God, I couldn’t think.”

He was crying.

Just a little.

Tears catching in the corners of his lashes as his cock gave one last twitch against your skin, sticky and spent. He looked wrecked. Flushed and fevered and in love. Not the polished, calm version of him the world knew.

But this one.

The one unraveling for you.

He pressed his mouth back to your throat, not biting this time—just kissing, worshipful and shaking. You felt his tongue flick out, tasting the blood drying there, humming like it soothed something broken in him.

“I wanna wake up to you smellin’ like this,” he whispered. “Every day. Want ya warm and soft and so full of me it drives me crazy. Want to drink from ya in the morning, fuck ya before bed. Keep ya too tired to run.”

Your fingers curled weakly into his hair.

And you whispered, “Then show me.”

Remmick stilled.

Then slowly—slowly—he smiled.

Something dark and bright and devout in the curl of his lips.

And you realized, in that quiet, trembling moment, with his come still dripping down your thighs and his tears wetting your skin, that you weren’t afraid anymore.

You weren’t being pulled into something terrible.

You were already there.

And you never wanted to leave.

[hyukascampfire]

(🍐) WANNA TOUCH? .. い葉 hard thoughts

𝓘N WHICH 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇’𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽. 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗮 𝗯𝗿𝗮 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆?

nerdy태현 ⊹ 𝑓 rea 19OO smut non idol ╭╯ titty fucking breast worship subby tyun

ɑ︭ : serving this one up for u @heesmiles thank u for this incredible opportunity to write subby taehyun and now i’m drooling from multiple places. this one's been in the vault for a while hehe but omfg it needed to come to life because whew!

Poor Taehyun. You’ve been prancing around his house in little to nothing more than a flimsy pair of the cutest cotton shorts and, the worst offender, that thin, buttercup yellow tank top. It moves with the plush of your curves, looks so soft against your skin. And because you’ve spent a hundred nights like this, you’re so unaware. Sprawled out over his bed, torturously comfy in his presence.

And, god, he can tell you’re not even wearing a bra. It’s got his throat dry and palms sweaty with the effort of not popping a boner over his best friend just sitting there. He feels like a true pathetic, horny weasel of a man.

“It’s so fucking hot in here, Taehyun, seriously. Do you have the heater on eighty or something?” you say, lips pouted in such a way that his melted mind does not miss. The blush dusting your cheeks, proof of the heat, doesn’t slip by him either. He’s so far gone that truth be told, there is not one inch of you that Taehyun is not currently hyper-aware of. Especially the print of your nipples against the soft cotton of your top, belying the shape of you so cruelly that Taehyun hardly has to imagine it.

Oh, and you better believe that imagine it, he has. But seeing it in live action is different than the fuzzy edges of his imagination. Here you are, his best friend, so pretty and real in the flesh. So much better, but so much worse when it’s tangible and real in front of him. “No,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But… I can check. For you.” He remembers the tent in his pants and the pillow he’s clutched over his lap for the past twenty minutes, praying to god you don’t start asking questions. “Or you can. If you wanna.”

Well, of course you start asking questions. It’s been obvious all night, and Taehyun knows you’re just unsure of how to go about asking your guy best friend why his eyes are glued to your tits and he’s obviously covering a hard-on. It’s a stifling, new situation for the both of you. “You okay, Tyun?” Your eyes drop to the ironclad curl of his fingers into the pillow. He wonders if your skin would have the same give. “Are you seriously hard right now?”

The room does suddenly feel hot… The way you giggle the words like his struggle for the last however long is funny, as if his manhood was laughable, sends his blood boiling in his veins. Shoots his cognitive function to all hell until he really is a pathetic, stumbly mess. “It… it happens,” he says. Even the waver of his voice is mortifying. He’s not convincing anybody. “For no reason sometimes. You wouldn’t understand.” Are his lips numb, or is his face just on fire?

“Huh.” You purse your lips in a way that seems like it should be in understanding, but it feels more patronization than anything. “I guess I wouldn’t. I’ve just got these.” To Taehyun’s worst dismay, you take your tits in your palms and squeeze. Feel the weight of them. Like they were nothing more than stress balls, when they’ve been the very source of his strangulating terror. If you think you’re lightening the situation up by making jokes, you are dead wrong. His soul has already left his body. “They act on their own sometimes too, I guess, though. So.”

Fuck. He is so thoroughly fucked. Is this a joke? Is this funny to you? He can’t answer that, because bare minimum, he can’t form thoughts.

“Oh my god, Taehyun,” you laugh. You look beautiful as you witness his humiliation, and he supposes that’s the worst part. You, his pretty, popular, perfect best friend, now know exactly how much of a fumbling loser he really is. “Are you okay? Your face is white.” The moment extends excruciatingly long as you connect the dots in your head. “No fucking way—have you never seen boobs before?”

“Wha… I? Yes I have?” he says. His knuckles creak at the force with which he holds that damned pillow to his hips. For what reason? You’re already keenly aware of his shame if that sparkle in your eye says anything. “I’ve seen tits before. Jesus,” he tries again. He should just stop talking, really. For both of your sakes. “And don’t say it like that.”

The moment lingers. He debates running to the bathroom for some sort of escape. And then you drive the stake in his chest and finish the job. “On Pornhub?” you say, tilting your head in a cheeky way that suggests you’re playing with him like a cat would nudge at a mouse it pitied more than the rest. Like it wasn’t even worth digging its teeth into it. Like a charity case, you furrow your brows and take the hem of your cute little floral sleep set and hit him with, “Do you wanna see some? Real ones?” Or, rather, like you’re just performing some civic duty. Giving handouts to the poor loser who’s never seen a pair of tits. The worst part is the way his cock twitches at the prospect. He is exactly what you think he is: a hopeless virgin ogling his best friend.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Should he say no? Save himself some dignity?

Breathing a laugh, you tug your top up and over your chest. The sight sucks the air from his lungs. The yellow, rucked all the way up, frames it perfectly. He watches as your nipples tighten and how it makes you shudder, the shape of them branded into the back of his skull. “Holy shit,” he says, mouth moving faster than he can realize how embarrassing that is. “You can’t just—do that.”

For the second time, you just laugh at him. Your cheeks are dusted a delectable pink, your back arched to show them off better for him. It’s unreal. A thing only of his most depraved fantasies, and it’s playing out in blisteringly real time right in front of him. “You should see your face right now,” you say, shifting. Your skin, so plump and grabbable, moves softly with it. So does your chest. He’s not sure he’s even breathing at this point. “You’re blushing so hard. Your ears are red. It’s cute.” Circling your fingers around his wrist, you say, “You wanna touch?”

The weight of them—the soft give of your skin, how you feel more like marshmallows under his fingertips than he could’ve ever imagined, and he knows you’d taste just as sweet. It’s all got his stomach twisted right up. He abandons the pillow to roll his thumbs over the buds of your nipples, big brown eyes framed by his glasses darting up to check how you feel about it. He feels the seam where the swell meets your torso, dusts the pads of his fingers over your skin in such a way that makes your breath hitch and your chest jump. Explores with trembling need, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips.

“They’re… pretty,” he manages. He’s had a taste now, and perhaps this version of you, skin so malleable and bed-warmed, will consume him. Will you laugh in his face if he says he wants all this and more? Always? Maybe he’s a dog on a leash, but those soft, exploring eyes of yours don’t say that. Maybe this is as fresh and nerve-wracking for you as it is him.

It’s such a captivating, soft scene, the two of them. Tentative, crossing boundaries with thundering hearts, the familiarity of the same bedroom they’d spent so many other casual nights like this together in. But tonight was so different.

“Yeah?” you say, eyes searching his own. “You’re so…” Feeling up your own chest as if to reaffirm his words to yourself, you shift. “Do you wanna fuck them?” Your voice is like sugary whipped cream in his ears. “You can.”

Well, if he wasn’t breathing before, he certainly isn’t now. He blinks. Reels. That’s… fuck, that’s different. That can’t just be explained away as some horny exploration between two close best friends. That’s his fucking dream. Mouth drying up, his heart stutters in his chest. “Can… well, I…”

Next thing he knows, he’s discovering just how giving your body is, with his length nestled snug between the valley of your breasts. Your skin is so, so warm and welcoming, your body committing to the shape of him and keeping him there just right, and you’re staring up at him with wide, smoldering eyes and curiosity that banks on him using you like this. The sight is borderline too erotic with your hair splayed over his pillows and you laid so prettily beneath him.

“Go ahead,” you encourage. Your cheeks are the color of the plumpest strawberries. “Use them. I know you want to, Taehyun. It’s okay. You’re so sweet, I know you deserve it. You’re the best friend, make yourself feel good.”

You don’t have to ask Taehyun twice. He’s slow and unsure at first, but then his tip starts kissing your lips and he’s seeing fuzzy stars. Bracing himself, he cants his hips until he’s dropping his head down with sluggish whimpers and the valley has gone sticky and slick. He slips right through now. Brown strands of damp hair fall in his eyes, pupils blown wide with the deep thrill that starts in his belly and twists up his spine. “Heeh—fuck, oh fuck,” he says through his teeth, pushing his glasses back up his nose bridge. “Gotta—on your face? Can I… cum on your face?”

“Uh-huh,” you preen, your own eyes glazed over. For a moment, a beautiful, lingering moment, he is positive that you’re just as destroyed by this as he is. That you’re not dragging him along like a thing to pity, but rather that you’re taking as much pleasure in watching him fall apart over your body as he is getting to touch it. “Don’t stop, please, Tyun. Feels so good you’re losing your mind, huh? Do you want them to be yours?”

Taehyun’s lost his mind. “Yes,” he says, choked and tight. He’s losing rhythm. “Yes, I want to… shit, I wanna… Have them…” Unable to complete a full thought, he opts for something simple and to the point. “Love you so much. Love your tits. Can I h…have you?”

You don’t get to answer him that, because he locks up and paints your face with soft white ropes abruptly as if he’d been holding it back. And truthfully, he had. He was on the cusp a few measly moments after feeling you pressed around him, but he couldn’t handle the look on your face if he had came so quickly.

Anyway, he didn’t want the moment to come and go so quickly. But now it’s gone, inevitably, and he’s staring down at his longtime crush painted in him and looking prettier than ever. He prepares himself for the awkward snap back into reality, but you don’t recoil once it comes seeping back in at the corners.

Sitting up, you brush some unruly hair from your face and wrinkle your nose with a melodic laugh. “You’re getting this off my face, Taehyun. If I break out, you’re buying me three straight weeks of coffee.”

That’s all it takes for Taehyun to know that while he may be a loser and you may be so far out of his league that it’s unfathomable that you even grace him with your attention, things may have changed today, but so much will remain the same. That’s all it takes for him to loose a shaky laugh, still basking in the throes, and shoot back a familiar, “You know I’ll buy you some, anyway.”

OO1. 【 tagging 】 . . . @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , @izzyy-stuff , @lunesdesire , @sunoolver , @cherricola-star , @xylatox , @hyunj00 , @taebatu , @caratcakemoa , @biteyoubiteme , @dawngyu , @hyunruhi , @heesmiles , @lunesdesire , @yystarz

rblgs & asks >ᴗ<