#waiting until we can ... actually board

[foxy-eva]

Uncovered

Summary: You have to go undercover as a stripper. Spencer is a little too impressed by your pole dancing skills. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) implied case related violence (including the mention of guns), implied age gap, pole dance, lap dance, jealous Spencer, heavy kissing, grinding, oral (male receiving), handjob, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (birth control mentioned)

Word count: 5.4k

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Undercover Challenge!

Masterlist

“We could do an undercover mission,” you suddenly blurted out while staring at the evidence board. 

Your words caught the attention of the rest of the team. For days you hadn’t gotten any closer to catching the unsub and you were getting tired of waiting for another victim. 

“You’re right. The last two times he went after the new girls at the strip club,” Luke stated. “We could lure him out that way.” 

“Going undercover as a stripper? It's risky but it could work,” JJ agreed. “I'm not gonna do it, though.” 

As if on cue, everyone's eyes were suddenly on you.

It made sense, you were the youngest on the team and fit the unsub's type the most. 

“Absolutely not,” Spencer disagreed as he shook his head. “It's too dangerous and she's too inexperienced.” 

“Hey!” You scolded your coworker. “I can handle myself. And I have plenty of experience!”

“As a stripper or undercover agent?” Luke joked to lighten the mood. 

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “As a profiler! And just for the record, I took some pole dancing lessons a while ago.” 

You were met with surprised looks and raised eyebrows. Before anyone had the chance to make an inappropriate remark, you clarified, “It’s a great workout, actually.” 

Emily found your eyes. Ultimately she was the one who'd have to make this decision. “Are you sure you're okay with this?” 

You thought about it for a moment before you nodded. You were certain that your team would protect you no matter what. There was nothing to worry about. 

After a day of preparation, everything was ready for the undercover mission. It was still early when you and Spencer arrived at the club. It wouldn't be for another hour until the first guests would show up. 

“I'm gonna go change,” you said before you disappeared in a room in the back while Spencer took a look around the club to make sure all the hidden cameras were in place. 

After you closed the door behind you, you took a deep breath and pulled out a lacy purple bodysuit that would cover your skin just enough to hide the microphone. After you shed your clothes, you taped the wire to your body before slipping into the piece of lingerie. When you checked yourself in the mirror, your heart started racing at the thought of dancing on a stage dressed like that.

You didn’t even care that a bunch of strangers would see you like that. But Spencer would be there, too and that was a thought you could barely handle. When Emily decided he should be the one present while everyone else waited in the surveillance truck outside, you almost wanted to call the mission off. 

Nobody on your team knew how much you were pining for Spencer. Countless sleepless nights had been filled with fantasies of sharing intimate moments with him. And now you had to strip in front of him in a room full of strangers while potentially being targeted by a serial killer. That wasn’t quite what you had imagined. 

Despite covering up the most important parts, the one-piece left very little to the imagination. By applying a dramatic amount of make-up and fixing your hair, you tried to distract yourself from the thought. Once you were done, you inspected your work in the mirror. You looked so different, it was almost shocking. 

Earlier you were worried that everybody would be able to tell at first glance that you weren’t actually a professional stripper but now you were sure you’d pass well. You closed your eyes for a moment and thought back to the pole dance lessons you took a while ago to spice up your workout routine. It had been a while but you were confident you still remembered most of the moves. 

A knock on the door had your eyes shoot open again. 

“Are you decent?” You heard Spencer’s voice on the other side. 

“No,” you laughed as you opened the door. “But that’s kind of the point.” 

As he took in the sight in front of him, Spencer’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. The subtle rosy shade spreading over his cheeks let your heart jump. 

“You look…” Spencer started but failed to finish his sentence. 

“I know, it’s a lot,” you finally sighed. 

“It’s very different from your usual work attire,” he chuckled. “You look beautiful, though.”

His words seemed sincere. They made you smile. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Spencer continued talking. 

“The manager of the club asked about a name to introduce you to the crowd.”

“Oh I gotta pick a stripper name! That’s fun. Do you have any ideas?” You asked him before adding, “You’re from Vegas after all.” 

“Crystal, Candy, Ginger, Diamond, Amber, Karma… all very popular stripper names. They don’t really suit you, though,” he said with furrowed brows as if he was really thinking about it. 

“What’s your suggestion?” 

A smirk spread over his face before he leaned down enough for you to feel his body heat. “Vixen,” he teased. 

His choice made you laugh out loud. It was not surprising to you that he’d pick something that could be interpreted as both, a compliment and an insult. “That’s perfect.” 

“Are you already wearing your wire?” He asked while scanning your body once more. 

“Yeah, you can’t tell, can you?” You wondered as you traced your finger over the lace of your bodysuit, following the wire underneath the fabric. Spencer audibly gulped when you brushed your hand over your breast. It wasn’t even intentional but made it very obvious that your outfit had at least some effect on him. 

He shook his head. “Do you think it might come loose when you move on stage?” He wanted to know. 

You hadn’t thought about that before. Wire spilling out from your cleavage would certainly bust your undercover mission. 

“Maybe I should do a little practice run?” You suggested and Spencer agreed. 

Spencer followed you back to the club and took a seat in first row while you got up on the stage. Taking a few steps around the platform, you made yourself familiar with the space available. The pole was right in the middle. You walked around it slowly, tentatively letting your hand move along it. The light was so bright you could barely see the seats. 

After searching for a second, you found Spencer’s eyes staring up at you. 

“Could you keep your eyes on me to make sure the wire… or anything else… doesn’t show?” 

He raised his eyebrows and repeated your words, “Anything else?” 

“Spencer, I’m wearing a tiny skin-tight bodysuit and I’m about to swing my body around a pole. I’m sure you know what I mean. I don’t want to show more than what these people pay for,” you snickered. 

“It would certainly guarantee great tips,” he joked. 

His words made you laugh, “I hope you brought small bills.”

After taking a deep breath, you followed the steps you had memorized from your pole dance classes. First, you slowly walked around the pole before bending down while dramatically arching your back. Then, you squatted down before slowly standing up straight again. With your hand on the pole you walked around it a little faster to gather some momentum before jumping up and hooking one leg around the pole. Holding that position for a second, you took another deep breath until you slowly slid down again. 

You repeated different variations of those moves several times until you were sure you had tested your outfit enough. Walking to the edge of the stage, you found Spencer immediately offering you a hand to help you get down. 

“That was very impressive,” he praised you, making your heart skip another beat. 

When you looked at him you noticed how his cheeks seemed heated and his pupils were dilated a little more than usual. The tension between you was palpable and made you curious about how far you could take this with him. There were still a few minutes left until your team would turn on the cameras and microphones. 

This undercover persona you had taken on really boosted your confidence. 

“What if the unsub asks me for a private dance?” You said while motioning your head towards a more secluded area of the club. 

“There are cameras everywhere and I can assure you that I won’t let you out of my sight. I’ll keep you safe.” The firm tone of his voice didn’t leave any room for doubt. 

“Thank you. But maybe… I should practice that, too? To be safe?” 

Spencer raised his eyebrows at your suggestion before nodding. “You’re right. We should talk this through.” 

He walked right behind you when you approached the section of the club with private booths for lap dances. “You should take this one,” he said while pointing at the booth in the middle and sitting down at the table closest to it. “Leave the curtain open a crack, this way I can watch from here.” 

He stayed at the table while you did as he said, leaving the curtain open just enough for him to peek through it. Then, you walked back out of the booth to take Spencer’s hand in yours. 

“Come on,” you said with a nervous tremble in your voice.

There was little resistance from him when you pulled him from his seat to lead him into the booth. He sat down and watched your every move as you closed the curtain completely. 

“That’s not what we just discussed,” he reminded you, hinting at the closed curtain. 

“I know,” you said and winked. “But you’re not the unsub.”

“Club rules state that the customers aren’t allowed to touch the dancers but they can touch them. You don’t have to do that, though. If anyone really asks for a private dance, I’d suggest you keep an arm’s length of distance.”

“Unless it’s you?” You snickered as you approached him. 

“Very funny,” he deadpanned. “And just for the record, you can also decline a private dance. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. As far as we know the unsub jumps his victims after the show on their way to the car.” 

Your stomach turned at the thought of giving a lap dance to a serial killer. This really was a line you didn’t want to cross but that didn’t mean you couldn’t play along to spend more time with your favorite coworker. 

“Okay, no more unsub talk,” you said with a playful tone. “I gotta practice the lap dance now.” 

It seemed as if Spencer only realized now what you had in mind all along. You almost couldn’t believe that he thought you only wanted to talk this through. “Are you okay with this?” You asked to make sure. He confirmed by nodding. 

“So, cutie,” you purred while brushing your hands over your sides. “What do you like?” 

“Uhm…” he stuttered as he watched you move your body slowly in front of him. 

Turning to your side, you arched your back to give him a perfect view of the curve of your backside. “Maybe this?” You teased. 

Spencer licked his lips and audibly exhaled. His hands were placed on his thighs and you noticed how his fingers trembled slightly, as if he had to hold back from reaching out to touch you. To your surprise he actually answered, “Yes.” 

Finding his eyes, you noticed how the gold of his irises had almost entirely been swallowed by the black of his pupils. You stepped closer until there was barely any distance between the two of you. He looked up at you with a certain hunger written all over his face. Placing your hand on his shoulders, you leaned forward to let him take a look at your cleavage. 

“How about this?” You breathed and watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

“You really are a vixen,” he groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. 

That was when you dared to let your eyes drop to his lap, a smirk spreading over your face when you noticed the bulge straining against his pants. Heat started rushing to your center at the realization of the effect you had on him. 

More than anything did you wish you could just drop down to your knees right then and there to take care of him. Licking your lips, you allowed yourself to imagine how his cock would feel pressed against your tongue. 

Then Spencer opened his eyes again, forcing you to get back at least some of your composure. You knew you didn't have much time until your undercover mission officially started. It would certainly not be long enough to do what you really craved. 

Still, you needed to be closer to him, even if it was just for a second. 

“You seem tense,” you said as you took his hands in yours to move them away from his thighs. Then, you sat down on his lap, straddling him. “You should relax a little.” 

His eyes were wide when he looked at you and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You brought his hands to your waist, urging him to touch you but he hesitated. 

“Touching the dancers is against the club rules,” he mumbled. 

“Good thing I don’t actually work here,” you quipped. 

Suddenly you heard a high-pitched noise ringing in your ear. By the way Spencer jumped, he must have heard it too. “Sorry about that,” you heard Emily’s voice through the ear piece. “We were having technical difficulties. Can you guys hear me? The microphones should be working now.” 

“Yes we can hear you,” Spencer answered. 

“Damn, what are you guys doing?” You heard Luke’s voice and were reminded that the entire club was equipped with surveillance cameras. 

Quickly getting up from Spencer’s lap, you cleared your voice and explained, “I uhm… was just practicing a lap dance.” 

“Please tell me I don’t have to file a report to HR,” Emily sighed and you weren’t sure if she was joking or not. 

“We just decided that private dances are off limits for her tonight,” Spencer informed your team leader as he got up from his seat and walked out of the booth right after you. 

You turned your head to find his eyes. “Did we now?”

Spencer nodded, “It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah we can’t risk giving civilians heart-attacks,” Penelope giggled through your ear-piece. “You look amazing, by the way.” 

After talking everything through with your team once more, you went backstage again to freshen up and fix your hair and make-up. It wouldn’t be long until it was your turn on the stage. 

When a very sweet dancer named Karma returned from the stage, she waved at you and said, “Vixen, you’re up next. Good luck, they are gonna love you!” 

Your heart was pounding louder than the music when you approached the stage. The club was full, the air was hot and filled with the sweet perfumes of the dancers before you. The light was so bright you could barely see the crowd. 

You tried to find him, anyway.

Spencer sat at the same spot as before when you finally found his eyes. He wore a soft smile and nodded at you, encouraging you to stick to the plan. 

The club owner’s voice blared through the speakers, “Everyone make some noise for our new arrival Vixen!”

The crowd cheered and you started moving, following the steps you had practiced and repeating them in different variations over and over again. Every once in a while you looked for Spencer’s soft smile for reassurance and he was always there to provide just that. The longer you danced, the more you were reminded why pole dancing was a whole body workout after all. 

When your muscles started aching, your time was finally up. You left the stage and disappeared in the changing room to sip some water and wait for further instructions. 

“A tall man with a blue baseball cap asked the manager for a private dance with you,” Spencer informed you through your ear-piece. “He seemed very agitated when his request was denied. I’m gonna keep my eyes on him, he might be our unsub.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered into your microphone, making sure the other women there wouldn’t notice. 

It made you feel safe to know that Spencer had your back. You were certain that if anyone would lay as much as a finger on you, they would immediately feel the barrel of his gun on the back of their head. 

You changed into your regular clothes and put on a jacket, getting ready to leave the club just like you rehearsed with your team. 

“Is everyone in position?” You heard Emily’s voice. After everyone confirmed, she told you to leave the club through the backdoor. 

Despite the exhaustion, your nerves were on edge, aware that the unsub might try to attack you any moment now. You had your gun in your purse and your hand ready to quickly grab it as you walked out the door. 

Looking around, you didn’t see anyone, not even the members of the team even though you were certain they were there. They still needed probable cause to make an arrest. 

“Suspect is approaching,” Spencer whispered. 

Even though you expected him, you were still startled when you suddenly felt his presence behind you. 

“You owe me a lap dance,” the man snarled at you as you turned around. 

You already had your hand wrapped around your gun in your purse when he started approaching you with his arms reached out. 

Spencer quickly appeared behind him with his gun pointed at the unsub, yelling, “FBI, don’t move!” He froze and stepped back. “If you touch her, you’re dead,” Spencer growled. 

The rest of your team appeared to help with the arrest and hand the guy over to the local police. Relief washed over you when you realized that your undercover mission was successful. Once you got back to your hotel room, you couldn’t wait to wash off your make-up and take a shower. 

After getting cleaned up you slipped into your pajama shorts and an oversized shirt, ready to get into bed. A firm knock on your hotel room door disrupted your plan. You had a feeling who you might find on the other side. 

Spencer stood in the hallway, a concerned look on his face. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he said as you stepped aside to invite him in. 

“I’m okay,” you confirmed with a tired smile on your face. 

His sight grazed over your outfit, almost as if he were caressing your body with his eyes. 

Spencer was still wearing his dress shirt and black pants and you wondered what he would look like in casual clothes. It was hard to imagine him in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“You look more like yourself again,” he said, hinting at your clean face and casual clothes. 

“Do you already miss Vixen?” You quipped. 

“No,” he countered without hesitation. “I prefer you like this. You're even more beautiful without any make-up on.” 

His straightforwardness let heat rush to your cheeks. It was as if the time you spent at the club with him changed something between the two of you. You always hoped for your feelings to be mutual but could never be sure before. 

Spencer seemed tense when he continued speaking. “This was your first undercover mission and I know this one was very intense.” 

You tried to lighten the mood. “So you don’t usually have to dance half-naked in front of serial killers when you go undercover?” 

“Rarely,” he chuckled before being quiet for a second. “I know we asked a lot of you tonight.” 

You thought back to when you suggested that mission. “You didn't. You never even wanted me to go undercover.”

“Yeah, I really did not want that,” he agreed. 

“There was no need to worry, I knew you'd have my back,” you reassured him. 

Spencer stepped closer to you, his eyes fixated on yours, a slight glimmer visible in the warm amber of his irises. “Can I be honest with you?” 

With a nod you confirmed, prompting Spencer to keep talking. 

“This mission was like torture to me.” 

You felt your heart stop for a moment and a pit form in your stomach. Thinking back to earlier that night, you started to feel bad for being so bold. 

“I'm very sorry. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.” 

To your surprise, your words made him chuckle. “That's not what I'm talking about. You didn't make me uncomfortable.”

That was relieving to hear. It also made you curious. “Then explain it to me, please.”

He took a step towards you. His tone was tense when he said, “It was torture because I hated seeing all those men looking at you, lusting after you. Nobody should be allowed to see you like that.”

Another step in your direction. Now your chests were almost touching and you were sure that Spencer must have been able to hear the accelerated beating of your heart. 

He leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over the skin of your neck before he whispered, “Nobody but me.”

It was then that all your remaining self-restraint broke. Swinging your arms around his neck, you pulled him against your body while capturing his lips with yours. With the same amount of eagerness he reciprocated your actions.

With one hand in the nape of your neck and the other on your back, he secured your position pressed against his body. A timid moan escaped your lips, an invitation Spencer gladly accepted by deepening the kiss. Time stood still as you got lost in this kiss, all the yearning and longing of the past few months finally unraveling. 

Greedy hands found the buttons of his shirt, hastily undoing them one by one. He moved with you as you let the fabric slide over his shoulders and drop to the floor. With your hands against his chest, you moved Spencer to the edge of the bed, urging him to sit down. There was no resistance from him, he happily followed your lead. 

You climbed into his lap just like you did at the club earlier, only this time there was no holding back from either of you. Spencer welcomed you on top of him like a queen on a throne. His hands wandered from your waist down to your hips, playfully squeezing your flesh before gently stroking your thighs. The sighs falling from your mouth only spurred him further on. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you confessed with a shaky breath. 

“Me, too,” Spencer answered. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

Ever so slightly you shifted in his lap until you felt his hardness pressed against your core. A subtle twitch gave away how good the sudden pressure felt for him. When you dared to roll your hips against him once, Spencer whimpered into the kiss, a sound so delicious it sent a shockwave right to your center. 

“I would have loved to do that earlier,” you snickered before you began moving. 

Spencer groaned, “That would have been my downfall.”

Grinding against him, your kiss was interrupted by heavy breaths and desperate moans from the both of you. Spencer buried his fingertips into your hips so hard you were sure you’d find their imprints still visible in the morning. The friction you created between your legs let your arousal soak through your panties. There was still so much you wanted to do with him, so you decided to slow down the movement of your hips before it got too much for either of you.  

Your lips left his in favor of kissing along his jawline, his stubble tickling your cheek. A rumble rolled through his chest when you began nipping the sensitive skin of his neck. His hands found the seam of your shirt and pushed it upwards, revealing your skin to him. Leaning back, you let him pull it over your head and toss it aside. 

There was a moment of silence while he took in the glory that was your exposed body. 

When he found your eyes again, he purred, “You’re so beautiful, it’s almost unreal.”

A soft kiss was placed against your collarbone while his hands found their home on your breasts, gently exploring the softness your body had to offer. When he placed your hardening peaks between his fingertips to apply some pressure, you moaned louder than you had anticipated. 

Spencer looked at you as if he was witnessing a miracle, his cheeks heated, his eyes wide and pupils blown to the rim. “You’re absolutely perfect,” he praised you. 

To his surprise, you got up from his lap without a warning and he whined in protest. Then, you fell to your knees in front of him, your hands flying to the waistband of his pants in an instant. 

“There’s another thing I wanted to do earlier,” you cooed as you undid his pants.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he panted as he helped you shed the rest of his clothes. 

When Spencer’s body was completely unveiled right in front of you, you took your time to let your sight roam over his body. His chest was flushed and heaving, his tummy looked soft and had a trail of hair leading down to the dark curls at the base of his cock. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft and watched as a bead of precum rolled over the swollen tip. 

Leaning closer, Spencer could feel your hot breath against him. He watched you intently only to shut his eyes for a second when you gave his hardness a gentle squeeze. He twitched against your palm in response. Your tongue swiped over your lips to wet them. You could feel your mouth watering.

Then Spencer did something you hadn’t expected. He begged. 

With a soft and broken voice, you heard him say, “Please…”

To end his suffering, you began kissing along his shaft before licking over his tip. Spencer shuddered beneath you and made sounds so desperate you could have gotten drunk on them. Your lips closed around him and Spencer threw his head back, muttering some curse words you had never heard from him before. 

He felt hot and heavy against your tongue when you sank down on him slowly. You began moving with a steady rhythm, your hand covering what your throat couldn’t. 

“Feels so good,” he muttered. 

You would have been very happy to let him fall over the edge this way, curious to taste his release but when he got close to his breaking point, you felt his hand on your jaw. 

“Slow down, please.” 

After releasing him from your mouth, you placed a soft kiss on his tip before looking at him. 

“Tell me what you need,” you said while you kept slowly stroking his erection. 

He grabbed your wrist to stop you from touching him. “I need you,” he cooed and helped you get up from the floor. “Come here.” 

After guiding you onto the mattress, he laid down beside you before he kissed you once more. One of his hands moved down your body, over your chest, your stomach and finally, between your legs. He brushed over the fabric of your shorts, certainly noticing how damp they already were. Slipping his hand beneath the waistband, he pushed down your shorts a little. 

Hurried and ungracefully, you quickly got rid of your shorts and panties to give him full access to your skin. Your desperate action made Spencer chuckle but he didn’t say anything. Instead he kissed you again while he pushed your thighs apart with his hand. 

Then, he finally made contact with two of his fingers. He dragged them along your folds, spreading your arousal even more before finding your swollen bud. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathed against your lips.

You smirked into the kiss while one of your hands wrapped around his erection again. “And you’re so hard,” you teased him. 

Spencer didn’t let you distract him, he seemed determined to bring you pleasure by the way he circled your most sensitive spot. When he was sure you were ready, his fingertips found your entrance and slowly sank into you. The intrusion was very welcome. Your walls began fluttering against his digits the faster he moved. 

“Spencer…,” you sighed when you got closer to the edge much sooner than you had anticipated. 

Lazily you stroked his length while he worked his hand against your core. Spencer knew what he was doing and you could have easily unravelled this way. That was not what you wanted right then, though. 

“I need your cock,” you sighed instead. “Need it inside me.”

He groaned at your words before he removed his hand from your center. You couldn’t believe your eyes when he brought them to his mouth to clean your essence off his fingers. Never before had you seen anything so sinful. It turned you on more than you thought was possible. 

Now it was your turn to beg. “Fuck me, Spencer. Now, please!” 

Your desperation made him smirk. “You’re on birth control, right?” He wanted to make sure as he kneeled between your legs. 

“Yes I am. I also just got tested. So will you please fuck me now?” 

“Gladly,” he groaned as he leaned over you. 

He guided his cock to your folds and dragged it along them to coat it with your arousal before he slowly pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you, stretching you open to accommodate his size. When you had enveloped him completely, he captured your lips in a kiss once more. 

Your core pulsed around him as if your body was begging him to finally start moving. He obliged as he began pushing into you, slowly at first but quickly accelerating his motions until the bed frame was shaking. 

“Fuck,” he whined. “You feel so good. So tight for me.” 

The room filled with the sound of your bodies colliding and the song of pleasure falling from your lips. 

You were at a loss for words, already blissed out and dancing along the edge of glory after just a few thrusts. Moans and sighs escaped your throat as you got even tighter around him. Spencer noticed the state you were in and changed the angle slightly to provide even more pressure. 

“Come for me,” he whispered as he dropped his hand to where your bodies met to draw circles around your nub with his thumb.  

And how could you deny him that? With a particularly forceful push you reached your breaking point, your entire body shaking beneath him as you came. Spencer guided you through the euphoria with precise thrusts, determined to maximize your pleasure. When you clenched around him one final time, he finally lost his composure, too. 

“I’m so close,” he mumbled as he pushed into you erratically. “Where do you want me to…?” 

“Inside,” you sighed. “Come inside me, please!” 

Hearing those words pushed him over the edge, spilling his essence into you as you ground your hips against his. He collapsed into your arms and you were happy to catch him. A tired kiss was placed on your cheek before Spencer buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

You held him tightly against your body, even when breathing became a little more difficult with his weight on top of you. Gentle fingertips drew circles on his back until you felt the mixed evidence of your shared desire dripping down your thighs. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you breathed, urging Spencer to get up. 

“Stay,” he said. “I can take care of that.” 

He disappeared in the bathroom for a moment, cleaning himself up before returning with a damp towel. Sitting down beside you, he touched your thigh and cooed, “Open up for me please.” 

After hesitating for a moment, you did as he asked and he began to thoroughly and carefully rid you of any remaining stickiness. You shuddered when the towel moved over your sensitive bud and Spencer apologized although there was nothing to be sorry for. No man before him had shown you so much care and affection and it warmed your heart. When he was done, he put the towel aside and found his home inside your embrace, where he stayed for the rest of the night. 

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

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[inkandapex]

racing heart

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary : Y/N is determined to prove she’s got the skills to take on Lando’s karting challenge, but Lando’s protective instincts go into overdrive. Despite her insistence that she’s fine, Lando can’t help but fuss over every little detail, from her seatbelt to her speed, unable to hide his concern.

Words : 2.1k

Warnings : some swearing, small crash.

— (tbh I wrote this one half-asleep, not my favourite but here you guys go!)

As soon as Y/N watched Quadrant’s new video with Keegan Palmer, she was immediately determined to try the challenge herself. Almost without fail, she’d been pestering Lando to let her have a go. But ever the protective boyfriend, Lando wasn’t so easily convinced.

The four sat around the table, waiting for their lunch to arrive—Max and Lando deep in their own conversation, while Pietra and Y/N chatted away. It wasn’t until Pietra reached over to grab Max’s hand, catching his attention, that the table suddenly fell silent.

“Y/N has a question for you,” Pietra starts, a grin already spreading across her face.

“Oh, here we go,” Lando sighs, reaching for his glass to take a sip, already knowing exactly what’s coming.

“What?” Max asks, confusion written all over his face as he glances between his girlfriend, his friend, and Y/N—all of whom are wearing entirely different expressions.

Lando sets his glass down with a knowing look. “She’s about to try and get you on board with letting her do the karting challenge we did with Keegan.”

"That sounds sick actually—"

“Right?!” Y/N interrupts excitedly, eyes practically glowing with joy.

“No,” Lando says firmly, shaking his head.

“Mate, we’ve gone karting with Y/N before,” Max points out.

“Yeah, indoors—and those karts weren’t that fast,” Lando argues, trying to reason with him.

“Lan, please, it looks so fun,” Y/N pleads, leaning in.

“Baby, no—”

“Lando, you go over 200 miles per hour, and Y/N never says a word about it,” Pietra cuts in, backing her friend up without hesitation.

“That’s different, P… Max wouldn’t let you do it either,” Lando huffs, turning to Max for support.

“I would, actually.”

“Lando, please,” Y/N presses, eyes wide with excitement. “You and Max would be there to teach me! I’ll be safe, I promise. We can even—”

“—Fine! Fine, alright,” Lando finally caves, running a hand through his hair, already regretting his decision.

“We’re filming this, right?” Max smirks, barely holding back his laughter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

At the same track where they did the last challenge, Max holds the camera, zooming in on his friends standing near the circuit. Both Y/N and Lando are dressed in fireproofs, helmets in hand. Lando gestures animatedly as he talks, the mic picking up his voice as he explains the racing lines and braking points to Y/N, who listens intently.

Max moves closer, camera still in hand, ready for a quick interview. “How you feelin’, Y/N?”

Y/N turns to the camera with a big grin, giving a small wave. “So excited.”

“Lando?” Max pans to his friend.

“I’m gonna shit myself”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Baby, you’re a walking hazard.”

“That’s true, actually.” Max briefly turns the camera on himself, giving a small nod of agreement.

“Guys—no, remember Silverstone last year?” Lando points accusingly. “Y/N showed up with her arm in a sling because she missed the bed while trying to jump onto it and landed straight on her shoulder.”

"That's different—"

“—Alright! So you already know what’s about to happen,” Max says, handing off the camera before stepping between his two friends, slinging an arm around each of them. “Lando’s gonna set a lap time, and Y/N will get a shot with different karts—one faster than the other to see if she can beat him.”

The camera zooms in on Lando’s face, his expression a mix of nerves and dread, clearly uncomfortable.

“Mate, you look ill.”

“I will be after this,” Lando chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood.

“She’ll be fine. C’mon, go ahead. We’ll be up there watching,” Max laughs, giving his friend a pat on the back. “I’ll make sure to give her tips as you go.”

"Oi, excuse me? Hold on a minute! Where's my kiss?" Lando pouts, feigning offense. "I can’t believe you’re not being sweeter to me after I agreed to do this."

Y/N halts, throwing her head back and laughing. "Sorry! Just really excited." She jogs back towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Have fun, be safe."

You could almost see Lando's body relax—maybe for the first time all day—as he holds her face with his free hand and gives her a soft kiss. "You're lucky I love you," he mutters against her lips. "Go on then, let me get the job done." He chuckles, ruffling her hair before turning to walk toward the kart.

---------------------------------------------------------------

As Lando takes his warm-up lap, Y/N can be seen sitting beside Max, listening intently as he gives her pointers. Max talks her through the track, explaining the braking points and the tricky corners she needs to watch out for, doing his best to guide her through every detail. Y/N nods along, fully focused, ready to take on the challenge.

"Unbelievable” Max muttered with a scoff.

“What?” Y/N, concerned, turned to Max.

“He’s going slow on purpose.”

“No way…”

“He’s already two seconds behind the lap time he set last time we did the challenge.”

“He clearly doesn’t want me on the faster karts then” Y/N slouched in her seat, deflated.

Max nodded, grabbing his radio to speak to Lando. “Mate, you have to do one more. The clock wasn’t working properly, sorry.”

“Copy,” Lando replied, completely unaware that his girlfriend and best friend had caught on to his little trick.

Lando took one more lap, and it was even slower than the previous three. The two of them walked over to the track to greet him.

“How was that?” Lando asked, pulling off his helmet with a grin.

“Yeah, no, mate—no chance,” Max said, shaking his head. “You were going slow on purpose.”

"No I wasn't!" Lando immediately shouts in defense

"I'm setting the lap time," Max says, handing over the stopwatch to Lando before heading back into the building to grab his own helmet.

Y/N stands with her arms crossed, staring at her boyfriend with a look of clear disapproval.

"Oh, come on, baby," Lando chuckles softly, stepping toward her and pulling her into his arms. "You can’t be mad at me."

Just then, Max walks back out, helmet on, heading toward the kart. "Alright, lovebirds, enough with the mushy stuff," he teases with a grin.

"Max I swear—"

Y/N tugs on Lando's arm, dragging him to where her and Max were previously sat, leaving Max to get to his kart "Goodluck Maxie! Fast and safe yeah?"

"Always"

--------------------------------------------------------------------

As expected, Max set a solid lap time, one that left both Lando and Y/N chasing after it. The three of them were all significantly faster than any of Lando's previous attempts, creating the perfect challenge for Y/N to take on and hopefully beat.

The scene cuts to the three of them back on track, with Max standing off to the side, a sheepish grin on his face as he watches Lando double, triple, and maybe even quadruple-check every little thing while Y/N sits in the kart.

"Mate, at this point, you’ve checked her seatbelt so many times, I’m pretty sure it’s been inspected more than your car before a race," Max laughs, shaking his head. "You planning to give her a full service next?"

Lando lets out a sigh. "Hey, better safe than sorry," he says, tugging on the straps for what feels like the hundredth time.

Max chuckles. "At this rate, she’s gonna need a nap after all your—"

Y/N, fully embracing the teasing, drops her head forward and lets out exaggerated snoring noises. "Oh— and she's down," Max laughs, enjoying the moment.

Lando rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his focus not breaking as he checks the brakes one last time. He leans in to gently lift her head, making sure she looks at him.

"Don’t push yourself beyond what you're comfortable with," he says, his tone serious but soft. "If at any point you want to stop, just let us know. And if anything feels off—"

"I know, baby," Y/N interrupts with a playful smile, brushing him off. "I’ll be fine. You worry too much."

Lando gives her a soft smile before planting a quick kiss on the top of her helmet, then gives her a light tap on the side before starting her kart.

"Okay, let’s go, lover boy. Drive fast, Y/N!" Max teases, already dragging Lando off the track.

"I will!" Y/N calls back, already revving the engine.

Lando pauses, his voice rising as he watches her take off. "Safely, baby, please! Drive safely!" He shouts after her, hands still hovering nervously at his sides.

Max smirks. "You're really gonna keep yelling at her like that from the sidelines?"

"I've only got one of her, I’ve got the right to worry," Lando mutters, but a smile creeps onto his face.

----------------------------------------------------------

The challenge was going smoothly, with Y/N only a couple of seconds off the target lap time on her first attempt. By her third kart, she finally beat it by just tenths of a second. However, that didn’t stop her from wanting to try out the fastest kart they had available, much to Lando’s frustration.

"Baby, you’re already faster than the rest of us. Why do you need to go any faster?" Lando groans, running a hand through his hair as she approaches the kart.

Y/N grins mischievously, her competitive spirit clearly not satisfied yet. "Because I can. Besides, I’m just warming up," she teases, hopping into the sleek, speedier kart.

The first lap went perfectly, with Y/N letting out shouts of joy as she sped through the track. Lando and Max watched from the sidelines, impressed by how well she was handling the kart, both commenting on how fast and smooth she was. However, by the fourth turn of her second lap, they began to notice a change. Y/N’s arms were starting to give out. She was struggling to keep the kart under control, her once-smooth movements becoming more jerky with each turn.

Lando immediately grabs the radio, his voice laced with concern. "Y/N, love, you’ve gotta slow down now, alright? Your arms are giving out a little, you’re gonna go off track."

Lando watches anxiously, his fingers gripping the radio tightly, waiting for her response. Before he can radio her again, he sees Y/N miss the braking point, her kart spinning out and slamming into one of the barriers on the turn.

Both Lando and Max jolt up from their seats, the panic flashing in their eyes. Lando grabs the radio and bolts down the track, Max following closely behind. Their feet pound against the ground as they rush toward where she’s spun out.

"I'm okay. Just dizzy from the spin," Y/N's voice crackles through the radio, making Max stop in his tracks and squat down on the spot, letting out a relieved breath.

Lando, however, doesn’t slow down. He keeps sprinting toward where she’s stopped, his heart racing as he sees her starting to get out of the kart.

Max, noticing her movement, immediately grabs the radio. "Hey— no. Y/N, slow down. Wait ‘til we get to you. Lando's nearly there, sit tight."

Lando’s feet hit the track faster, his worry growing with every step as he sees Y/N trying to move. He reaches her in no time, dropping to his knees beside her. With quick, precise movements, he removes her helmet, immediately inspecting her for any signs of injury.

"What's hurting? Are you okay? What hurts?" His voice is frantic, eyes scanning her for any sign of damage.

Y/N shakes her head, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Lan... I'm okay. It wasn’t that bad, really. Just felt like a soft bump to the side. I’m feeling peachy, I promise. Just... embarrassed is all," she admits, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Fuck me... Right, we're done for today. C’mon." Lando pulls her into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before gently helping her out of the kart.

Max, still out of breath, finally catches up to them. "You good, Y/N?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Still in one piece," Y/N laughs, giving a thumbs-up, earning a facepalm from Lando.

"That looked really bad from where we were," Max says, looking at the kart, then back at her with concern still lingering in his eyes.

Lando shoots him a look. "Yeah, thanks for the commentary, Max. We’re all fine now, though." He turns his attention back to Y/N, making sure she’s steady on her feet. "Let’s get you checked out properly, just in case."

The three make their way back to the building, with Lando softly checking in on Y/N, making sure she’s still feeling alright after the spin. Their light chatter fills the air as Max trails behind, looking at the pair with a sheepish grin.

"So, uh... we’re keeping this on the video, right?" Max asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Lando glances over at him "You muppet"

Y/N smirks, giving Max a playful nudge. "Honestly, I wouldn’t mind. They live for drama."

Lando groans, but a grin tugs at his lips. "You're both impossible."

[dodger-chan]

Inspired by this post by @0nemorestranger Hopefully close enough to what you had in mind

Edit: now on AO3

Lost Media

Steve didn’t realize he’d been humming along to anything until the music cut off suddenly and looped around to start over. The opening riff played for about three seconds before it cut off again.

“Wait, who’s humming?” The question came from one of Steve’s younger co-workers. A part-timer working his way through college. Steve couldn’t remember his name.

“Uh, that was me. Sorry,” he tacked on the apology as an afterthought.

“You know that song?” the kid asked. He sounded like Dustin.

“It’s called Plane of Shadows. I think it’s a DnD reference,” Steve answered. “Band’s Corroded Coffin. Haven’t heard them in years.”

That wasn’t strictly true. Every once in a while, Steve would play the tape he still had. Think about that one summer he’d spent as an unpaid, unofficial roadie. Daydream about what could have happened if he’d known himself a little better back then.

Not too often. Steve wasn’t that much of a loser.

The kid came over and plopped down in Robin’s empty chair. She was out sick today, getting over the flu Steve had picked up last week.

“It is. A DnD reference, I mean,” the kid said. Steve probably needed a better thing to call him; he was probably Erica’s age. “Shit, one of my friends posted that clip to this metal bulletin board. We've been trying to identify it forever. How do you know it?”

“They’re from the same small town I am. We all went to highschool together.” Not that Steve had known their music in highschool. “I don’t think they ended up with a record deal, but they did have an EP they used to sell at concerts. I can bring it tomorrow if you want.”

*********

Steve brought the tape, along with the souvenirs he’d saved from that summer. A couple of photocopied flyers. An ad clipped from a local Bloomington paper for a concert. A wristband from a bar that had marked him as too young to drink. Also his Walkman. Steve wasn’t sure if kids still had cassette players now that CDs were everywhere.

“This is so cool,” the kid - Brian, apparently - gushed when Steve handed him the shoebox he’d brought it all in at lunch. “Is it alright if I scan these? And can I borrow this tape? I want to digitize it and share the full song with the board.”

“You can do that?” Steve really needed to learn more about computers. Just not from Dustin who couldn’t teach anything without turning into a condescending asshole.

“Yeah, just record from the Walkman like it’s a mic. I’ll burn you a copy of the whole EP. That way you won’t have to worry about wearing out your tape,” Brian offered. “I would never have guessed you were such a metal fan.”

“I’m not, really,” Steve admitted. Brian blinked at him, surprised. And, well, it wasn’t the eighties anymore, and they weren’t still living in Hawkins. “Massive crush on the lead guitarist.”

“Oh, uh, thanks for telling me.” Brian leaned over and patted Steve’s shoulder. “So you and Robin aren’t-”

“Strictly platonic.” Maybe Robin was right and they should get signs for their desks.

*********

It was nearly a month later when Brian grabbed Steve at the water cooler and dragged him over to his desk, saying “You’ve got to see this.”

This was a post on the Brian’s metal bulletin board:

Crazy to hear from a buddy that our old band is a minor Internet sensation. Thanks, all. If you guys had been around back in the day we might have managed a full album. Or maybe not. Gareth’s parents would have killed him if he dropped out and Jeff actually wanted to go to college, so maybe we still would have broken up in ‘87. Regardless, we’re all thrilled our music is bringing joy to today’s metal heads. As the primary songwriter, and with the agreement of the rest of the band, I grant permission to upload and download the entire EP. We think any money we might potentially have made on it is worth less to us than the value of preserving what could have been lost media. Just make sure to credit us if your garage band turns one of our songs into a hit. Anyway, if you guys have any questions about Corroded Coffin, or the songs, reply to this post and I’ll do my best to answer in a timely fashion. Aside to OP: Is your preppy co-worker who had all our stuff a handsome former jock with spectacular hair? Because I’d love to get back in touch with our old roadie. -EM

“Oh my god,” Robin squealed, leaning over Steve’s shoulder as he read. “Please, you have to give Eddie Steve’s email. Or get Eddie’s email to give to Steve. Or both. Both would be best. That way at least one of them will have the balls to reach out first.”

“Eddie’s already reaching out,” Steve said. “And I thought you said it was anti-femminist to use testicles as a proxy for courage.”

“Stop quoting me when I’m being right, Steven.”

“So I should get his contact info for you?” Brian asked.

Steve hesitated. Real life was not some romantic comedy where attraction was always mutual and true love overcame all obstacles in the end. But it wasn’t like he’d spend the last decade pining. Even if it was nothing more than getting a friend back, it would be good to get in touch with Eddie again.

“Sure,” Steve answered. “Why not?”

[salemlunaa]

☀︎ YOU’RE NOT BEING PRODUCTIVE, YOU’RE LAZY AND AFRAID ☀︎

And this will cost you a lot of time that could be spent with your desires…

You have all the information, why aren’t you applying. You tell me you have been in this community for 6 months, a year, 2 years+, but how many of those days you’ve spent in this community have you actually applied, how many of those nights did you actually apply and don’t just fall asleep after 5 seconds.

And i know why you’re lazy, it’s because you’re scared, you’re scared of inducing process, whether it be success or failure. You make yourself busy with scripts and subliminals, “i’ll script this really cool thing first”, “i’ll scroll a little on tumblr first” “lemme just look at the success story hashtag before i do it, it really motivates me” You try and distract your self, you delude yourself into thinking you’re being productive but really you don’t want to, if you wanted to you wouldn’t be here and I will ALWAYS stand by that. You put it off until the last minute and then when it “doesn’t work” you run back to tumblr acting like you actually did anything.

a really good analogy from @archsariel333 - “you buy the pens, the notebook, you plan for the book you’re going to write but, you never write it”

“let me just add this one thing to the plan”, “let me look at inspo for book covers and art styles for illustration”, “let me go to my book writers group on tumblr and see if they have anymore advice for me even tho i know how to write a fucking book”

I know it’s comforting and validating to be in the “waiting period”, the period of anticipation. You want to go shopping for a vacation, pack your suitcase, look at reviews on social media, plan the pics you’re going to take, but getting on the actual plane can be scary, you ask yourself “what if they deny my boarding pass”, “what if i fail to make it on time”, “what if im not eligible to fly for whatever reason”, you don’t want to leave your comforting circumstances and even the trip itself scares you just a little, so you cope by buying all the vacation outfits in the world, saving inspo pics into a pinterest board, looking at vlogs of other people going to that place. You can’t bring yourself to get on the fucking plane.

You need to apply, and properly, 2024 is almost over, the amount of weeks we have left isn’t even in the double digits anymore, I don’t want you to make it to the end of this DECADE still keeping the tumblr “foryou” page company, watching people coming and going feeling paralysed as people who came here later than you pass you by. I know the feeling sucks but whose fault is that?

I want you to scrap the amount you’ve been here. Since you’re the operant power right? I don’t care how many weeks, months, years you’ve been here, scrap it, you’re going to start afresh and you’re going to actually apply, when you have the time, you’re not going to go back to your notes app, notion or pinterest to script some more, you’re going to apply.

A lot of you have the knowledge that majority of the world doesn’t and time on your hands, do you know how powerful and extremely fortunate you are, to have time AND knowledge? i don’t think alot of you understand how much of a privilege that is you are unstoppable yet you stop yourself out of fear that you will “fail” to tap into the void and let yourself down. You are so privileged to know what you know and to have the time to apply it, so do it, your not gonna scroll on tiktok for a few more minutes or shove a million subliminals down your throat to “prep yourself” you’re just going to take a breath and do it. Induce pure consciousness, and if you fall asleep scrap that assumption and do it again.

Look at your life right now, do you honestly like it, do you like envying others for having what you can have at the snap of your fingers. Do you like the life you are living?

I want you to tell yourself that you will not be the reason for your own demise. you will NOT be the reason that it’s 2026,27,28 and so on and you don’t have what you want.

please just go and apply, i don’t even know you guys and it hurts watching you kill time when you could’ve had everything a day ago, an hour ago heck even 5 minutes ago.

apply apply apply, don’t let this feeling be the reason you “fail” 💋🍑

[taeghi]

your little brother, my little secret

yn and joy share every secret, until yn returns from university to find joy's little brother jake has become irresistibly hot. maybe keeping just one secret from your best friend won't hurt… right?

PAIRING : best friends little brother!jake x reader

GENRE : smut & angst. jake's (shy) a sub for majority of it. dirty talk, masturbation, degrading + humiliation, & y/n is a menace.

WC : 14k

mdni

you’ve been counting down the days until summer for what feels like forever. you’re returning to your hometown for the entire two months you have until university starts again in september. 

you’ve been driving for miles now, just having to go to a university two hours away from your small hometown. but the summer air is thick and humid, and it blows throughout the car as all the windows are down. 

your best friend, joy, sits beside you. you’ve known her for just as long as she has moved into your small town when you both were ten. since then, you’ve shared everything together; every laugh, every tear… every secret. her family feels like your own, summers spent in their backyard, evenings filled with board games and cards. some nights in high school even included sneaking out to a party and drinking until you thought you’d throw up. 

last summer was different. you were abroad doing an internship for university. and you didn’t get a chance to stay long during christmas break. so, it’s been a while since you’ve actually stayed in your hometown with all its familiarities. 

“jake will be home when we get there,” joy says, loud enough to be heard over the wind and faint music. 

“oh right, how’s he liking university?” 

jake is joy’s little brother. he’s always been shy, introverted, prefers to stay home and play video games instead of going out like you and joy. you remember him as a cute kid, all wide eyed and shy smiles. you don’t remember him having much friends, he’d rather be alone in his room. it’s hard for you to imagine him navigating the crowded university, but you suppose he’s all grown up now. it’s been so long since you’ve seen him, and the thought of how much he changed lingers in your mind. 

“he likes it,” joy says, her long black hair blowing out the window, “he’s excited for summer like we are.” 

you nodded in response, thinking maybe jake would go out with you guys now instead of playing video games in his room all summer. 

“we gotta go to hyunjin’s this week!” joy declares, her eyes lighting with anticipation, “you know he’s throwing a big party this week. and then, there’s that new bar that opened downtown. we have to check it out!” 

you agree with joy. her energy is infectious despite her brash (sometimes too brash) exterior. joy has always been more straightforward and perhaps blunt than you are. when sometimes you can be a people pleaser and a pushover, joy is there to say the words you wish you could say. 

“i can’t wait,” you reply, “it’s been too long since we’ve had a proper night out.” 

joy shoots you a mischievous grin, her confidence unwavering, “oh trust me, yn. this summer, we’re going all out.” 

you roll your eyes at your pretty best friend, pulling into her family’s driveway swiftly. 

you and joy step through the front door of the house, a place that is more familiar and comforting than your own. the place smells like a home cooked meal and you are instantly greeted with joy’s parents’ smiles. joy’s mother envelops you in a hug, her warmth and kindness instantly easing any fatigue from the long drive. 

"oh, yn, joy, it's so good to see you both!" joy's mother exclaims, her smile radiant. "dinner will be ready shortly. you must be exhausted after the drive. please, sit down in the living room and relax."

joy's father joins in, his jovial voice filling the room. "how was the trip? traffic wasn't too bad, i hope?" her parents' genuine concern and hospitality are a stark contrast to your own parents. 

"it was fine, dad," joy replies, her tone affectionate yet tinged with a hint of impatience. "we're just glad to be home for the summer."

you smile over your shoulder at her parents as she drags you to the living room. it looks the same as you remember it; comfy fabric couch, family photos on the walls, lit candles around the room that mix with the smell of dinner. 

joy props her feet up on the coffee table as she starts to scroll her phone. a nonchalant smile plays on her lips, “can’t believe we’re back here.” she says with a sigh.

before you can respond, a sudden noise draws your attention towards the backdoor. two figures emerge, their arms swaying as they laugh and push each other. 

“hey guys,” joy's casual greeting halts their antics momentarily, but it's the sight of you on the couch that freezes one of the boys in his tracks. he stands there, awkward and unsure.

the other boy remains cool and confident as he greets joy and walks over to you both on the couch. he stands in front of you, sticking his hand out in front of your face, “i’m heeseung.” 

you look up at him as he stands, his features are chiseled. his eyes are a deep shade of brown. his smile is almost cocky, but disarming as he flashes it effortlessly. there’s an aura of assurance about him, that he knows he’s good looking and he’s confident about it. 

your hand meets his, “i’m y/n.” your eyes flicker back to the boy who remains rooted to the spot, his expression unreadable as he almost quiets away into the wall. 

“are you gonna come hug your sister, jake?” joy squeaks from beside you, she octaves her voice higher to be annoying on purpose. 

it’s then that you realize who is standing there in the corner– you almost didn’t recognize him. 

the shy, nerdy kid you once knew is now standing before– transformed in a way that catches you off guard. where once stood a lanky teenager, now stands a man that is toned and tanned. his hair is longer and tousled in a way that accentuates his features. he’s taller and broader. 

as you take in his appearance, you can’t help but be struck by how insanely hot he has become. 

he shifts nervously, perhaps sensing your gaze. his eyes turn to joy, “no way in hell am i hugging you.” 

joy's mother breezes into the room with a warm smile, "oh jake, give your sister a hug."

joy springs up instantly, tackling jake in a bear hug that's both affectionate and overly enthusiastic. jake groans, awkwardly patting joy's back as everyone chuckles. heeseung, settles down next to you, a confident smirk playing on his lips, his eyes holding a hint of nothing other than flirtatious. 

"right, yn," joy's mother continues, her tone gentle yet teasing, "heeseung here has been keeping jake entertained since you left."

heeseung chimes in, his voice dripping with sarcasm and humor. "yeah, we're inseparable now," he says with a grin.

you laugh, unable to resist teasing. "oh really? i remember jake having no friends at all."

joy joins in, her laughter ringing through the room. "seriously, all he did was stay in his room playing video games."

"be nice, girls," she says playfully. "joy, come help me with dinner. set up a place for heeseung, too."

heeseung stands up with a mock bow. "don't worry, i'll set up my own place."

joy groans at having to help, leaving you and jake alone in the living room, complaining about why she has to help but jake doesn’t. 

jake settles into the chair directly across you, but his body language shows he’s tense and restless and it suggests that he’d rather be anywhere else. he fidgets slightly, fingers rolling over each other in his lap, his eyes darting around the room and avoiding you. 

“so, joy told me that you’ve been liking university,” you speak, trying to ease him and the awkwardness. 

jake’s cheeks colour faintly, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “uh yeah, it’s fine.” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze. 

you lean back casually, “meet any hot college girls?” 

jake’s eyes widen as he shifts uncomfortably, a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. it’s endearing; how he still seems like the shy, introverted boy you’ve always known, now trapped in a hot guy’s body. 

“n-no, not really,” he stutters out. he can’t seem to meet your eyes when he speaks, his words stumbling over each other in a rush. it’s clear he finds you intimidating in a way, and you wonder what the reason is. maybe you’ll have to play with him a bit to figure it out. 

“really?” you tilt your head, your eyes not leaving him as he struggles to eye you, “i would’ve thought you had girls climbing all over you.” 

jake’s face redden more but he answers you, “no, that’s what happens to heeseueng.” he nods his head towards the kitchen. 

“hmm,” you sit back in the couch. you aren’t surprised that a boy like heeseung would attract a lot of women. he’s confident, outgoing and obviously attractive, but you’re surprised at jake’s answer. 

before you can question him more, joy pops her head in the living room, “come eat guys.” 

jake and you stand up and head to the dining table to eat. you think to yourself that this will be a fun summer as you glance around the room. heeseung eyes your bare legs as you sit beside him and start to eat. jake sits on the other side of the table, trying to not get caught staring at you as his parents ask your best friend questions about the school year.

you're sitting on the couch, tapping your foot impatiently, waiting for joy to finish her chores so you can head out and buy a dress for hyunjin's party this week. she's taking forever, folding laundry meticulously in the living room while you're itching to go. 

“joy hurry up, i wanna go!” you groan out to her, bored of scrolling on your phone as you wait for her. 

she rolls her eyes at you, “it’s not my fault that i’m an adult and have to do family chores, y/n.” 

“i know that! but you could do them faster.” 

she shoots you a look when you groan again, a playful smirk on her face. "fine, then help me," she says, handing you a basket overflowing with clothes. "bring this up to jake's room, it's all his disgusting clothes."

with a resigned sigh, you stand up and grab the heavy basket, muttering under your breath about how slow she is. 

you knock softly on jake's door, holding the basket of clothes joy asked you to deliver. after a moment, his voice replies, "come in." you push the door open slowly, finding jake sitting up on his bed, his feet on the ground facing you. 

"oh, hey yn," he says, his voice a little nervous and shocked once he sees you, his hand flying to hair to calm it. 

ey," you reply with a warm smile, stepping into his room. "joy wanted me to bring these to you. clean clothes," you explain, holding out the basket.

oh, thanks," jake mumbles, “you can just leave it on the floor there.” 

"no problem," you say casually, noticing how he avoids meeting your gaze. 

you step into jake's room, to place the basket down. you take the time to look around the once familiar room. it’s no longer childish, and clearly belongs to an adult. 

you glance at jake as you scan his room. he's sitting on his bed, looking slightly disheveled in grey sweatpants and a baggy sweater, his tousled hair indicating he's just woken up, so you ask him, “were you sleeping?” 

he nods sheepishly, “yeah i was out late with heeseung last night,” he admits, playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. 

you sit down beside him on the bed, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. the new information about his late-night outing intrigues you, prompting a teasing remark. "really? the jake sim goes out late? i can't believe it," you say with a playful smile.

he chuckles nervously, looking away from you. the awkwardness between you is palpable, despite the years of knowing each other. 

you can't help but notice how shy he still seems around you, his eyes avoiding yours as he tries to compose himself.

"are you this shy around everyone, jakey?" you ask bluntly, the nickname perks his interest. 

he glances at you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "uh, I don't know, I guess," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

“hmm,” you sit back on your hands on his bed, looking so casual next to his tense demeanor. you decide to keep pushing, wanting to see how far he’ll let you tease him. because you do love teasing men. it’s something that you find fun– more exciting than any foreplay or sex. joy always questions you about it. she doesn’t understand why you find it more thrilling to leave a man wanting more and then doing nothing about it. she likes to get her men swiftly and straightforwardly– like everything else in her life. but how is life fun without any games? “so what did you and heeseung get up to last night? anything… exciting happen?” your eyes hold his, challenging and enticing him all at once. 

jake’s adams apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, his eyes widening slightly at your bold question. “w-we just hung out, went to a bar and lost track of time.” 

“mmm, i see,” you let your gaze travel over him, taking in the cute way his bottom lip juts out. “so you were up late last night then? do you know what i do when i’m up late at night?” you lean towards him now. he stares at your face for a second, gulping when he realizes how close you are on his bed. 

“uh, what?” 

“naughty things.” you shrug nonchalantly. his eyes widen at your boldness and he shifts again, unable to hide his growing arousal. “did you think about naughty things last night, jakey?” 

“n-no,” he stammers, shaking his head, but the flush on his cheeks gives him away. 

you tsk at him, “jakey, you can tell me. i won’t judge. in fact, i might even like hearing those naughty thoughts of yours.” 

jake’s breath quickens as your pinky finger starts to brush against his thigh. “i… i don’t know,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from arousal and sleep. 

“go on,” you urge, your lips curving into a wicked smile, “you can tell me. do you think about me late at night?” 

a sound of shock escapes his throat, and he shifts, trying to ignore the growing hardness in his jeans, “maybe.” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. 

that’s it. you’ve got your in– he’s let you start a little game with him that could potentially make both of you feel good. 

“tell me,” you encourage him, your fingers now stroking his thigh up and down. “what about me do you think of?” 

his eyes squeeze shut, “just… you.” 

you laugh softly at his shyness, but you are so delighted by his response, “i want to hear more from you jake. what do you think about when you’re touching yourself?”

jake’s eyes fly open, a mixture of emotions swirling in their brown depths. desire wars with embarrassment, “i…i think about your body,” he confesses, his voice gaining some strength. “your soft skin, your- your curves. i imagine kissing you.”

you smile at how sweet he is, “that’s such a turn on, jakey.” he looks taken aback at your confession. “tell me what else you’d do to me if you could.” 

he gulps roughly, “i- i’d, make you cum.” 

you tilt your head, intrigued, “how?” 

“with my mouth.” 

you bite your lip at the thought of jake in between your legs, sucking and licking your core, getting you wet, preparing you for his cock. you wonder if he’d make you cry out from how good it would feel. you’re sure he would. 

but then you remember that this is a game. 

“hmm,” you shake your head at him, “you think that you’d make me cum?” you pretend to scan his body up and down, your hand getting dangerously close to his crotch. “we’d have to see about that.” you glance down at where your hand is meeting his body and are pleased to see his bulge, hard and pressing against his sweatpants.

before you can tease him further, his bedroom door swings further open, causing your hand to move briskly away from him. joy leans on the doorframe, her expression a mix of annoyance and impatience. 

“y/n you were rushing me, and now i’m waiting for you,” she groans, crossing her arms. “let’s go!” 

you stand up, giving jake a final teasing smile, “see you later, jakey.” you head towards the door, closing it after you, leaving him with some privacy to take care of the problem in his pants that you had created.

on the weekend, you got ready for hyunjin’s party at joy’s house. you just got out of the shower, your hair soaked and your skin damp and moisturized. 

you wrap the soft, white towel around your body, shaking your hair to get left over water out of it once more before you leave the bathroom to go to joy’s room. 

you step out of the bathroom, as you walk passed jake’s bedroom, his door swings up. his eyes glued to his phone as he steps out of his room. he glances up just as you pass by, and you catch the moment his eyes widen in surprise. his gaze lingers on you, a mix of arousal and embarrassment. like he’s unsure of what to do. 

you don’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you as you continue walking. there’s a slight flush on his cheeks and his posture stiffens. you smirk to yourself, enjoying the effect you have on him. enjoying the game you can play with him. it feels good to know you can fluster him so easily. 

you walk into joy’s bedroom, hearing her complain about her makeup looking awful already. you turn, giving jake one last glance before you close her door. his eyes quickly dart away, but the memory of his flustered expression stays with you. 

“god my eyeliner looks horrendous,” you hear joy say into her mirror, you turn so your back is facing her and you start to get dressed in the dress you bought the other. 

“it looks good, what're you talking about?” 

joy groans in response as you slip on the dress. you start to do your own makeup and hair, listening to the faint music in joy’s room. 

“do you think heeseung is cute?” joy asks suddenly. 

your face contorts to confusion, “i mean, i guess.” 

“i think so,” 

you whip around to look at your friend, “ew what? he’s your brother's friend.” 

joy shrugs, “so?” 

you turn away from her, instead focusing on putting on mascara, “so, you would let one of your friends get with your brother?” 

joy gags, “god, no. plus who the hell would want jake anyways? he’s gross.” 

you force a laugh to come out of your mouth, “haha, yeah…” you cringe at yourself. 

it’s silent for a moment and you think joy realizes that you’re acting weird at the mention of her brother. 

“ugh!” joy grunts loudly, making you jump and look at her, “i look awful, i’m gonna wash it all off and start again.”

“what? but we have to leave soon.” 

“i’ll be quick.” 

joy dashes out to the bathroom, leaving you to finish up in silence. leaving you to think more about what happened between you and jake so far and how it could affect your friendship with joy. you tell each other everything, but this… maybe you should keep to yourself, at least for a bit. 

when joy decides she looks good (she looks the exact same before she washed it off and restarted), you both head downstairs to leave. your heels click on the steps as you walk down. as you reach the bottom, you see heeseung jake in the hallway, also preparing to head out. 

you let your eyes scan jake, his jeans and loose button up shirt fit him nicely. and his long hair is somewhat styled out of his face. leaving him with a “i didn’t try” look. 

"you guys are going to hyunjin's?" joy asks, her tone casual but curious.

"yeah, we are. i didn't know you guys are, too," heeseung replies, a hint of surprise in his voice.

joy smirks at him, "yeah, we'll see you guys there, oh! i almost forgot my phone." she turns on her heel and heads back upstairs, leaving you alone with the boys.

heeseung's eyes scan you flirtatiously, and he smirks, "you look so good, y/n."

you play along, enjoying the banter, "thanks heeseung, you do too."

heeseung bites his lip, his gaze lingering on you. "maybe you'll save me a dance at the party."

you're momentarily taken aback by his forwardness but quickly recover, used to men like him. "maybe. but you'll have to get in line."

heeseung laughs at your joke, "i will."

joy comes back down, phone in hand. you glance at jake, who has been silent the entire time, his eyes flickering between you and the floor. you wave goodbye to the boys, feeling jake's gaze on you as you leave.

you and joy are driving to hyunjin's party. joy is singing along to the radio, excited for the night ahead. you glance at her and smile, but your mind is elsewhere. you've always played games with men, testing to see if they would submit to you or try to dominate you. it's a defense mechanism, something you've developed over the years to protect yourself.

your parents' rocky marriage and your past relationships have left you scarred. every time you let your guard down, you ended up hurt. so now, you stay in control, never letting anyone get too close. it's easier that way. safer.

you glance at joy again, grateful for her friendship. she's the only one who knows a bit about your past. the one person who knows all of your secrets. 

you and joy step into hyunjin's party, it’s as busy as you remember hyunjin’s parties to be. the music is loud, and the chatter of all the guests is even louder. 

you scan the room, spotting hyunjin across the way. a grin spreads across your face as you make your way over, joy trailing behind you.

"hyunjin!" you call out, and he turns, his face lighting up with recognition.

"yn! it's been ages!" he pulls you into a tight hug, and you laugh, hugging him back. you tell him how you’re so excited to be back in town for the summer and that you’re sure to be back at one of his parties again. 

you move through the room, greeting old hometown friends. familiar faces bring back memories, and you find yourself laughing and sharing stories about your time abroad and life in the big city. the warmth of the alcohol courses through your veins, making you feel lighter, more at ease while in such a big crowd. 

halfway through the night, the buzz from the drinks makes everything feel a bit more vibrant. the room spins slightly, but in a fun, exhilarating way. it's then that you spot jake and heeseung. they don’t blend into the crowd, and your eyes are drawn to them. they’re too tall and handsome to be at this party. 

heeseung approaches you first, a lopsided grin on his face. "hey, y/n! having fun?" he slurs slightly, his breath smelling of alcohol.

you laugh, finding his drunken self amusing. "yeah, a blast! how about you?"

heeseung nods enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "totally. i'm gonna get another drink, though. see you in a bit!" he winks and stumbles away, leaving you alone with jake.

jake stands there, drink in hand, looking slightly more composed but still nervous. he meets your eyes, and for once, doesn't immediately look away.

"hey, jake," you say, taking a step closer. "enjoying the party?"

he nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "yeah, it's fine.”

you laugh softly as he glances around the crowd, obviously not use to being around so many people yet, “yeah it’s a lot. but it’s good to see you out for once. you never wanted to go out with us in high school.” 

he takes a sip of his drink, gaining a bit more confidence. "it's good to see you too, yn. you look... really nice tonight."

you smile, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the alcohol. "thanks, jake. you look good too."

then jake speaks, but the music and people talking and yelling is too loud for you to hear. and you really want to hear everything he has to say. 

“let’s go somewhere quieter, it’s loud down here, right?” you yell so he can hear you. he nods and doesn’t say anything. 

you turn around and head upstairs, he follows along behind you. you feel his curiosity build. at the top of the stairs, you spot the bathroom and an idea forms in your mind. 

“actually, i need to go to the bathroom,” you laugh, placing a hand on his chest. “wait here, i won’t be long.” 

his eyes widen, but he nods, biting his lip. 

you enter the bathroom, but before you close the door you speak to him again, “actually, i have a favour to ask– could you unzip me? the zippers at the back and i can’t reach.” you gesture behind you. 

his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and nods, following you into the bathroom and closing the door behind you both. you make sure to lock the door. 

you turn so your back is facing him, the zipper on display for him, “just unzip it, please.”

jake hesitates but reaches up, grabbing the zipper and slowly pulls it down, your bare back on display for him. you smile at him once he pulls away and you turn around to face him completely. 

“jakey,” you tease the nickname, “have you thought about me since our conversation in your bedroom?”

jake gulps but nods, his eyes trying to meet yours, trying to look confident, “y-yes.” 

you smile sweetly at him, “what have you thought about?” you take a step back and then jump onto the bathroom counter, crossing your legs. jake eyes your bare legs, the way your dress bunched up at your waist to reveal more. 

“uh, just that i could make you cum, with my mouth.” 

you smile at him, though he’s too busy looking between your legs, your chest and the bathroom wall. “hm,” you pretend to think, “how about we start with you showing me how you can make yourself cum?” jake’s eyes shoot to yours at your suggestion, finally looking at your face since you’ve stepped foot in the bathroom. “i mean, only if you want. but i’d kill to see how you jerk off to the thought of me.” 

you hear jake swallow roughly, “okay.” 

you can’t help the devilish smile spread on your face at his one word, “take your cock out.” 

jake tries to hide his shock, barely believing that this is happening, as he starts to unbutton his jeans and shove them and his boxers down his leg. his semi hard cock springs up, he’s obviously aroused just from unzipping your dress halfway. he’s so easy to get flustered that it turns you on– you know this will be fun. 

“show me how desperate you are.” 

jake’s mouth goes dry at your words as they send a thrill through his body. he reaches down and wraps his hand around his throbbing cock, giving it a few tentative strokes to make it completely hard and needy. 

“that’s it, dirty boy,” you coo, encouraging him, “spit on it. show me exactly how you touch yourself.” 

jake moves so his hand is under his plump lips, and then lets a dribble of saliva pool down onto his palm. he brings his hand back to his hard cock and starts to jerk his cock now. it glides more smoothly now, and jake feels the urge to buck into his hand. 

“do you think about me all the time when your little dick gets hard, jakey?” 

jake’s cheeks burn, but he can’t deny your words, “yes…” he whispers hoarsely into the bathroom. 

“speak louder, jakey– i wanna be able to hear you.” 

“yes, i think about you.” 

you chuckle, it’s only just the beginning but you seem to have him wrapped around your finger.

“and what am i doing? when you think of me?” 

“you touching me, sucking me.” jake manages to croak out, his voice thick with arousal. 

as jake starts stroking himself faster, his breath comes in short gasps. you watch him with hooded eyes, a cruel smile playing on your lips, “you’ll only ever be able to think about me touching you,” you purr to him from your perched spot on the counter, “i only touch real men, men who can last and fill me up. and you…” you shake your head, looking straight at his hard cock, “you’ll never be able to satisfy me.” 

jake whimpres, his hips bucking involuntarily, “i want to please you.” 

you laugh coldly, “please me? you? with that tiny dick? you won’t fill me up. and the way you’re jerking off right now, you won’t last long enough to even try.” 

your taunts spur him on, his hand moving faster and faster. he bites his lip to stifle a moan, wanting to prove you wrong in this little game, but the more he tries to hold back, the closer he gets to the edge. 

“see, you won’t even last with just your hand, how would you be able to last in my pussy?” 

“i- i would try.” jake whimpers out, his eye is threatening to close. his hand starts to slow, wanting to last longer for you. 

you hum at the action, “good boy.” you dig your hand into your thigh, trying to control your own arousal, trying to pretend like you aren’t turned on at all. “now think that it’s me touching you. that it’s my hands stroking your hard cock up and down, getting you close to the edge.” 

you can tell jake starts to think exactly what you tell him, you stand from your position on the counter, you let your face nuzzle in between his neck, your warm breath sends shivers down his spine. “that’s it, pretend it’s me and my spit all over your cock.” jake whimpers out at your words so you continue, “you’re mine to play with, right?” 

“y-yes,” jake nods up and down, his thumb brushing over his sensitive slit before he continues to jerk his cock. 

you can’t say it– due to this character in this game you’re playing with him– but he looks so hot. the way he’s pathetically thrusting into his own palm, covering in his own spit and precum. his lip is tucked in between his teeth, his styled hair has fallen into his eyes. his whimpers and moans as he gets closer to his climax. 

“cum for me now, jakey. let it go like a good boy.” you whisper to him, “this is the only way you’ll ever get off– by jerking off so pathetically while i degrade you.” 

your words push him over the edge. jake cries out, a curse followed by your name. his body tensing as he spills his release, coating his hand and thighs with his cum. you step away from him, trying to ignore the way your pussy is clenching around nothing at the sight. because this is definitely a sight to see. 

“what a mess you’ve made,” you tsk at him, pretending to be disgusted by him, “but i think you need to prove that you can do better– hold out longer. because then maybe, you’d someday get to feel my pussy around that pathetic cock of yours.”

your words make him whimper out. the combination of humiliation, degradation and his intense orgasm leaves jake reeling. he leans against the wall of the bathroom, trying to catch his breath as he’s covered in his own cum and saliva. 

he watches you reach behind you and zip up your dress easily, quickly fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror before you smile at him one last time. 

“now clean up your mess and get yourself together, jakey. we don’t want anyone knowing what happened here, do we?” 

with that, you unlock the door and stride out of the bathroom, leaving jake alone to process what just happened. your heart is still racing and your body feels dissatisfied and yearning for more. but you know that jake has awakened something deep within you– and you can’t wait to play with him again.

you walk into the kitchen the next morning, the light almost blinding after last night's party. the smell of coffee and bacon fills the air, but it does little to ease the pounding in your head. you see jake, joy, and heeseung already sitting at the table, all looking as rough as you feel.

"well, don't you all look lovely," joy's mother says with a chuckle, examining the four of you all hungover and tired. 

as you sit down at the table in front of jake you try to muster a smile and say, "hi, jake," but he doesn't acknowledge you. he stares down at his plate, pushing his food around with a fork. the cold shoulder stings more than you'd like to admit, and you can feel a tightness in your chest.

you focus on your breakfast, determined not to let the hurt show. the last thing you want is for joy or heeseung to pick up on the tension. you take a sip of coffee, hoping it will jolt you back to life, but it only makes your stomach churn.

heeseung groans dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "hyunjin's parties never disappoint, huh?"

joy laughs, though it sounds more like a wince. "yeah, remind me to never drink that much again."

under the table, you poke jake with your foot to get him to look at you, he briefly does, but his warm eyes are now cold and glaring before he looks down at his plate again. 

you nod along, forcing yourself to join in the conversation. "definitely a night to remember... or forget."

jake stays silent, not looking at you again. you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to understand what went wrong. heeseung and joy are too wrapped up in their own misery to notice the silent exchange between you and jake. 

you keep your head down, focusing on your food instead. 

after breakfast, you sit back in your chair, hoping the food will settle your uneasy stomach. heeseung stretches and yawns. "how about a movie? something low volume to help with these headaches."

everyone nods in agreement, except for jake. he stands up, his plate still half full. "i'm going back to bed," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.

you watch him walk away, a mix of frustration and hurt bubbling inside you. "i'll be right back," you tell joy and heeseung. "need to use the bathroom."

you hurry upstairs, your heart pounding. you catch jake just as he's about to slip into his room. without thinking, you reach out and grab his upper arm, forcing him to turn around and face you. his eyes are still cold, distant.

"jake," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "what's going on? why are you ignoring me?"

he looks away, his jaw tight. "i'm not ignoring you. just tired."

"no, you're not," you insist, stepping closer, not wanting anyone to hear. "you've been avoiding me since last night. do you regret what we did?"

jake finally meets your gaze, you can see the conflict in his eyes. once he sees your concerned ones, his cold expression starts to melt and blends into the usual, shy and embarrassed one. 

“talk to me, jake.” 

he sighs, giving in to easily to you like always, “it’s just… you left so quick. i didn’t even get to say goodbye.” 

instantly you realize why he’s upset– your actions flashing in your head from the night before. you bite your lip in frustration at yourself, suddenly you were the one to be embarrassed. you understood how upsetting it can be for the other person to just leave so quick with no aftercare or reassurance. you want to blame the alcohol for your actions the night before, but that’s no excuse. you should’ve stayed for a few minutes. 

“you’re right, jake.” you state, his eyes meeting yours in surprise, “i should’ve stayed longer. i’m sorry– that wasn’t right of me. we should’ve talked more about what we are doing and how we feel about it. you know nothing i said during it was true right? like… about your dick and stuff. it’s all just for fun.” 

jake nods, unsure of what to say but is agreeing with you, so you continue. though, you can’t tell if he truly understands that you don’t mean the words you say during your time together. 

“besides staying longer, checking in on each other, is there anything else you would want? are you okay with what we are doing? with what happened last night?” 

jake gulps but stands up straight, looking at you, determined, “yes, i'm okay with what we are doing–more than okay.” his confession makes you smile, “but, i want to touch you, make you feel good, not just me.”

you bite your lip and think about it, “okay, we can do that– just give me time okay?” 

you usually don’t let the people you are hooking up with touch you or see you naked until you are 100% comfortable with the person. when you trust the person. but you’ve known jake for majority of your life… why would this be any different with him. you could trust him… right? 

“yeah, sure. all the time, just for you.” 

you meet his eyes at his words. he’s always so sweet to you, it makes you feel more guilty for the night before. 

“okay jakey, i’ll see you later.”

“see you later, y/n.” 

jake steps into his room and closes the door with a final wave. leaving you with your pounding headache and nausea. you sigh and head back downstairs to rest on the couch with joy and heeseung. you’ll worry about your situation with jake later when you can think straight.

joy bursts into her bedroom with a squeal, her energy contagious. "oh my god, and i forgot to tell you what happened at hyunjin's party the other day."

you lift your head from the bed, curiosity piqued. "oh god, what?"

joy plops down beside you, eyes wide with excitement. "jeno and i kissed."

you sit up, mirroring her excitement. "what? no way! how did that happen?"

she grins, her cheeks flushing. "we were both pretty drunk, and we ended up talking in the kitchen. one thing led to another, and... yeah."

"oh my god, joy, that's huge!" you exclaim, leaning in closer. "how was it? did he kiss you first? did you like it?"

joy nods, her eyes sparkling. "yeah, he kissed me first. and it was... amazing. but now things are kinda weird between us."

"weird how?" you ask, your mind racing with possibilities.

"he's been acting all distant and awkward," she says with a sigh. "i don't know what to do."

you squeeze her hand reassuringly. "maybe he just needs time to process it. you should talk to him."

she nods, her smile returning. "yeah, you're right. i'll talk to him."

you both fall back onto the bed, giggling. joy turns to you, her expression softening. "ugh, i can't believe i forgot to tell you that. we tell each other everything. i forget you can't read my mind sometimes. i'm so glad we are best friends."

she pulls you into a tight hug, and you hug her back just as tightly. "no secrets between us, ever," joy says firmly.

"right... of course," you reply, but your mind drifts to jake.

you hug joy a little closer, feeling the weight of your own secret.

the heat is unbearable by the end of july, and you're grateful for the relief of joy's family's pool. you and joy have been lounging in the cool water all day, floating lazily and enjoying the rare stillness. the sun beats down, relentless, but the water makes it bearable.

jake and heeseung come out, both in their bathing suits. you can't help but check out jake's body. his muscles are more defined, his skin tanned. he catches your gaze and blushes, looking away quickly. it makes you smile. even after cumming in front of you, he’s still so shy. 

the day drags on, the sun slowly sinking in the sky, casting long shadows over the backyard. heeseung eventually heads home, throwing a casual wave your way. joy decides to go inside, “i need to wash this chlorine out of my hair or else it’ll feel disgusting.” you nod, watching her leave, and suddenly you and jake are alone.

the silence between you holds tension. you float closer to him, your movements slow and deliberate. he seems nervous, his eyes darting everywhere but at you. you find it endearing, his shyness, his awkwardness. he can’t look at you in a bathing suit, how could he look at you naked?

"it's nice out here," you say softly, breaking the silence.

he nods, glancing at you briefly. "yeah, it is."

you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he's holding himself so tightly. you move closer, your fingers brushing against his under the water. he tenses, but doesn't pull away.

"you've changed a lot, jakey," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

he finally looks at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable. "so have you."

you tilt your head to the side, intrigued, “how so?” 

he hesitates, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. "you're more... confident. and, uh, you seem happier."

you try not to frown as his words bring you back to when you were in highschool. your parents were going through a divorce, your idiot highschool boyfriend cheated on you and you weren’t doing well in school. the only thing you really had was joy and her family that welcomed you in so warmly. you guess you forgot that jake had seen you at such a dark time. 

"yeah, those were tough times," you admit softly, your fingers trailing absently through the water. "but things got better."

he nods, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "i'm glad they did. you deserve to be happy."

"thanks, jake. that means a lot."

he shifts closer, his movements tentative and careful. "i always wanted to say something back then, but i didn't know how."

you raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "say what?"

"that you weren't alone," he says quietly. "that i was there for you, even if you didn't see it."

the vulnerability in his voice makes your heart ache. you reach out, your fingers brushing against his arm. "that’s sweet of you, jakey."

he looks at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“you said, you wanted to make me feel good too, right jakey?” you ask, your voice practically purring. 

jake gulps at the sudden change in atmosphere. the sun is dipping down in the sky, you’re in a bathing suit that brings out the colour of your eyes, and now you’re talking about him making you feel good. he feels like he’s in heaven. 

“y-yeah, if you want.” he replies shakily. 

you smile at his sweetness once again, “then go on and touch me.” you command, “prove to me that those fingers of yours are good for something.” 

jake hesitates, knowing that his pleasure is entirely dependent on yours now. but slowly, he reaches out and places his hands on your hips– the first time he’s ever touched you. “if your fingers can’t make me feel good, then what hope does your cock have?” 

you watch jake’s face, enjoying the desperation and determination in his eyes.

slowly, jake’s hand goes under the way, tracing the hem of your bathing suit bottoms. you have to bite your lip to hold back your gasp. his fingers trace over the cloth of your swimsuit, until they hover over where your clit is. 

jake begins to rub in slow circles, gently at first, then with more pressure as you struggle to hold back a soft moan. 

“hm,” you pretend to scold him, “do you even know how to touch a woman, or have you been too busy jerking off all by yourself?” 

“i, i know how to pleasure a woman– i know how to pleasure you, i can pleasure you.” jake is determined as his fingers continue to rub your clit faster. you briefly close your eyes, the water around your core turns you on more. 

“you should, because imagine how embarrassing it would be for heeseung to come out here and see me having to fake my moans because of you.” 

jake’s movements slow for a moment and you realize that you’ve found another way to play with him. a sly smirk spreads across your face, “didn’t realize that anyone could walk out her and find you with your fingers against my pussy?” 

“n-no,” jake whimpers out, his eyes darting from your face to the backdoor. 

you laugh at his worry, “relax,” you tell him seriously, “they can’t see what we are doing under the water– it’s too dark.” 

he nods, and picks up the pace of his fingers against your clit. 

you let out a moan, “that’s it, you’re doing better than i thought, jakey.” you glance down at where his hand is curving against your body. 

because truthfully, he was making you feel good. he was alternating between small circles and moving your clit side to side. the friction from your bathing suit rubbing against your clit made you squirm in the water. 

you reach up, deciding to reward jake, and slowly pull the straps of your bathing suit top down, letting the fabric fall away to reveal your breasts. jake’s gaze flicks to them, and your breath quickens. he’s looking at your breasts like they are the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“you want to suck on these, don’t you?” you ask, running your fingers over your nipples, now hard from the cool water and his gaze. “beg me, and maybe i’ll let you.” 

without missing a beat, “please, y/n, let me pleasure you. i want to taste you so bad.” 

you smirk, satisfied with his answer, “good enough, let’s see what your mouth can do.” 

you guide his head towards you, and he takes a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently at first, then with more fervour as you moan quietly. your hands tangle in his long hair, holding him close to you. 

“t-that’s it, that’s good.” your voice betrays you as you speak. you can’t forget who’s in control here. 

jake’s tongue flicks and teases, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. you pull his closer, his fingers on your clit don’t stop. you start to grind your hips against his hand, your breathing becoming ragged as jake brings you closer to the edge. 

"oh, fuck, i'm getting close," you whisper, my voice hoarse with desire. “i want to cum all over those pathetic little fingers of yours."

jake’s tongue works faster, knowing that your orgasm is close and with a final grind of your hips, you cum. your body shakes with pleasure as you let your head rest in jake’s neck to muffle your moans. he holds you firmly against himself, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

finally, you pull away from him, panting and your eyes mix with satisfaction, “good boy,” you whisper, running your fingers through your hair, getting it out of your face. 

jake fights the urge to kiss you, knowing that it would be wrong (it’s all you want). so instead he asks, “are you okay?” 

you want to laugh but you’re too worn out from your orgasm, “yeah i am, i’m just hungry.” 

it’s jake’s turn to laugh, “you want to get out and get some dinner.” he offers you his hand to help pull you out of the pool. 

you take his hand, letting him help you out, “yeah, i’m starving.” 

you both climb out of the pool, the cool evening air hitting your damp skin. he hands you a towel, and you wrap it around yourself, shivering slightly.

as you head towards the house, you glance back at him. "you coming?"

he nods, following you inside. there’s a look in his eye that sends a shiver down your sprint. it’s a mix of infatuation and adoration and it scares you. he’s your best friend's little brother. what you two have going on is only a game, meant to be for fun. 

but then why do you have this fluttering feeling in your chest everytime you see him?

"i can't believe you're leaving me here," you complain, sprawled across joy's bed as she packs to leave for the cottage with her family.

joy rolls her eyes, stuffing clothes into her bag. "it's only for three days."

"yeah, but that feels like a month to me."

joy laughs, shaking her head. "when we get back, we'll continue our summer of fun. we only have a month left."

you groan, letting your head fall back against the pillows. "don't remind me."

you watch as joy zips up her bag, her movements brisk and efficient. she glances at you, a fond smile tugging at her lips. you know she's excited about the trip, but the thought of being without her for three whole days feels unbearable. you wonder what you’ll do without her… and jake.

"i should go home," you say, pushing yourself up from the bed. "it's getting late."

joy turns to you, pulling you into a tight hug. "text me if you need anything."

"of course," you reply, hugging her back just as tightly.

you pull away and head for the door, it's only three days, but it feels like an eternity. but, maybe it’ll give you some time to think about what’s happening between you and jake. 

you wake up to your phone buzzing on your nightstand. you groggily reach for it and squint at the screen, reading joy's message.

 joy : [yn, jake isn't feeling good at all so we are leaving him home alone for the weekend. would you mind checking up on him sometimes?? thank you so much ily]

you sigh and rub your eyes before typing back,

you : [yeah sure, have fun this weekend]

lying back down, you think about how awful it is for jake to not be feeling well during the summer. you hope he's okay, and a pang of concern hits you as you imagine him alone in the house.

later in the day, you decide to bring him some soup for dinner, knowing he probably won’t cook for himself. 

so when the sun starts to set again, you walk up to the familiar path on the door to joy’s house and knock softly, hoping jake is awake and feeling better. when there’s no answer you point, and take out your set of keys, unlocking the door with the spare key that had given you years ago. 

you walk inside the house, it’s eerily quiet without the usual chatter and noises of people being home. heading upstairs, you stop in front of jake’s bedroom door, which is closed. you knock softly, “jake? it’s y/n.”

here’s a pause before you hear his muffled voice, “just go home, y/n.”

you’re taken aback. “i have soup for you.”

“not hungry,” he mumbles.

you sigh, pushing the door open anyway. his room is dark, the curtains drawn tightly shut. you see him lying in his bed, blankets pulled up to his chin. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face. “jake, are you okay?” you start, reaching out to feel his forehead. “let me take your temperature. oh my god you must be really sick– have you taken any medicine?” 

he shrugs you off aggressively, sitting up abruptly. “i’m not sick!” he snaps.

you’re taken aback and confused. “but, joy said you aren’t feeling well…”

“well, i lied, okay? so you can leave. i’m fine,” jake says, his voice laced with frustration, but his eyes can’t stay on yours for long. 

you sit on jake's bed, refusing to leave when he’s like this, "why did you lie to them, jake? what's wrong?"

he sighs, covering his face with his hands. "i just needed to be alone for a while."

"what's happened, jake?"

"nothing happened, y/n."

silence falls between you, the room feeling heavy with unspoken words. you watch him, his shoulders tense, his face hidden. you both sit there, processing the weight of the moment.

finally, you break the silence. "is it about me? us?"

jake looks up at you, his eyes filled with something that tells you you’re right. 

"well, what is it? i'm here now, let's talk."

jake sighs but sits up straight, trying his best to look at you. "it's just, i don't understand what this is. i mean, why me?"

"what do you mean why you?"

"because there's so many other better guys that you could get, l-like heeseung."

you tilt your head, confused. "why would i like heeseung?"

"because he's like a real man, one that i'm not. one that could please you a-and fill you up." his words echo the ones you speak when you fool around with each other, and your heart aches knowing that he’s been taking your words to heart. that he’s locked himself away in his bedroom for the weekend because of you. 

you smile and explain yourself, "jake, i don't like guys like heeseung. my university is filled with guys like heeseung. my attraction is to guys like you, kind, sweet ones that have no idea they're hot. if i liked heeseung, i would be with him and not you, right?"

he shrugs, "i guess."

"i think you're insanely hot, jake, you know that, right?"

jake looks at you finally, shocked. "you think i'm hot?"

you giggle, "of course, that's why i'm doing this thing with you. why’d you think i was doing this with you if you didn't think i was attracted to you?"

he shrugs, "because i'm like the only one around really in this small town."

"jake, i am attracted to you, and only you."

jake smiles, "i'm attracted to you too, y/n– you know i think you're beautiful."

it's your turn to blush now but you sigh, “the things i say to you when we fool around aren’t true. it only makes this, foreplay thing, fun, right?” you feel the need to explain yourself, “you like what we do together, right?” and jake nods immediately and it makes you want to giggle, but instead you reach your hand out, your thumb rubbing against his warm cheek. it’s cute how he instantly melts into your touch. he looks so pretty against your hand. 

you can’t help but lean in close to him, leaving only inches between both of your faces from connecting, “you know, jake,” you whisper to him, “if you want something, all you have to do is ask.” you see confusion cross his eyes as he takes in your words, “just ask, and if i say no, then we can do something else, no harm done, right?” jake nods slowly as he analyses the meaning of your words, “just ask.” 

jake swallows roughly, fighting his inner urge to look away from you– but he keeps his eyes on yours when he speak, “can i kiss you?” 

you smile at his simple request. how could you think he’d ask something dirty of you (though you would’ve said yes to anything to him), when the jake you know has always been so sweet. 

you don’t answer him but instead lean in so your lips meet his. they’re soft and warm. and the kiss is sweet and romantic. your heart begins to palpitate, and it scares you. you've never felt like this when you've kissed someone before. the sensation is new, and thrilling and slightly overwhelming. 

you pull away first, your breath slightly unsteady. you look at jake, whose eyes take a while to flutter open again, clearly so entranced by your kiss. his gaze is filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief, as if he's trying to process the reality of what just happened.

“i told you, just ask.” you smile at him, your voice as sweet as him. 

jake gulps, and you can tell he wants to speak again, and you wait until he organizes in his head about how he wants to say it. he looks at you again, his eyes looking directly into yours, “can i eat you out? i want to. i want to know what you taste like.” 

your eyes widen at his request, a shiver runs through your body. the side of him that you’ve been craving to see, a glimpse of the confident, assertive man that you know he is when you’re not around. he’s finally taking control, being dominant, and you don’t stop him. 

without further prompting, jake moves toward, getting on his knees on his floor as you sit on his bed. he kneels between your legs, his hands gently pushing your thighs apart. his hands run up your thighs, “wanna make you feel good, y/n.” jake says to you, his voice unwavering. 

“then do it,” you tell him. 

his fingers hook inside your shorts, pulling them down in one swift movement, leaving your core bare before him. you feel exposed to him as he lets his eyes scan your pussy. he lets out a groan once you’re bare before him. 

his tongue darts out, teasingly light as it flicks against your inner thigh. you inhale sharply at the sensation, goosebumps erupting across your skin. he takes his time, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin of your legs, inching ever closer to your center. he’s teasing is so experienced. 

finally, his mouth reaches your core, and he wastes no time in tasting you. his tongue delves into your folds, lapping at your juices greedily. moans escape your lips as his talented tongue teases your clit, circling and flicking it with just the right amount of pressure.

"fuck, you taste so sweet," he murmurs between licks, his breath hot against your soaked lips. "i could eat you out forever."

your hands tangle in his hair, guiding him closer, encouraging him to continue, “would you like that, jakey? being in between my legs forever?” you tease him, wanting to see how far he would push back into the whole dominant thing. you pant, arching your back as he sucks your clit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he pulls and tugs at the sensitive bud. it makes you cry out. 

“fuck yes, could be here all the time,” jake mutters out against your now soaked pussy. “do you like my mouth on you, y/n? like the way my tongue fucks you?” 

you feel a wave of arousal wash through you and head straight to your core at his words. you’ve never seen this side of him before. and you’re already enjoying it so much. 

"yes...feels so good," you manage to utter, “i love your mouth on my pussy so much. i had no idea you were this good at it.”

jake moans in response, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. he adds a finger, then two, thrusting them into your tight hole as he continues to work your clit with his tongue. you buck your hips, riding his face as waves of pleasure build within you.

"oh fuck, I'm getting close," you warn him, your body trembling on the edge. "don't stop, jake! please!" the use of his full name makes him eat you out faster and harder. 

He grunts in response, holding you firmly in place as he eats you furiously. and then, with one final swirl of his tongue and a hard suck on your clit, you explode around his mouth. your thighs tightening around his head. "hh god, jake!" you scream, your pussy clenching and pulsing as you ride out a powerful orgasm.

jake laps at your juices, reveling in the taste of your release. he continues to lick and kiss your sensitive flesh as the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through your body.

"that was...incredible," you breathe, before he leans up and kisses you, without even needing to ask– it turns you on more. you can taste yourself on his lips, a wicked reminder of the pleasure he just gave you.

“i’m glad you liked it, baby,” his pet name for you makes your legs squirm, “but i really want to know what your mouth feels like wrapped around my cock.” 

you smirk up at him, loving this side of him. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss that is rougher and sloppier than the other ones. 

you pull away first, a thin string of saliva connecting your mouths before it snaps. his breath comes in sharp gasps and you know he's eager for more. with a slow, deliberate movement, you reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open before tugging down the zipper. his hips help you ease his pants and boxers over them, freeing his hard cock.

"fuck, yes," jake breathes, his eyes fixed on your face as you take him in your hands. his length is impressive, thick and veiny, the head slick with pre-cum. you give it a teasing squeeze, enjoying the way he bucks slightly into your grip.

"you like this, baby?" you coo, stroking him slowly, teasingly. "you like the idea of my mouth on you?" without waiting for an answer, you lean forward and swipe your tongue across the tip, tasting the small drop that beads there. "mmm, delicious," you hum, taking him deeper into your mouth, sucking gently.

jake's hands thread into your hair, guiding but not forcing. "fuck, baby, that feels so good. I've fantasized about this for so long. your pretty mouth wrapped around me, sucking me dry." His voice is hoarse with desire, his hips twitching as he tries to suppress the urge to thrust into your hot, wet mouth.

you hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, your lips gliding over sensitive flesh. One hand cups his heavy balls, massaging gently, your thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind them. "You like that, Jake? Want more?" You hum against him, vibing your question straight to his groin.

he whimpers, his grip tightening in your hair. "yes, yes, don't stop. feels too good to stop." he bucks his hips, fucking your face gently, moaning as your tongue teases and flicks. "you're so good at this, baby. knew you'd be amazing." his words are punctuated by sharp intakes of breath as your tongue swirls and dances.

“hm, you’re such a desperate boy.” 

jake scoffs as he looks down at you, suddenly roughly grabbing your hair for you to look at him, “open your mouth wider, i’m gonna fuck your mouth.” he understands the game you want to play, understands that you want to see how dominant he can get. he knows you want to be forced into submission. 

you have to hold back your whimper at his words as they make your pussy clamp around nothing. 

you do as he says, opening your mouth wider for him to slide his entire cock inside of your mouth, reaching the back of your throat. 

“fuck,” a guttural sound leaves his mouth once you enclose your lips around his cock, your throat enwrapping his cock. he tangles a hand into your hair, slowly guiding his cock back out of you. “i wanna hear you gag on me, baby.” 

you moan around his cock, his words adding to the fire that’s lit in your abdomen. 

jake’s hips move gently at first, sliding in and out of your mouth, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat every time. “that’s it baby,” he encourages, his voice harsh as he looks down at you, “take it nice and deep. that’s what i want.”

As his rhythm increases, you sense his building orgasm, and you hum, the vibration making his eyes roll back. his once quiet bedroom was filled with his grunts and curses and the wet sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of your mouth. 

you tap on his thigh and he releases your hair, letting your body lax on the bed and letting you catch your breath. you pull away, a stand of saliva connects your lips to his cock. 

“want you to cum in my pussy, jakey.” 

instantly, you can feel the atmosphere in jake’s room change. he returns to his awkward, shy self and he can’t look at you anymore. you partly wonder if he doesn’t want to have sex with you. 

“i mean, we don’t have to have sex if you don’t wan-” you start to give him an out. 

“- i want to!” jake cuts you off with a rush, and he immediately looks embarrassed, “i mean, i’d like to, if you want to.” 

you smile at him, “are you sure?” 

“yes, it’s just…” jake trails off again, having to gain the courage to say, “i’m a virgin.” 

your jaw unconsciously drops. you’re surprised to hear his confession. you thought he was experienced given how attractive he is. but his admission only makes him more desirable to you. 

"don't worry, jake. we can take it slow," you assure him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "i really want this, and I want you."

he nods, his eyes nervous but full of desire. you can sense his eagerness, and it makes your pussy throb with anticipation. slowly, you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it off of your head, leaving yourself completely bare to his eyes. 

jake’s eyes widen as he takes in your body. you watch the brown orbs circle your entire core, watching as they move up and down your curves. it makes you giggle. 

“are you gonna get undressed too, jakey? or just me?” 

“n-no, i will,” jake stutters and takes off his own shirt. it reveals his abs that you’ve so desperately wanted to touch and lick the other week in the pool. so now that you’re alone, and you’ve given up some of your vulnerability to him, you reach out and trace the hardlines of his abs. his skin is warm and his chest is practically panting from being so turned on. 

“you’re really so beautiful, jakey.” 

you hear him gulp as he watches you touch him. it turns you on so much to see how quickly he can go from being in control, to being wrapped around your finger again. he’s so versatile that it makes your pussy throb with all the ideas you can do with him. 

you’re watching his adam's apple bob as he swallows, his eyes following your every movement. you push him down onto his bed so his head is on his pillow. you straddle his thighs, feeling the hardness of his dick pressed against your stomach. his hands rest tentatively on his sides, as if he's not sure whether to touch you or not. you take his hands in yours and place them firmly on your body, encouraging him to hold you.

"i want you to feel every inch of me," you whisper, grinding your hips against him. his dick slides against your clit, making you gasp at the pleasure shooting through your body.

"you feel so good," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with need.

you smile, feeling powerful and desired. you lean down, pressing your breasts against his chest as you capture his lips in a passionate kiss. his hands move eagerly over your body now, exploring your curves. you moan into his mouth, your tongue dancing with his.

breaking the kiss, you sit up straight, taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. "touch me, jakey," you encourage him, guiding his fingers to pinch and roll your sensitive nipples. "that's it… fuck. you know how sensitive my nipples are.” 

jake’s eyes are fixed on your breasts as he watches his fingers play with your nipples, making them harden even more. you arch your back, offering yourself to him, and his breath quickens as he takes in the sight.

"i want you inside me," you whisper, positioning yourself above his throbbing cock. you hover just above him, rubbing your swollen clit against the tip of his dick, making him groan and buck his hips instinctively.

"not yet," you tease, denying him entry. "i want to feel you fill me up first."

he nods, biting his lip as he tries to control his urge to thrust into you. you smile at his eagerness, loving how responsive he is to your slightest touch and instruction.

slowly, you lower yourself onto his shaft, engulfing his thick length inside your tight, wet pussy. you moan loudly as you sink down, feeling him stretch you deliciously. "oh fuck, jake... you feel bigger than i imagined," you pant, throwing your head back in pleasure. jake groans out as he fills you up. the way his name rolls off your tongue makes his cock twitch inside of you. 

jakee watches, mesmerized, as your body rises and falls, his dick sliding in and out of your slick core. "you look so beautiful riding me," he breathes, his hands gripping your hips as if he wants to pull you even closer.

you quicken your pace, riding him with abandon. your breasts bounce with each thrust, your nipples rubbing against his chest. "does my tight pussy feel good around your cock, jakey?" you ask, grinding your hips in circles.

"so good... so fucking good," he grunts, his eyes rolling back slightly as he loses himself in the sensations. "i've fantasized about this... about you..."

hearing his admission sends a thrill through your body. you lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you pound your pussy onto his cock, driving him deeper with each thrust. "you like my pussy, don't you?"

"fuck yes... it's so wet and hot... feels like heaven," he moans, his fingers digging into your hips as if he wants to leave marks. he gulps and you can tell he’s thinking about saying something, your hips enticing him to say it, “you like my cock? the way it stretches you? fills you? i bet, ugh, you can feel how hard it is inside of you.” 

“mhm,” you whimper out to him, loving this side of him, loving when it comes out and makes your pussy squeeze around his cock tighter. 

you sit up straight, your hands reaching behind to grip his thighs as you bounce on his lap. "tell me if you're close, jake. i want you to cum inside me."

he nods vigorously, his eyes locked on where your bodies are joined. "i'm close... so close..." he observes how wet your inner thighs are as you bounce up and down on him. 

You increase your speed, your pussy juices coating his shaft as you slide up and down so quickly, “cum for me jake, fill my pussy with your hot cum.” 

jake grunts out, moaning your name, he arches his back, his body tensing as he releases his load deep inside of you. you feel his cock twitching with each spurt, sending ripples of pleasure through your own body. "that's it, baby... fill me up," you encourage him, continuing to ride him through his orgasm. your own orgasm following his. the twitching of his cock releasing his sperm makes your pussy clamp down, your body shakes and your hands grip onto his chest harder as the orgasm washes through you. 

finally, he collapses back against the bed, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. you sit atop him, feeling his cum leaking out of your well-fucked pussy. you lean down, kissing him softly. "that was incredible," you murmured against his lips. 

he smiles, a mix of satisfaction and awe on his face. "you have no idea how long i've wanted that..."

you trail kisses along his jawline, a sense of power coursing through you. "i think i do,"

you slowly get off of jake and lay beside him, your chest starting to slow it’s movement as you catch your breath. you’re suddenly aware of the cooling sweat on your skin and the sticky mess between your thighs. the post-nut haze starts to lift as you register the reality of what just happened. you scan the room for your clothes, hoping to dress quickly and slip away. but jake is quicker than you. 

jake stands up and goes to the bathroom, wetting a cloth and coming back to your position in bed. he sits beside you, and looks you in the eye for permission to clean you. you nod silently, and let him open your legs. he gently wipes the saliva and cum off of you. the feeling is intense as he takes care of you. 

he presses a soft kiss onto your knee cap and you feel like your heart is gonna explode in your chest from sheer panic. this is all too vulnerable, all too intimate to what you are used to. 

when jake goes back to the bathroom to clean himself, you hurry and dress again. you beeline straight to the front door of the house– not looking at any family pictures on the wall, not being able to bear to see your best friend's face right now. 

padding softly towards the door, you stop to look back one last time. it was just sex, you tell yourself. and yet, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between you and Jake. 

just as you begin to pull the door open, you hear his voice call out, soft but insistent, “wait y/n!” your heart leaps into your throat and you turn, seeing jake standing there, fully clothed now. “i have to tell you something.” 

your heart feels like a lump in your throat as you swallow roughly, “what is it?” 

he takes a deep breath, his expression vulnerable. "i like you, y/n. i've always liked you since we were kids. i've just never said anything because i've been too shy and– and insecure. you deserve someone better than me."

your heart aches at his words. "jake, no. you're the best person i know. you don't deserve someone as awful as me." it breaks your heart to see him so insecure, especially around you. you've noticed how he is different when you aren't there, how he's more outgoing and confident.

he shakes his head, his eyes filled with earnestness. "no, y/n, that's not true. you're amazing, and i wish you could see that. i've always been afraid to tell you how i feel because i didn't think i was good enough for you."

"but jake, you are good enough. you're more than good enough." you squeeze his hand, trying to convey just how much you mean it. "i've been hurt before. that's why i don't get into relationships. i'm scared to be vulnerable, to let someone in."

"i understand," he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "but i’ll be here for you, whenever you need. i want to be with you.”

you swallow, "but what about joy?"

he hesitates, then says, "i know it could be complicated, but we can figure it out together."

you nod, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. "i like you too, jake. more than i realized. but i'm scared." 

jake smiles softly at you and wraps his arms around you. you let yourself melt into his arms, taking in his scent and warmth. you feel safe for the first time in your life. feeling safe and being held is all you’ve ever wanted. you didn’t want to be the one in control all of the time. jake allows your walls to be down– allows you to be vulnerable and safe at the same time.

"i'm scared too," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "but i think we can make this work if we try."

you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "i hope so."

you leave his room, your heart lighter but an anxiety settling upon you. you hope no one gets hurt in this. you’ve been hurt too many times and you would hate to see the ones you care most about being hurt. 

 as you walk down the stairs, you can't help but feel a sense of relief. maybe, just maybe, you could be happy.

you and jake have been seeing each other for a few weeks now, careful to keep things secret. it's not that you don't want anyone to know, but you're not sure how joy will react. she's your best friend, and jake is her little brother. the dynamic is complicated, to say the least. 

one evening, joy is hosting a small get-together at her place. a few friends from high school, some new ones from college, and, of course, jake and you. you and jake have gotten good at sneaking glances, sharing secret smiles, and brushing against each other in passing without anyone noticing.

but tonight, something feels different. the tension between you and jake is palpable, and you catch joy watching you both a few times with a curious look in her eyes. you try to play it cool, but it's hard when all you want is to be close to him.

at some point, jake and you meet in the hallway, away from everyone’s prying eyes. jake takes this opportunity to slip a hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. you smile at him, your heart fluttering at the simple touch. everything he seemed to do made your heart ache more for him. 

"what's going on here?"

the voice makes you rip your hands away from each other. but when you turn and see your best friend, so visibly angry and confused, you know it’s too late. 

you and jake freeze, exchanging a quick, nervous glance. you clear your throat, trying to come up with an explanation, but nothing comes to mind.

"uh, nothing," you stammer, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

joy narrows her eyes at you, then at jake. "nothing, huh? because it sure looked like something."

jake sighs, realizing there's no point in hiding it anymore. "joy, we need to talk."

joy raises an eyebrow. "yeah, i think we do." she crosses her arms over his chest, her eyes glaring at you both of you. 

jake takes a deep breath and looks at his sister, "joy, y/n and i have been seeing each other," he says, his voice steady but nervous.

joy's eyes widen even more. "what? since when?"

"a few weeks now," you admit, feeling the need to finally be honest.

joy looks between the two of you, her expression a mix of surprise, anger and confusion. "why didn't you tell me?"

"because we didn't know how you'd react," jake explains. "you're my sister, and y/n is your best friend. we didn't want to make things weird."

joy stands in her place, her gaze flickering between the two of you, “i can't even look at you right now, y/n. i have to go."

panic surges through you as joy turns to leave. "joy, no please, we can talk about this." you reach out and grab her wrist, desperation in your voice.

she snatches her wrist away, glaring at you. "talk about what? that you’ve been lying to me for weeks? i thought we told each other everything, y/n. this is too much."

without another word, joy storms off, heading back to her room and leaving her party and guests behind. the music and laughter feel distant and hollow as you stand there, guilt and regret washing over you.

you glance at jake, his expression mirroring your own feelings of hurt and regret. you both know the pain you've caused joy. the pain you’ve caused the only person who has stood by you your entire life. 

but jake grabs your hand again, comforting you. you know that you can’t leave this relationship with jake behind. you need to find a way for you to be truly happy with both siblings in your life.

the next day, you find yourself knocking on joy’s bedroom door. the air still heavy with unresolved tension as she opens the door to see you. she groans and walks towards her bed, leaving the door open for you to enter. 

you sit across from joy on her bed, her expression softening as she takes a deep breath.

"i'm sorry for walking away like that," she begins, her voice quiet but sincere. "i've had some time to think, and i realize now that i wasn't upset about you and jake dating. i was upset because you kept it a secret from me. our whole friendship relies on knowing everything about each other."

you nod, feeling the weight of her words. "i'm sorry too, joy. i've been a bad friend. i didn't want to hurt you, but i didn't even know my own feelings towards jake. everything happened so fast, and i was scared."

joy reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "i understand. i just felt left out and betrayed, but i get it now. we all make mistakes,” she nods understandingly. 

"i promise i won't keep anything from you again," you say, your voice filled with determination. "you're my best friend, and i don't want to lose that."

joy smiles, a genuine warmth returning to her eyes. "i forgive you, y/n. let’s move past this, okay?” she opens her arms up, letting you wrap your own arms around her. the hug is tight and loving, like usual. 

as you both pull away, you notice jake standing at the door, a sheepish look on his face.

"i overheard your conversation," he admits, stepping into the room. "i'm really sorry too, joy. i never wanted to come between you two or cause any problems."

joy looks at her brother, then back at you, and smiles. "it's all good, jake. just promise me you'll take care of each other and be honest with me from now on."

"we promise," you both say in unison, causing joy to laugh.

"well, at least we will be sister-in-laws someday," she jokes, making you all laugh.

the thought of marriage might be far too soon, but as you stand there with your best friend and jake, the idea doesn't seem so far-fetched. the three of you hug on her bed. 

you know that maybe someday your best friend would become your sister-in-law, and her little brother would become your husband. for now, you're happy, and that's all that matters.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

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[zorobff]

how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)

synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.

warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left

word count: 4.7k

“this guy is full of shit.”

you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?” 

zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.” 

“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?” 

“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”

you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.” 

the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps. 

“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”

“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest. 

you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?” 

zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”

“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.” 

at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades. 

“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”  

zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”

“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.” 

zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a second to realize he’s not walking alongside you.

“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense. 

you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”

before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison. 

“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!” 

you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes. 

“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home. 

he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.  

“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it. 

“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.” 

“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”

“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.

“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”

zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”

you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side. 

“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.

“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.

“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance. 

you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised. 

going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste. 

“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.

usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”

zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”

“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off. 

abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”

the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?” 

the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”

“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”

“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”

before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly. 

“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly. 

“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.” 

the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.” 

“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.” 

“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly. 

your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”

“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are. 

kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.” 

klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”

“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?” 

giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.” 

luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?” 

“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”

she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved. 

“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?” 

“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.” 

his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.

the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.

“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”

he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”

his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different. 

“hey, you comin’?”

you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken. 

“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps. 

zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.

“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”

“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall. 

“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.

nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.” 

“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich. 

“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?” 

you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.

nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.” 

you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”

“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.

nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.

“way to keep me humble, luffy.”

“no problem!” 

at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a silk robe. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed. 

“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.

he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.  

“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?” 

“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint. 

his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy. 

“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board. 

as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.” 

“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress. 

“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”

you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.

the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form? 

“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being. 

he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”

you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”

zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”

by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best. 

luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro. 

“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.

“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute. 

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go. 

dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”

“very on brand.”

“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”

arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard. 

once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.

“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.

you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.

looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.” 

kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.” 

“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 

“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.” 

while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable. 

“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”

you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.

kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.” 

he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler. 

you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets. 

“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare. 

“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.

“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?” 

you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”

zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?” 

his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.” 

before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?” 

luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.” 

“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly. 

“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.” 

“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.” 

“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”

you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included. 

“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.

you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.

“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react. 

“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.

“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.

all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.” 

“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.

“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.

a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.

turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”

“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.

kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”

the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”

you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”

zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”

you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you. 

“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.

he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.” 

you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”

he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.

“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”

kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”

“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”

“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses. 

the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect. 

he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”

you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”

he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”

“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.” 

“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”

you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”

“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”

you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”

you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”

the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is. 

“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.

that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.

kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.

zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused. 

sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.

“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.

he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”

you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”

“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”

his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”

the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?” 

you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.

“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”

“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”

he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”

you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”

that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.” 

though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.

“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.

zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”

“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.

“only for pretty things.”

“do you mean me or the dress?” 

now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle. 

a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.

“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”  

he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure. 

when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.” 

“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.

you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”

you both know that means yes.

[itendtothinkalot]

in this economy? (part 2)

summary: you needed money. he needed a fake girlfriend. easy deal, right? except he’s your best friend’s boss. and you’re one minor inconvenience away from setting something on fire. he’s cold, rich, emotionally unavailable. you’re loud, broke, and very good at pretending this isn’t slowly turning real.

genre: fluff | fake dating

characters: ceo!heeseung x f! broke ass reader

words: 11k???

warnings: implied sex

part 1

"Where's Jake?" you asked, dropping your bag onto the seat in front of Heeseung’s desk like you owned the place.

He didn’t glance up from his computer. “He has a meeting. I sent him on my behalf.”

You blinked. “Wait. You actually trust him to speak on your behalf?”

Heeseung paused, then looked up slowly. “Not really. But the board finds him charming and impossible to argue with, so it balances out.”

“Huh.” You nodded thoughtfully. “Dangerous skill set. Should be illegal, honestly.”

You hesitated for a beat, shifting your weight between your feet.

“Then… should we still continue?” you asked. “I mean, without Jake hovering and directing us like a deranged drama teacher. I can come back in an hour. Or tomorrow. Or never. I’m flexible.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to the pantry to steal bread, aren’t you?”

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

“I—”

“There’s some over there,” he said, cutting you off with a tired sigh, nodding to a neat tray sitting on a side table near the window. “You don’t have to steal them anymore.”

You stared at him.

He looked back at you, completely unamused.

“You stocked bread for me?”

“No,” he said flatly. “They were already there. I just didn’t bother to hide them.”

Your lips twitched. “So… a passive offering.”

“More like preemptive damage control.”

You crossed your arms and tried not to smile. “You’re being oddly considerate today.”

“I just don’t want crumbs on my conference table again.”

“I make no promises.”

Heeseung exhaled, returning to his screen.

You walked over to the tray, took a roll, and sat down in the chair across from him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And somehow… it kind of was.

The two of you had, against all odds, managed to fall into a kind of rhythm.

Heeseung sat at his desk, typing away at some high-stakes corporate proposal with the focus of a man trying to win a war. His jaw was tense. His posture perfect. Not a single hair out of place.

You, on the other hand, were curled up on his couch—yes, the very expensive, probably Italian-imported couch in the corner of his office—laptop balanced on your thighs, working on a university assignment that made you question all your life choices.

It had been relatively peaceful.

Until you sighed.

Again.

For the tenth time.

Loudly.

Heeseung’s fingers paused on the keyboard. He let out a groan, leaning back in his chair. “Can I help you?”

You didn’t look up. “No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve sighed ten times in the last fifteen minutes.”

“I sigh when I’m tired,” you muttered, chin resting in your palm. “It’s a coping mechanism.”

“Then maybe you should be concerned for my well-being.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was the tiniest upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You know, most people who use my office do it for meetings. Business. Work.”

“I am working,” you said, lifting your laptop like a trophy. “This is an academic battlefield.”

He snorted softly. “Right. And I assume the heavy sighing is your war cry?”

“Correct.”

You slumped further into the couch, dramatically over-exaggerating your next exhale.

Heeseung shook his head, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like unbelievable, but he didn’t kick you out.

Instead, he turned back to his screen.

And you kept sighing.

Maybe a little louder this time—just for fun.

You were trying. Truly. Every ounce of effort was going into keeping your eyes open.

But the soft whir of the air conditioning, the muffled clicks of Heeseung’s keyboard, and the dangerously plush couch—the one you swore had memory foam meant for seduction—were all working against you.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Your screen blurred. Your head dipped.

And then you were gone.

Curled up awkwardly, slumped to one side, your head tilted off the edge of the couch like gravity had given up. Your mouth parted slightly, and one arm hung limp off the cushion, fingers twitching like they were still trying to finish a sentence.

Across the room, Heeseung didn’t notice right away.

But then the silence hit.

No more sighing. No muttering. No passive-aggressive typing.

He finally looked up from his screen.

You were fast asleep. In his office. On his couch. With your mouth open.

And somehow… you still looked soft. Small. Asleep in a way only someone who was truly exhausted could be—your guard down completely for the first time since he met you.

His brows lifted, surprised at the sudden pang in his chest.

He set his pen down. Sat back in his chair.

Then, after a moment, he rose—slowly, quietly, as if not to wake you.

He crossed the room, footsteps soundless against the carpet. For a beat, he just stood there, gazing down at you. Your breath was steady, lashes resting against your cheeks, hair a little messy from where you’d burrowed into the armrest like it owed you comfort.

Heeseung let out a small breath of amusement. Shook his head. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he shrugged off his jacket.

It was still warm from his body. Crisp and dark and clearly expensive.

But without a second thought, he leaned down and draped it over your sleeping frame—gentle, careful. He adjusted it around your shoulders, tucking the edge around your knees like someone who’d done this before. Like someone who wanted you to stay warm.

His fingers hovered at your wrist for a second too long.

He didn’t know when it had started—this quiet shift inside him. This tug. This softness.

You mumbled something in your sleep and shifted slightly under the jacket, your nose scrunching the way it always did when you were annoyed.

Heeseung smiled. Not the amused kind. Not the forced, polite kind he used at business meetings.

He watched you for another beat, hands back in his pockets now, expression unreadable save for the faint flicker in his eyes.

“…Don’t drool on the couch,” he murmured softly.

Your breathing had evened out. The room was quiet. Peaceful, even. But then your head shifted.

Just slightly at first, a twitch in your sleep—then more. A slow, inevitable tilt toward the edge of the couch cushion. Your cheek slipped against the fabric, your entire upper body beginning to slide.

Heeseung caught you before gravity could win. His hand shot out, steadying the side of your head, palm cradling the curve of your temple with surprising gentleness.

He froze.

Your hair was soft. Your skin warm against his fingers.

You stirred at the contact, brows twitching, and he held his breath.

If he moved you too suddenly, you'd wake up. And as much as he'd pretend it was to avoid the awkward explanation, a small part of him didn’t want to see that shift in your eyes—the one where you’d go from relaxed and unguarded to self-conscious in a flash.

So, he didn’t move you.

Instead, with a barely-there sigh, Heeseung sat down beside you. Slowly. Carefully.

And with a hesitant, almost unsure motion, he tilted his shoulder toward you, easing your head against it.

You didn’t stir.

He relaxed, just slightly, settling in. One arm resting loosely behind you on the back of the couch, the other propped on his leg. Your head fit there like it belonged—heavy, warm, grounding in a way that made no logical sense to a man who built his world out of logic.

He turned his head just enough to glance down.

You were still sleeping. Peacefully now, your lips parted, breath brushing the fabric of his shirt.

He shouldn’t have let this happen.

This wasn’t part of the contract. This wasn’t strategy. This was something else entirely. Something real. And that was dangerous.

But… he didn’t move.

Didn’t want to.

Minutes passed. Long enough for the hum of his computer to fade into background noise. Long enough for the warmth of your body to seep through the layers between you.

Eventually, without quite meaning to, Heeseung's head drifted sideways.

And rested gently against yours.

His eyes closed.

Sleep tugged at him.

And before he could tell himself this was a terrible idea, he was out too.

—

“Uh… Mr. Lee?”

The voice was hesitant. Too hesitant.

Heeseung stirred with a low breath, one hand coming up to rub the sleep from his face. His neck ached. His back cracked. His eyes were still half-closed, vision blurry from the impromptu nap—until the shape beside him shifted ever so slightly.

Warmth. Weight. Soft hair against his collarbone.

You.

Still asleep, head nestled against his shoulder, one hand curled lightly near his chest, your body tucked close to his side like you’d been there all along. Your leg had, at some point, slid across the cushion, half draped over his. His jacket—his expensive, custom-tailored jacket—was still wrapped around you.

And you looked peaceful.

Which made it worse.

His breath caught, muscles going rigid. He moved the tiniest bit and—

Your head shifted.

Rested more firmly against him.

His eyes widened. He froze.

The sudden, horrifying realization of his current position crashed down on him like a second cup of scalding coffee: He was on a couch. In his office. Asleep. With you.

His fake girlfriend.

His hired, bread-stealing, chaotic fake girlfriend.

He didn’t even have time to process the panic beginning to crawl up his throat before a second voice—a louder one—cut through the awkward silence.

“SEUNG!”

A loud clap echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Heeseung flinched violently. You jerked awake with a muffled yelp, nearly toppling off the couch in the process.

Jake was standing near the door, clutching his tablet awkwardly like it was a shield. His expression was half amused, half frozen in I’m witnessing something I should absolutely not be witnessing panic.

And behind him—

Grandpa Lee.

Cheerful. Smiling. And very observant.

Heeseung sat bolt upright, his shoulder cold from where your head had been. You blinked up at the room in confusion, your hair a mess, his jacket slipping off one shoulder.

Your eyes met Jake’s first.

Then Grandpa’s.

Then slowly—painfully—Heeseung’s.

There was a long, horrible silence.

Jake cleared his throat. “I—I knocked. I definitely knocked.”

You looked at Heeseung, wide-eyed, still half-asleep. “Did I… drool on you?”

Heeseung said nothing.

Because yes.

Yes, you had.

Right on his dress shirt.

He ran a hand down his face.

Grandpa Lee took one look at the scene—the two of you crumpled on the couch, the jacket, the disheveled closeness, the obvious, inarguable evidence of intimacy—and clapped again.

Grandpa Lee took one look at the scene—the two of you tangled on the couch, his grandson’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders, your face still warm from sleep, Heeseung looking like he’d rather melt into the floor—and clapped again.

This time in absolute delight.

“Well, well, well!” he beamed, eyes twinkling. “So this is the girlfriend I’ve been hearing about.”

He wiggled his eyebrows with the energy of a man half his age and immediately began making his way across the room—eyes fixed on you like you were a prize to be claimed.

Unfortunately, the coffee table had other plans.

He bumped into it with a grunt, then made an awkward shuffle-waddle between the corner of the table and the armrest of the couch, muttering something about how “the furniture in this place keeps shrinking.”

You panicked.

Immediately sprang to your feet like someone had launched you out of a cannon.

“Hello! Mr. Lee!” you blurted, practically diving over the armrest to intercept him before he got too close to your nap crime scene. You stumbled slightly as you landed, pushing your hair back and straightening your posture in one frantic movement. “It’s, um—it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You stuck your hand out stiffly. Firm grip. Friendly smile. Crisis mode: activated.

He took your hand with both of his, beaming. “My, my, my. You’re prettier in person than the way Jake described you.”

Your eyes snapped to Jake, who was hiding behind his tablet and mouthing I’m so sorry while also very clearly not sorry at all.

You turned back to Grandpa Lee, cheeks on fire. “Ah—thank you, sir. I—um—I really wasn’t planning to… meet you while half-asleep on Heeseung’s couch but—”

You laughed. A bit too high-pitched.

Heeseung made a strangled noise behind you.

Grandpa Lee chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry about that. You’re the first girl I’ve seen knock him out cold. Must be doing something right.”

Your soul left your body.

You smiled, borderline delirious now. “Right. Yes. That’s me. Doing things right.”

Grandpa leaned in slightly, peering at you with amused affection. “You call him Seung, huh?”

You blinked. “Sorry?”

“You called him Seung in your sleep,” Jake chimed in unhelpfully from the corner.

Heeseung let out a sharp exhale. “Jake.”

“I just thought it was cute,” Jake said, shrugging.

“I—I must’ve been dreaming!” you blurted, your laugh high and awkward as you fidgeted with the sleeves of Heeseung’s jacket still wrapped around you. “Dreams are wild, right? Who knows what they mean. Crazy subconscious stuff—anyway!”

Your eyes lit up suddenly, and you reached out, gently grasping Grandpa’s forearm. “Grandpa Lee, have you eaten yet? You must be so tired after all the traveling. I should’ve asked earlier—do you want some tea? Water? Should I—should I find someone to bring you something?”

His eyes crinkled, delighted. “My, oh my. A girl with so much manners.”

He gave you a fond pat on the back, then turned immediately to Heeseung, his face dropping into theatrical disapproval. “You little brat.”

Heeseung, still half-seated on the couch, blinked. “What?”

Grandpa raised his cane with flair, like a sword in a historical drama. “Why aren’t you the one taking care of me?”

“I—I didn’t know you were coming today—”

“She’s the one asking all the thoughtful questions,” Grandpa interrupted, gesturing toward you with a dramatic swing of his cane. “Why aren’t you ever this considerate? Huh?”

Heeseung opened his mouth to respond. Closed it. Looked mildly offended. “I pay for your full-time driver, your concierge doctor, and the personal chef who makes your weird seaweed soup every Tuesday.”

“And yet,” Grandpa sniffed, crossing his arms, “she asks me if I’ve eaten. That’s love. That’s care. That’s human decency.”

You tried very hard not to laugh, smoothing your hair nervously and reaching to help Grandpa steady himself when he shifted his cane.

He gave your hand a squeeze.

“You’re very sweet, dear,” he said, looking at you like you’d just personally renewed his faith in humanity. “If Seung doesn’t treat you well, I’ll disown him.”

You turned pink. “Oh—thank you, sir. He’s been… very kind.”

Behind you, Heeseung made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan.

You turned to glance at him, and just for a second—just one—his usual blank expression cracked.

There it was.

A barely-there smile.

Small. Subtle. But real.

It disappeared the moment you made eye contact.

He looked away with a mutter of, “He’s going to be insufferable about this for weeks.”

But he didn’t stop smiling. Not completely.

And when you turned back to Grandpa, still fussing over whether he needed tea or a cushion or someone to call his driver, Heeseung just watched you quietly.

With a look that wasn’t quite annoyance.

Not quite amusement.

Something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

—

Somehow, without quite meaning to, you’d been swept into the strange, chaotic current of the Lee family dynamic.

Jake had left hours ago—after giving you a dramatic, drawn-out farewell like he was being shipped off to war and not just heading back to his apartment. You’d waved him off, chuckling under your breath, unaware that the moment he was gone, you were being voluntarily held hostage by a rich, meddling grandfather and his emotionally-repressed grandson.

“I insist,” Grandpa Lee had said, gripping your hand like a man on a mission. “Come to dinner. We’ll order something good. I’ll show you pictures of baby Heeseung. You’ll love it.”

You had tried, really tried, to politely decline.

But the man begged.

Not gently. Not in passing.

He begged—with wide eyes and dramatic sighs and the kind of wounded expression only grandfathers and veteran actors could pull off.

You couldn’t say no.

You weren’t heartless.

Not even if he was filthy, stinking rich and had an estate large enough to qualify for its own postal code.

So now here you were.

Entering the Lee family home like you’d been there a thousand times, when in reality, you were still trying to figure out if this entire week was an elaborate fever dream.

“Careful now,” you said gently, your hand looped around Grandpa Lee’s arm as you helped him up the front steps. “We can go slowly, no rush at all.”

“Oh, you’re an angel,” he replied, letting you guide him toward the front door like you were escorting royalty. “You’re much gentler than my useless grandson. That boy leads me around like I’m made of bricks.”

You laughed softly. “Well, you’ve only got one pair of knees, sir. I intend to make sure you keep them.”

He chuckled, clearly pleased.

Behind you, Heeseung followed a few steps behind—quiet, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other holding the door open as he watched the two of you walk ahead like old companions.

He should’ve been annoyed.

His grandfather was clearly laying it on too thick, pushing boundaries, dragging you into family traditions you had no business being part of.

But instead…

Heeseung just watched.

You, glancing over your shoulder to flash him a smile that was too real for a fake girlfriend.

His grandfather, soaking up your attention like sunshine and already asking if you liked kimchi stew or preferred something mild for dinner.

And Heeseung?

He thought about how much he could get used to this.

—

The dining room table could seat twelve.

Twelve.

Twelve humans.

Maybe fourteen if two of them were toddlers and didn’t mind elbow contact.

You sat across from Heeseung, quietly chewing your food like a peasant at Versailles, trying not to let your eyes dart around the room every five seconds. But how could you not? The chandelier above you looked like it belonged in a royal ballroom. The dinnerware probably had a net worth higher than your student loans.

God, his house was huge.

You were ninety-nine percent sure there was an echo in the room. The soft jazz playing through hidden speakers? Offensively classy. You were half-expecting someone to walk out offering you a wine list in French.

The fanciest place you’d ever eaten was Cheesecake Factory. Once. And Jake had paid.

Meanwhile, here you were being served short ribs plated on imported porcelain while pretending to be the loving girlfriend of Lee Heeseung, Seoul’s most emotionally constipated tech prince.

Heeseung, for what it was worth, sat beside you with practiced ease—perfect posture, calm expression, cutting his food like it was being filmed for an etiquette manual. But every now and then, his eyes flicked toward you.

And lingered.

Just for a moment.

Grandpa Lee, of course, was in full host mode. Reclined at the head of the table, wine glass in hand, looking positively smug.

“So,” he said, pausing mid-chew, “how did the two of you meet?”

You stiffened.

Heeseung paused, fork in midair.

Oh no.

This was it.

The fake dating interrogation.

“Ah—” you began, immediately kicking Heeseung under the table for backup.

“She was…” Heeseung started slowly, eyes shifting toward you. “She was at a café.”

You nodded quickly. “Right! I was getting coffee.”

Heeseung added, “She spilled it.”

“On myself,” you confirmed, gesturing vaguely at your shirt like it still bore the evidence. “Scalding hot latte.”

Grandpa raised an eyebrow. “Romantic.”

You pressed on. “And he—Heeseung—offered me napkins.”

“Nine of them,” Heeseung said flatly.

You turned to him, surprised. “You remember the number?”

He blinked. “It was excessive.”

Grandpa watched the two of you like a cat watching goldfish. “And then?”

“And then we started talking,” you said quickly. “And he—um, he helped me order a replacement drink because I was too embarrassed to go back to the counter.”

Heeseung cleared his throat. “It was a weirdly long line.”

“But he waited,” you said, and then—before you could stop yourself—smiled a little. “He didn’t have to, but he did.”

There was a pause.

A beat longer than necessary.

Heeseung looked at you.

You looked at him.

And something about the way your smile lingered—soft, a little grateful—made his chest feel strangely warm. He swallowed.

You quickly turned back to Grandpa, cheeks hot.

“So, yes,” you said, stabbing your fork into your rice like you were sealing the story with a signature. “That’s how it happened.”

Grandpa sipped his wine, clearly amused. “Hmm.”

“You don’t believe us?” you asked, trying not to panic.

“I do,” he said easily. “Too many details. Real liars don’t share numbers. Nine napkins? That’s commitment.”

You nearly exhaled in relief.

Then, out of nowhere, Grandpa added, “And I saw the way he looked at you just now.”

You froze.

Heeseung did too.

The room went quiet.

“I’ve known that boy since he was born,” Grandpa said, setting his wine down with a quiet clink. “He doesn’t look at people like that.”

Your throat tightened. “Like what?”

“Like he forgot he’s supposed to be faking something.”

You blinked. Slowly.

Heeseung didn’t say anything. But you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the shift in the air beside you.

And then—suddenly, quietly—his hand brushed yours under the table.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to ground you. To say yeah, that wasn’t planned either.

You didn’t pull away.

And you didn’t speak.

But you felt it.

“Oh.”

The room had settled into a strange kind of stillness.

Not uncomfortable—just quiet. Like everyone was waiting for someone else to speak.

You kept your eyes down, gently prodding the last piece of rib on your plate, pretending your heart wasn’t doing tiny somersaults over the fact that Heeseung’s fingers had just brushed yours under the table.

Grandpa, of course, was not one to let silence win.

He set his glass down with a soft clink, leaned forward slightly, and said, with all the casualness of a man dropping a bomb:

“You know, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

Your fork paused mid-motion.

Heeseung visibly stiffened beside you.

You blinked up at Grandpa. “Like what?”

“So… attentive,” he said, as if that explained everything. “My grandson doesn’t just give away his jacket. That thing is practically stitched to his body. I've seen him wear it through a snowstorm. And yet, what do I find? Him curled up next to you, jacket draped over your legs like he’s your personal butler.”

You choked slightly on your rice.

“Grandpa,” Heeseung muttered, eyes narrowing.

But the older man wasn’t finished.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice,” Grandpa continued, pointing his chopsticks at Heeseung. “In the car—on the way back—you turned up the temperature. Just a notch. Quietly. Barely moved a muscle. But I saw you glance at her first. Just once.”

You flushed, your heart tripping over itself.

You had shivered once in the back seat, barely even noticing it yourself. But apparently… he had.

Grandpa leaned back in his chair, smiling like he had just solved a particularly satisfying mystery. “He’s never done that. Not for anyone. And let me tell you, this boy’s been around people his whole life—business deals, charity galas, matchmaking setups I’ve dragged him to. You name it.”

He turned to you, gentler now. “He’s polite, always. But attentive? No. Never. Not unless it’s something that matters to him.”

You blinked. Swallowed.

Across from you, Heeseung was uncharacteristically still.

His jaw was tense, eyes downcast, but something had shifted in his face—something softer, quieter. Like he was letting the words sink in too.

You didn’t say anything at first. You couldn’t.

The room had gone warm. Not from the heat. From the weight of what Grandpa had just said.

And what it meant.

You glanced at Heeseung.

He looked up, met your gaze.

And for the first time all night, neither of you needed to say anything at all.

—-

Dinner had ended… eventually.

The plates had been cleared, the wine glasses refilled twice, and Grandpa had officially shifted into storytelling mode—arms waving, voice animated, eyes twinkling with the kind of energy only decades of mischief could supply.

You hadn’t said much.

You just sat there, chin resting on your hands, smiling as you listened. And oh, the stories. Stories about little Heeseung—piano recitals gone wrong, failed lemonade stands, a brief but passionate phase where he thought he could become a magician.

You laughed. You giggled. At one point, your eyes welled up from how adorable it all was.

Across the table, Heeseung looked like he was deeply regretting ever being born.

“Was he always this serious?” you asked, voice light.

Grandpa barked a laugh. “Serious? That boy once cried for an hour because someone stepped on his sandcastle. Age twelve.”

Heeseung groaned. “Can we not—”

But it was already 11 p.m. by the time the laughter began to fade and your eyes started to droop. You stretched your arms with a yawn, blinking slowly.

“I should probably get going,” you murmured, rubbing at your eyes. “I’ve got an 8 a.m. lecture tomorrow and if I miss it, I’ll cry. Publicly.”

Heeseung stood from his seat automatically. “I’ll drive you.”

But before he could even reach for his keys, whack—Grandpa’s cane smacked lightly against his shin.

“Are you crazy?” Grandpa scoffed. “It’s almost midnight. Let her rest here. You have a perfectly good bed. And walls.”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy?”

Grandpa looked between the two of you like you were the ones being unreasonable. “Don’t tell me she’s never slept over here.”

Heeseung shot you a look that screamed don’t you dare.

You smiled tightly, heart racing. “Oh, plenty of times!”

Heeseung choked.

“Gosh,” you added with a nervous laugh, hands fluttering in the air, “this house… it’s practically my second home. I love this house. Love it. So homey. Very… echo-y.”

Grandpa raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but having way too much fun.

“So,” he said, voice dripping with casual menace, “you’ll be sleeping with Heeseung tonight?”

You blinked. “I—left my—”

“You’ll be sleeping with Seung tonight,” Grandpa repeated with a knowing smile, cane tapping the floor rhythmically. “Won’t you?”

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it.

Then looked at Heeseung, who looked exactly like someone who’d just swallowed a lemon.

You turned back to Grandpa with a grin so forced it should’ve come with a cramp.

“…Yes. Of course. That’s the plan.”

“Well then,” Grandpa beamed, clapping his hands once. “I’ll sleep soundly knowing my two lovebirds are safe and snuggled up. Goodnight, children.”

And just like that, he turned and shuffled down the hall, whistling.

You stood there in the silence that followed, staring down at your socks.

Heeseung exhaled deeply beside you.

“This is the worst lie I’ve ever committed to,” he muttered.

You peeked up at him.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just down the hallway. But the tips of his ears were red.

And yours?

Burning.

“…Where’s your room?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He finally met your gaze.

“Upstairs,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’ve got an extra pillow.”

—-

You weren’t sure what rich people did with this much space, but Heeseung’s en suite bathroom was bigger than your entire dorm room. Probably had better plumbing too. The water pressure? Heavenly. The heated floors? Life-changing. The mirror didn’t even fog. What kind of sorcery—

You stepped out wrapped in an oversized cloud of cotton.

His pyjamas—crisp, soft, and clearly designed for a man with longer legs and significantly broader shoulders—swallowed you whole. The shirt hung just past mid-thigh, brushing against your bare skin as you walked. The sleeves covered your hands. The collar was just slightly too wide, revealing the soft slope of your collarbone with every step.

You hadn’t bothered with pants. The top was long enough. Besides, who the hell was going to see?

...Right.

Heeseung.

You made a small sound as you fumbled with your hair tie, accidentally knocking over a bottle of something suspiciously expensive on his nightstand.

His head snapped up from his phone.

And everything in him—every rational, composed, deeply repressed cell—froze.

There you were.

Walking toward the bed like some kind of sleepy siren, his shirt hanging off your body like it had always belonged to you. Bare legs. Damp hair. That slightly flushed post-shower glow. He could see the delicate line of your throat when you tilted your head to fix your sleeves.

His breath hitched—sharply.

He looked away immediately, gaze darting back to his phone like it was on fire.

Nope.

Nope.

He was not going to think about how your thighs looked in the dim lighting. Or the fact that you were wearing his clothes. Or the way the fabric of that button-up swayed slightly as you walked.

He swallowed hard.

Cleared his throat.

You glanced over at him, half amused, half oblivious. “You good?”

“Fine,” he said too quickly. His voice cracked. Cracked.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounded like a dying bird.”

Heeseung coughed into his fist and sat up straighter, yanking the blanket slightly higher over his lap.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, eyes glued to his screen like he was researching stock reports and not silently begging the universe for strength.

You padded across the room, dropping onto the other side of the bed with a little bounce.

His bed.

You were in his bed.

Wearing his clothes.

With bare legs.

He stared at the ceiling.

You, stretching lazily, tucked the blanket around yourself. “These are really soft, by the way.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “They’re… cotton.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect.”

Your knee brushed against his under the covers.

He stopped breathing.

You didn’t notice.

But God help him—he noticed everything.

"Are you sure…" Heeseung’s voice cut through the quiet, just barely above a whisper. “You don’t mind sharing one bed tonight?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Not really. I’ve done this plenty of times with Jake when we go on trips.”

“Oh.” Heeseung blinked. Hard.

Jake. Right. Your other male roommate. The one you’d apparently shared beds with like it was no big deal. The same Jake who drank from the milk carton and sang in the shower and left hair ties in the microwave.

Cool. Casual.

Totally fine.

Except it wasn’t.

Not when you were currently climbing into his bed, his shirt hanging off your body like sin itself, the hem rising with every motion of your legs. Your thigh brushed the comforter as you moved, bare and soft under the dim bedside lamp, and Heeseung’s eyes locked on it like he’d been hypnotized.

You flopped down with a sigh, fingers raking through your damp hair. With a frustrated huff, you pushed up onto your knees and pulled your hair into a ponytail—arms raised, shirt rising even higher, revealing the smooth curve of your hip and a glimpse of skin that did unspeakable things to Heeseung’s already struggling self-control.

Something snapped.

He swallowed.

Hard.

“I—on second thought,” he said abruptly, voice tighter now, “maybe I’ll just… sleep on the couch.”

You whipped your head around. “What? Are you crazy?”

He was already half out of the bed, blanket in hand like he was escaping a wildfire.

“It’s fine. Really. You—you take the bed. I’ll just—”

You rolled your eyes. “Heeseung, it’s just one night. It’s not like we’re going to do anything crazy.”

“That’s not—”

“And besides,” you added casually, slipping under the covers like it was your own bed, “what if Grandpa comes in? Huh? What’ll he think when he sees one side empty? We’ll be exposed. Caught. Fired.”

Heeseung paused, blanket still clutched in his hand.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “He already thinks I call you Seung in my sleep.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“C’mon,” you said, patting the empty space beside you. “I’m not gonna bite.”

He looked at the bed.

Then at you.

Then at the ceiling like he was praying for strength.

And with a sigh—long, heavy, full of the emotional weight of a man who had just been sentenced to a trial by fire—he climbed back in.

Stiff as a board.

Tense as a wire.

And one wrong move away from completely combusting.

You, meanwhile, simply yawned. “Goodnight, Seung.”

His breath caught again.

“Sleep,” you mumbled, already drifting off. “Be normal…”

He stared at the ceiling.

He was definitely not sleeping tonight.

It had been ten minutes since Heeseung shut off his phone.

Ten minutes since the room went still, lit only by the faint glow of the city lights spilling through the tall windows. Ten minutes of lying there, staring into the dark like it might offer him a lifeline.

It didn’t.

Instead, he tossed. Then turned. Then flipped onto his back, onto his side, back again. Adjusted the blanket. Shifted the pillow. Anything to make it stop.

But nothing did.

Because you were beside him.

And you weren’t just beside him—you were curled into the covers wearing his shirt, skin bare beneath it, body warm, soft, close.

Every time you moved—every tiny adjustment, every sleepy twist—your thigh brushed against the back of his hand. Light. Innocent. Deadly.

And he was losing it.

Because your skin was smooth. Because you smelled like vanilla and his body wash. Because your breathing had gone slower, heavier, but not deep enough to say you were truly asleep. And because you’d been inches away from him for ten solid minutes, and he was almost certain the mattress had started shrinking just to screw with him.

His mind spiraled in every direction—don’t look, don’t touch, don’t think. Especially don’t think.

He swallowed hard, chest tightening when you shifted again, this time dragging your leg slightly against his, a friction that had no idea how dangerous it was.

“Can’t sleep?” your voice came through the dark, quiet. Soft. Laced with sleep.

Heeseung let out a slow breath. “No.”

Not when you’re wearing next to nothing in my bed. Not when you keep moving like that. Not when I can smell you.

He didn’t say it.

He just laid there, staring at the ceiling like it was his only ally in this war.

There was rustling beside him. Sheets moving.

And then—

You turned.

Faced him.

He could feel it—your presence shifting, your warmth moving closer. Then your face, just barely lit, settled near his. Inches. Maybe less. He turned his head and you were right there.

Your eyes found his.

And he couldn’t breathe.

“Why did you have to resort to fake dating?” you asked softly, voice low, barely a whisper. Like it was a secret meant only for this room. Only for him.

He blinked. The question registered—somewhere far away. But mostly he was focused on how close you were. How your breath skimmed his chin. How your lips were parted just enough, soft, tempting, completely unaware of the absolute chaos you were causing.

“What?” he managed, though it sounded hoarse.

You didn’t back away.

Your gaze stayed on his like you were still trying to figure him out. “Why’d you resort to this? Paying someone $500 to pretend they like you… must be—”

“Weird?” he said, lips twitching faintly.

You shook your head. “Exhausting.”

That word sat heavy between you.

He swallowed again, eyes flicking down—just for a second—to your mouth.

“I just…” he hesitated, jaw tensing, “I guess I don’t want Grandpa to be disappointed.”

Your features softened. He could see it—could feel the way your expression shifted, less teasing now, more understanding. More real.

You blinked slowly, and then, before he could even brace for it, your hand brushed against his under the covers. Light. Unintended. But it stayed.

Heeseung’s pulse jumped.

You didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

“I don’t think he’d ever be disappointed in you,” you said quietly, your voice gentler now.

And for a moment, neither of you spoke.

The space between you disappeared.

The tension changed—thicker, charged. Heeseung could feel it building in the air between your knees, your chests, your breath.

He didn’t touch you.

Didn’t dare.

But he wanted to.

God help him, he wanted to.

His hand lay there beneath the blanket, centimeters from yours. Still. Controlled. Every muscle in his body tense with the effort of not reaching. Not brushing his thumb across your knuckles. Not leaning forward just to see what your lips might feel like under his.

And then—quietly, like a sigh—he spoke.

“You’d be surprised.”

Your brow furrowed. “About what?”

He turned his head toward you, gaze meeting yours in the dark.

“About Grandpa,” he said, voice soft, almost like it wasn’t meant to be said aloud. “It seems like his whole mission is to make sure I’m happy, yeah. But I don’t think he knows how. So he fills in the blanks. Tries to fix things I don’t say out loud.”

You were quiet for a beat, processing that.

Then, “Are you kidding me? It seems like his entire life revolves around you. The way he talks about you, it’s like this life mission is to keep you happy.”

He let out a soft, dry laugh. “Happy or not alone?”

Your eyes searched his face, reading more in the curve of his lips than in the words themselves.

“In his defense,” you murmured, smiling just a little, “you can be kinda… aloof.”

He turned toward you slightly, one arm propped beneath his pillow. “Oh really?”

You nodded, suppressing a grin. “When I first met you, you said I was late.”

“You were late.”

“I was two minutes late.”

“And that’s still late.”

You huffed a laugh, leaning in just slightly, forehead nearly brushing his. “That’s not late. That’s margin-for-error-level arrival.”

“It’s a time commitment. If someone says 2:30, it means 2:30. Not 2:32. Not 2:31 and thirty seconds. 2:30.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” you whispered, eyes sparkling in the low light.

He smirked. “You’re the one fake-dating the weirdo.”

“Yeah, well,” you murmured, voice quieter now, “he’s growing on me.”

Heeseung blinked.

Just once.

And everything in him stilled.

You didn’t mean to say it. Or maybe you did. You weren’t sure anymore. But it was out there now, floating between your shared breaths, warm and weightless.

The silence returned—but this time, it wasn’t empty.

And neither of you moved.

But that space between your hands?

It got smaller.

And smaller.

Until your pinkies brushed.

And neither of you pulled away.

“I don’t have to… submit a request to kiss you, do I?” you whispered, your voice feather-light, but laced with something deeper—something that curled low in your belly and dared to rise.

Heeseung blinked, startled.

“What?”

“The contract,” you said, gaze flickering down to his mouth. “Clause Five. Physical contact?”

His expression twitched—something between amused and completely wrecked.

“You’re an idiot,” he murmured.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

Not hesitant. Not even close.

He surged forward, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your waist like he’d been holding back for hours—days—and couldn’t do it a second longer. His lips crashed into yours, hot and hungry, all restraint forgotten.

Your breath caught—then disappeared completely.

You kissed him back just as desperately, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt, yanking him impossibly closer. The warmth of his body pressed flush against yours, the heat rolling off him. His mouth moved over yours like he’d been waiting for this–firm, demanding, a little messy, a lot needy.

You gasped when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and he took the chance—deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your thighs clench, your entire body arch into him without thinking. Your hand fisted at the back of his neck, pulling, anchoring, grounding yourself as your mouths moved in perfect, aching sync.

His other hand slid under the hem of your—his—shirt, fingers splaying over your bare waist. His palm was warm, calloused, and when his thumb dragged slowly along the soft curve of your side, you shivered.

He pulled you until you were nearly straddling his thigh, your legs tangled with his under the sheets. His lips left yours just long enough to catch his breath, only to return to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You let out a noise—somewhere between a gasp and a sigh—and he cursed under his breath.

“I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind,” he whispered against your skin.

“You already are,” you panted, tugging him back in.

He kissed you again, harder this time. Like this had stopped being fake a long time ago and neither of you had realized it until now.

You felt his breath hitch, his hands still roaming your sides, reverent and aching and starved.

And in that dark, breathless tangle of limbs and mouths and months of built-up tension, one truth burned bright:

This wasn’t part of the contract.

This was real.

And you both knew it.

The moment your mouths found each other again, it shifted.

The desperation from before—hot and rushed—simmered into something deeper. Slower. More dangerous. Like you were both savoring what you already knew would ruin you.

His lips dragged over yours with purpose, tongue sweeping slow and teasing before pressing deeper, pulling a soft, wrecked sound from your throat that made him groan into the kiss.

He rolled slightly, his hand gripping your thigh, fingers slipping under the hem of your borrowed shirt—his shirt—his thumb brushing the bare skin there like it was something sacred. You gasped, the contact sparking fire under your skin.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered against your lips, forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, voice hoarse.

You barely managed to respond before he was kissing you again—slower this time, but no less intense.

Your own fingers slipped beneath his shirt, running along the firm lines of his stomach, the dip of his waist, the warm, smooth skin stretched over lean muscle.

You pressed closer, your legs tangling with his under the sheets, the soft brush of his sweats against your bare thigh igniting something primal. His hand found the curve of your ass, dragging you just that much closer as he kissed you deeper, harder.

The air grew heavier, your bodies slick with heat and friction.

And then he pulled back—barely—his lips kiss-swollen, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. His eyes were dark, wild, but searching yours with something softer beneath it all. Something that ached.

“This isn’t just the contract anymore, is it?” you whispered, voice cracking at the edges.

His thumb brushed along your jaw.

“No,” he said. “Not even close.”

—-

The sunlight poured in far too kindly for the chaos it was about to illuminate.

You stirred first, blinking blearily as your body slowly registered the warmth next to you. A solid chest. An arm draped loosely across your waist. A slow, even breath at the back of your neck.

And then it hit you.

You weren’t in your bed.

You were in his.

You were in Lee Heeseung’s bed.

And right—right—you remembered now.

Flashes of last night hit like a slow-burning montage.

His hand cradling your face. The way his voice cracked when he said it wasn’t fake. The way he kissed you like he meant it. Like you were something he'd been holding back from for far too long.

Then—heat. Teeth. Hands. Skin on skin.

And now?

You were naked.

Fully. Absolutely. No-fabric-in-sight kind of naked.

Your eyes snapped open.

You lifted the edge of the blanket and peeked underneath.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Shit.”

Your cheeks blazed as you slowly, carefully dropped the covers like they had personally offended you.

You had done it.

You had done did it with your fake boyfriend.

Who was also your fake boss.

Who was also—by technical definition—your employer.

Your CEO.

“Shit,” you muttered again, burying your face into the stupidly soft pillow.

Everything about last night replayed in agonizing, high-definition clarity.

And yet—beneath the panic, beneath the mild oh-my-god-I-slept-with-the-CEO breakdown—a softer, more terrifying feeling began to surface.

Because it hadn’t been just physical.

You remembered how he looked at you before it even began. How he touched you like you were something breakable. How, afterwards, he didn’t just roll over and sleep—he stayed close. Held you. Let his fingers run gently along your back like he didn’t want the moment to end.

And now you were awake.

Naked.

In his bed.

It was an HR violation with a side of deep emotional confusion.

Except you weren’t technically working for him. Not in that way.

You weren’t on his payroll, didn’t report to him, weren’t attending Monday meetings and yet… you were getting paid. By him. For relationship labor.

So what was this?

What was he to you?

You clutched the blanket to your chest, eyes wide, brain spiraling like a loading screen with no internet connection.

You were going insane. That was the only logical explanation.

And maybe—just maybe—your inner meltdown was loud enough to wake the man beside you.

Heeseung stirred beside you, letting out a soft groan. His arm stretched, his hair falling into his eyes as he rubbed at them groggily. Still half-asleep, he blinked blearily at you, then glanced around the room like he was buffering.

“…What time is it?” he muttered, voice still raspy from sleep.

You cleared your throat. “Uh. Eight.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Don’t you have a lecture?”

You clutched the blanket tighter. “It’s not like I can go now.”

“I can drive you—”

“It’s fine.” You looked away, heat crawling up your neck. “I’ll just ask Jungwon for notes.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Heeseung sat up straighter, blinking the last bits of sleep from his eyes.

His hair was adorably messy—tufts sticking out at odd angles, like he'd lost a round with the pillow. His voice, still husky and half-croaked, sharpened with sudden realization.

And then… his eyes dropped.

Just briefly.

A subtle glance under the blanket that covered both of you, then back up to you.

His entire face went red.

Not just a light flush. Red. Crimson. Full-body blush like he’d been slapped by the truth.

“Did we…” he asked, voice almost squeaking at the end.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

Then down at the blanket.

Then back at you again.

Your own cheeks heated in response, but you somehow managed to keep a straight face. “Heeseung.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I mean—like—did we actually…” he flailed, hand gesturing vaguely toward the bed, the room, your bare shoulders.

You raised a brow and slowly lifted the blanket just enough to peek.

Then dropped it.

“Unless I had a really intense dream and sleepwalked out of my underwear,” you said dryly, “yes. We did.”

Heeseung made a noise—something between a cough and a whimper—and dragged a hand down his already-flushed face.

“I swear I don’t usually do this,” he mumbled into his palm.

“Neither do I,” you muttered, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. “Believe it or not, this isn’t standard protocol in fake dating.”

“God,” he whispered.

Silence settled over the bed again. Awkward. Tangled in expensive sheets. Full of unsaid things.

Then, softly, almost shyly, he added, “Was it… okay?”

You turned your head slowly, raising one unimpressed brow. “Are you asking me for a Yelp review?”

Heeseung groaned and flopped back onto the mattress, pulling a pillow over his face.

You snorted. “For the record,” you said, staring at the ceiling again, “I’d give it a solid four and a half stars.”

He peeked out from under the pillow.

“Four and a half?”

“You lost half a star for the part where you knocked over the lamp.”

“You moaned my name when that happened!”

You rolled your eyes, biting down a grin. “Okay, then what about me?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Me, Heeseung.” You turned your head to face him fully, the blanket still tucked under your arms. “Did I… I mean, did I do fine? Because I haven’t really—”

Your voice trailed off awkwardly. Heat crawled up your neck. You tried to brush it off with a casual shrug. “I haven’t, like… done that in a while. At all. So if I was, like, bad or weird or made a weird noise or elbowed you in the ribs—”

Heeseung sat up, eyebrows raised, lips twitching like he was trying very hard not to look completely charmed.

“I don’t need to know about your ‘previous ones,’” he said, air-quoting with a soft laugh, “but I thought you were…”

He hesitated for a second. Like the compliment got stuck in his throat.

You raised an eyebrow. “You thought I was…?”

His eyes met yours—steadier now. 

“I thought you were beautiful,” he said simply.

—-

You didn’t have to tell Jake that something happened.

Son of a bitch knew.

Knew it before you said a word. Probably the second he walked into the apartment and caught you humming Levitating while making coffee with the dopiest smile known to mankind.

So now here he was.

Storming into Heeseung’s office with murder in his eyes and violence in his heart.

“Jake!” you yelled, already chasing after him in panic. “Jake, don’t—”

Too late.

The door slammed open.

Jake marched in like a one-man riot, fists clenched, breathing like he’d just sprinted through traffic—and made it his personal mission to ruin one (1) rich man’s entire day.

“You slept with my best friend?!” he roared.

Heeseung blinked from behind his desk. “…What?”

Jake didn’t wait. “You SLEPT with her?!”

Then he lunged.

Like physically lunged.

“Jake!” you shrieked, grabbing his arm, but he twisted out of your grip like some low-budget action movie star. “I swear I didn’t tell him! He figured it out on his own.”

Heeseung dodged just in time. “Dude! What the hell?!”

“You absolute bastard!” Jake shouted, winding up for Round Two.

“Can you not try to assault him?!”

“I’m not his employee anymore! I quit! I QUIT, baby!” Jake yelled, chest heaving as he pointed at Heeseung with a shaking hand. “Which means I can say whatever the hell I want and throw hands freely!”

Heeseung held up both palms. “I don’t even know what’s happening right now—”

“She was singing Dua Lipa, man.”

Heeseung paused. “…What?”

“LEVI-FUCKING-TATING.”

You groaned. “Jake, please don’t—”

“She only sings that damn song when something life-altering happens. Once after her ex situationship finally disappeared from the face of the Earth, and once when she found fifty bucks in a jean jacket she forgot she owned.”

“Okay, that second one was a really good day,” you muttered.

Jake spun dramatically, wild-eyed. “Exactly! So when I walk in and hear her humming the post-coital anthem of joy, don’t expect me to sit quietly and sip tea!”

“You drink cold brew,” Heeseung said numbly.

Jake turned on him. “Don’t you dare correct me right now, Lee! You think you can just—just—have sex with her like it’s nothing? Like she’s just one of your carefully-scheduled board meetings? Bro, this isn’t a calendar event. This is a human woman! She’s the love of my platonic life!”

“Jake, oh my god,” you groaned.

“She’s not some emotionally available guinea pig you can use to test whether or not you’re capable of affection! She is smart, and kind, and sings weird songs when she’s nervous, and loves shitty takeout dumplings! She is—” Jake choked on his own rage. “She is MY best friend. Yea, she can be irritating. A little annoying. Doesn’t use a coaster. Loud as hell—”

“Get to the point.”

He pointed at Heeseung again. “BUT if you hurt her, I will haunt you. Alive.”

“…Still don’t know what any of this means,” Heeseung muttered.

Jake didn’t even blink. “It means exactly what it sounds like.”

Then, softer, almost broken, “We want out. I don’t care if she doesn’t say it—I’m saying it. This arrangement? This fake dating thing? Over.”

You stared at him, guilt and panic knotting together in your stomach.

Jake took a breath. His voice cracked as he added, “You can’t just sleep with her and expect me not to beat your ass.”

He turned, ready to leave.

And muttered one last time under his breath:

“Levitating. Fuckin’ hell.”

Then walked out.

Slammed the door.

Left behind a room full of stunned silence and one emotionally derailed CEO.

Heeseung turned slowly to look at you.

“…You sing Levitating after sex?”

You groaned, face in your hands. “I’m never listening to Dua Lipa again.”

You and Heeseung exchanged a look.

Then together, without a word, you marched out of the office in search of one (1) dramatic, emotionally unstable Jake Sim. He hadn’t made it far—just outside the hallway, pacing and muttering to himself like he was trying to manifest a HR lawsuit.

You each grabbed an arm and yanked him back inside.

“Jake,�� you said sweetly, too sweetly. “Jake Sim. My baby. My sweet, sweet emotional support delinquent.”

Heeseung stiffened beside you, maybe a little jealous. “Not loving the pet names, but okay.”

You ignored him. “Look. Fine, yes, Heeseung and I… slept together…but—”

Jake immediately slapped his hands over his ears. “Lalalalala—I do not need to hear about something that repulsive before I’ve had my first fucking meal of the day.”

“Let me finish! Jake. JAKE!” you swatted at his hands, trying to pry them off. “Jake Sim, you son of a—get your hands off your ears, you dramatic toddler!”

The two of you spiraled into a flailing, full-body slap-fight. It was mostly ineffective but very loud. You were pulling, he was twisting, there was shouting, and all the while Heeseung stood there watching like a war correspondent reporting live from the world’s most undignified domestic disaster.

“YEAH!” you shouted suddenly, loud enough to shake the windows. “YEAH, WE FUCKED!”

Jake froze.

“I’M TALKING FUCKED SO GOOD—”

“EW! Get your musty, dusty, grimy little goblin fingers off me, you unhinged FREAK!” Jake hissed, fighting you off like a wild animal.

“Okay,” Heeseung said quietly in the background, looking one emotional outburst away from leaving the country.

The wrestling match raged on until—

“OKAY!” Heeseung snapped, louder this time.

You and Jake both froze mid-grapple, hands still locked like a pair of tangled action figures.

Heeseung ran a hand down his face, exhaling hard. Then, leveling his gaze at Jake, he said, “Yes. We slept together.”

Jake narrowed his eyes like a detective about to call bullshit, “I—”

“But I’m not playing with her,” Heeseung said. “Despite what you think, this isn’t a joke. This isn’t some fake PR stunt. And it sure as hell isn’t a game.”

Jake folded his arms, jaw tight. “And why the hell should I believe you? Huh, Mr. Contract Clause Five No Touching? Mr. Emotionally Constipated CEO? Mr. Fake Dating Lying Bitch—”

“You really gotta stop calling everyone ‘bitch’ in this office,” Heeseung muttered.

Jake didn’t blink. “Bitch.”

You sighed so hard your soul briefly left your body.

But then—Heeseung took a step forward.

Calmer now. Firmer.

“I’m serious,” he said, voice quieter this time. “I like her. A lot.”

Silence.

Complete. Deafening. Awkward silence.

Jake blinked.

You blinked.

Heeseung, for the first time in this entire conversation, looked… a little nervous.

“And I like her,” he said again. “As in—I want this to be real. If she’ll let it.”

Jake stared at him. Then looked at you.

You were too stunned to say anything.

Mouth slightly open.

Heart pounding like it was trying to escape your chest.

“You…” You swallowed. “You like me? Like you find me attractive kind of like me or is this a friendship kind of thing…”

Heeseung looked at you—really looked at you—like he had been holding that in for longer than he’d ever admit. His voice, when he spoke, was low and sure and a little wrecked.

“Well, you didn’t think I’d just do what I did with anyone, did you?”

Your face burned. “I just assumed—”

“That I was emotionally void?”

“...Kind of?”

He let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Fair.”

There was a pause. Not heavy. Not awkward. Just… full. Full of everything unsaid between the two of you. Full of five fake dates, one very real night, and every tiny glance in between.

He shifted a little closer, his tone softer now. Sincere.

“Look,” he said. “I know we haven’t known each other long. Barely a month, honestly. And maybe this wasn’t how either of us expected to start… anything. But if you’d let me—if you’re okay with it—I’d love to take you out.”

He smiled. Not the polished, press-ready one. A real one.

“For real this time.”

Before you could respond—

“Over my dead body!” Jake shrieked from the couch, hand dramatically raised like he was about to object in court.

You whipped your head around. “Jake Sim. I swear to God—” Your death glare could’ve ignited small fires.

Jake whimpered. Whimpered. And slowly sank back into the cushions like a chastised poodle.

You turned back to Heeseung, still breathless, still unsure if you were dreaming.

“So… we don’t have to lie anymore?” you asked. Voice small. Hopeful.

“This doesn’t have to be fake?”

Heeseung’s eyes were on you. Gentle. Steady. A little pink around the edges, like he was terrified you’d say no.

“No,” he said. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

You exhaled. Slowly. Fully. Like you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath for days.

“So…” you leaned in slightly, tilting your head with the faintest grin. “You mean I can kiss you… without submitting a formal request?”

Heeseung smirked. “Correct.”

“And touch you without sending an email for approval?”

“You never had to do that.”

“I was being respectful.”

“You licked the top of my bubble tea straw in front of my boardroom.”

Jake groaned from the couch. “I’m going to vomit.”

You ignored him.

“So,” you said again, brushing your hand against Heeseung’s. “If this is real now…”

He turned his palm up. Laced his fingers with yours.

“Then maybe,” he murmured, eyes on your lips, “you should kiss me. No email. No contract. No Jake screaming.”

You smiled, heart fluttering somewhere near your throat.

And then, without another word, you leaned in—and Heeseung met you halfway.

The kiss wasn’t soft this time.

It was a collision.

Weeks of tension, fake-flirting, lingering looks, and one very real night all combusting into one hungry, breath-stealing kiss. His hand cradled the back of your head, your fingers gripping onto the collar of his stupidly expensive shirt.

He deepened the kiss, your noses bumping, your breath catching, your entire body leaning into his like you were trying to erase every inch of space between you.

And then—

“Get me outta here.” Jake groaned loudly from the couch.

You broke apart, lips flushed, cheeks hot, both of you turning in perfect sync to glare at him.

Jake, as always, remained completely unfazed.

He sat up, stretched dramatically, then sauntered across the room, like he wasn’t the same person who just tried to commit CEO murder twenty minutes ago.

“So,” he said, clapping his hands together. “About the whole ‘I quit’ thing…”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow.

Jake smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, uh, I was kinda joking. Like. Performance art. Stress-induced drama. You get it.”

You crossed your arms. “You literally said ‘I want out, and I speak for both of us.’”

“Right, but I was speaking from a place of deep emotional instability.” He pointed at Heeseung. “So. Let’s all just call it even.”

Heeseung narrowed his eyes. “You screamed ‘bitch’ at me five times in a row.”

Jake held up a finger. “Technically three of those were about the situation, not you personally.”

You blinked. “Jake.”

Jake turned to you, smiling way too brightly. “I’m just saying—if I don’t get paid this week, I will marry a rich sugar daddy.”

You snorted. “Honestly? Kind of tempting.”

Jake pointed at you with full enthusiasm. “RIGHT? We could be a duo! I’ll make a spreadsheet. We’ll tag-team it—me and you, taking turns flirting with eligible old men at yacht clubs.”

Heeseung froze.

You blinked. “You made a spreadsheet?”

Jake nodded proudly. “I could make one that’s color-coded. We’ll have target age ranges, net worth minimums, and a calendar for shared sugar daddy rotations. If we get a two-for-one, I call dibs on the one with the villa in Capri.”

You tried so hard not to laugh.

Heeseung, meanwhile, was gripping his pen a little too tightly.

“Jake,” he said slowly, voice eerily calm. “You’re rehired.”

Jake blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes.” Heeseung didn’t even look up. “Starting now. With a strict office policy: no more saying the word ‘bitch’…”

Jake opened his mouth.

“…Or sugar daddy.”

Jake frowned. “Is this a personal rule or an HR rule?”

“Yes.”

Jake squinted at him, then grinned with evil glee. “Oh my God. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Heeseung said through clenched teeth.

Jake ignored him entirely, turning to you. “You think if I start dressing like you, I’ll get a CEO to kiss me on a rooftop?”

You smirked. “You gotta be more charming like me, dude”

Jake nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. I’d get too attached. I’m more of a ‘ruin your life in a week and leave behind a playlist’ kind of guy.”

Heeseung pinched the bridge of his nose.

Jake kept going. “Anyway, I’m free Thursday if you wanna start scouting sugar daddies in the CBD.”

“She’s not free Thursday,” Heeseung said flatly.

Jake blinked. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Heeseung looked right at him, then at you. “Because we have plans.”

You choked.

Jake grinned. “Oh, you’re so jealous.”

Heeseung leaned back, calm but dangerous. “And if you ever mention her dating anyone else again, you’ll be the first person I rehire just to fire.”

Jake raised both hands. “Damn. Okay. Y’all got real.”

He looked at you.

“You sure you don’t wanna keep sugar daddy scouting just in case this one implodes emotionally?”

You smiled sweetly. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Get out.”

“Right, right. Leaving.” He paused dramatically at the door. “But if you change your mind—Villa. Capri. Matching linens.”

The door shut behind him.

Silence.

You turned to Heeseung. “You know he’s gonna keep this over your head, right?”

Heeseung looked at you—then, with the softest smile, pulled you closer.

“As if you could find a better sugar daddy than me.”

part 1

[hello-car-fandom]

do it scared I IH6

pairing: bf! isack hadjar x reader word count: 1.2k tags: hurt and comfort, fluff, tiny tiny angst due to mc's insecurities, isack being the best boyfriend that he is in my head, badly translated french and mandarin, etc a/n: dedicated to @tsunodaradio. it seemed fitting that my first isack fic would be for you. hadjoints makes me happy but you make me happier <3

Isack was as dramatic as any Parisian could be. He would tell you every time that not every French was as over the top as you always say they were. The actual word is ‘expressive’. Thank you very much.

That's why you are shocked to the core when you said you wanted to break up and Shakespeare forgot to possess him like he always does. Isack froze for a second and then wanted to know where this came from.

“Was it anything I did, ma chérie ? Did I neglect you?”

He was patient and looked like he would wait until the Côte d'Albâtre was eroded away by the Atlantic Ocean. You didn't think you could bear to disappoint him by saying that it was because he is too cute. He felt too good to be true. So you mumble that it's a tiktok trend and walk away. 

………

The second time you told him that you wanted to break up was when you guys had the perfect day, the perfect date, and the perfect weather. You are laying down on his arm. his pulsing heart a companion to the blazing heat radiating from him. You snuggle into him as the cold wind nips at your neck even though there was no space between the two of you. Isack was mumbling like he always does and the cadence of his voice was getting lower with each passing sentence. It was the worst time to blurt out,

“I don't think this is working.”

Isack didn't even open his eyes to reply. “Ma moitié, I already told you I would request someone to fix our heating tomorrow. Do you want me to bring another blanket for us? C'est impossible to endure?”

There was a suspicious lump in your throat when you whispered, “I meant that I want to break up.”

He shifted until he had his arm across you and rubbed your arms. A puff of “We can talk about this tomorrow.” and he was out like a light. This conversation didn’t continue tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after next. Or in the next six months.

………

It picked up when you celebrated your second anniversary with a nice trip out to Shenzhen, China. You always wanted to walk the vibrant streets of Dafan Oil Painting Village. Isack always wants to give you anything your heart longed for.

Between inhaling your body weight in dimsum, giggling as you dared each other to try yā xīn, and the famous seafood dishes, you fell in love again with food and with Isack. This can't go on, you thought. How do I keep falling in love with him again and again? 

Final day of the trip was gently passing away with you glued to a painter mixing the most horrendous shade of blue and ending it with a finished painting that would have made Monet sell all his valuables to have it in his collection. Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you were able to get it for 465 yuan. Hoisting your new favourite piece of art under your arm with one hand, you pattered off to where Isack was losing badly to a game of chess. The grandpa playing against him was looking at him with such adoration that anyone would think your boyfriend saved him from certain death and was not just getting his arse kicked by an 80 year old man.

“Okay, I thought it over. I want to break up for real.” You declared as you came to a stop.

Both Isack and the grandpa looked up in unison. In a blink you found your hand stuffed with a 10 yuan. The older man was pointing at the board and said, “Měinǚ jiějiě, qù hē zhenzou nǎichá bā. Wǒ hái xiǎng zài wán yī jú. Méi xiǎngdào quán shìjiè dōu méi rén bǐ wǒ wán dé chà.”

Mandarin was not a language that any of you picked up. But food is a universal language and you knew ‘zhenzou nǎichá’ was boba milk tea. You figured that he wanted to play another round with the money being a bribe for you to let your boyfriend play. 

You look at Isack and he shrugged his shoulders in a way that only he does. “We are not breaking up and can you get me one with sugar.” 

Giving up was the best choice since you already accepted the bribe and Isack’s bullheadedness. “Fine. But you are only getting the basic one. Someone's favourite brown sugar one is for ex-boyfriends.”

You sashayed away thinking that you had the last word but a distant “I think current boyfriends deserve a grass jelly boba” shout had you walking a tad bit faster.

You got him his grass jelly drink. Full ice too because that boy had you wrapped around his finger and the both of you knew it.

………

“Enough.” Isack grumbled. “I will try to be a bad boyfriend.”

“Hm?” You look up from your cards. It was game night and both of you were sitting on the floor with elbows being pressed into the kotatsu you insisted was a necessary addition to the household. Isack had his arms across the chest. His eyes were boring into you. “I know what you are gonna say now. Mon chou, I want to break up. Our relationship is not working. No more of this. Please.” His tone got smaller until it fizzled out in the end.

Your brain short-circuited. “How did you know?”

“You always do this. We are having fun. The cheese pizza hit the spot AND you were winning all the games. It is the perfect vibe so I knew that you would try to run away. I am not letting you go without an actual reason. Spill. Why do you hate me the most when I show you the most love?” Isack's chest was heaving by the time he was done. It broke your heart to see him in distress. “I could never hate you.”

His breath hitched. You could see him relaxing his stance as a tension left his body. “What did I do wrong? Please tell me.”

You finally had to admit to him you were scared that this was the best memory you guys would ever have. That something this perfect couldn't be true. “Mon cœur, I think you are too good to be true too. And I can't help but scratch the itch of wanting to tear out the lies.”

Isack runs his hand through his hair as he starts pacing. “So you always want to give up on me without letting me have a chance to show you that this is real. Our love is real and it's here to stay.” He continues in a tight voice, “Do you not trust me?”

“You know I do. With my whole life.”

“But not with our relationship.”

“I-”

“Sorry.” Isack cuts you off. “That was cruel of me. Can you just promise to trust me a bit more when you are happy? Trust me to make you happier?”

After this, whenever you wanted to pack up and leave because this boy was making you experience another heart-wrenching, high-inducing level of contentment you never thought you would reach, you would simply press a kiss to his hair. Isack knew what it meant. He would hold you a bit tighter and that was enough.

Love was scary. Trusting someone to love you was scarier. But you would live life to the full while being frightened. For him.

[mahowaga]

your phone buzzes in your hands as you scroll mindlessly. you glance at the message preview for a second—just a message from a group chat, one of many—and go back to scrolling.

and that's when it happens.

out of nowhere, like some kind of smug white-haired hawk, gojo satoru swoops in and snatches your phone from your hands with a victorious, "aha!"

"satoru!" you shout, scrambling after him immediately.

but he's already halfway across the living room, standing triumphantly on the other side of the coffee table like he's just stolen the declaration of independence.

his grin is positively feral. "let's see what secrets you're hiding from me, hmm?"

you stare at him, completely unamused. "what are you, twelve?"

"emotionally? maybe," he chirps, flipping the phone around dramatically in his hands. "now then, what spicy stuff do we have in here? hidden chats? secret admirers? is your wallpaper still me wearing sunglasses over my blindfold?"

you cross your arms. "give. it. back."

he holds the phone up like it's an olympic torch. "nope. not until i confirm you're not part of some underground spy ring."

"i literally let you eat off my plate. why would i hide anything from you?"

"suspiciously defensive," he says, squinting at the screen and pretending to scroll even though he hasn't unlocked it yet. "what's your passcode again? your birthday? my birthday? the number of times i've been right in an argument?"

you glare. "try zero."

"ouch," he grins. "cold. but fair."

you plop onto the couch, arms still crossed. "are you done?"

"nope," he says cheerfully. "i'm fully committed to this investigation. as your incredibly handsome and slightly unhinged boyfriend, it is my duty to discover the truth."

"the truth is i'm dating a pest in gucci sunglasses."

he gasps, hand clutching his chest. "you take that back!"

"only if you give me my phone."

he considers this with an exaggerated hum, pacing back and forth like he's on the verge of solving a great mystery. "you know if you were hiding something, this is exactly how you'd act."

you throw a pillow at him. he dodges effortlessly. "i'm annoyed, not guilty!"

he finally stops pacing and stares at the screen. "wait. your passcode is literally my birthday?"

you groan and throw your hands in the air. "congratulations, detective gojo, you cracked the case."

he beams. "aww, you like me."

"i tolerate you."

he unlocked the phone with a smug flourish, only for his expression to immediately drop. "wait—there's nothing in here."

"wow," you deadpan. "shocking."

he stares at the screen, then looks at you. "your most recent text is you asking your friend if it's okay to put ten cloves of garlic in pasta."

"there is no such thing as too much garlic."

"i'm actually really disappointed in you. where's the scandal? where's the mystery man? the forbidden double life?"

you sigh and hold your hand out. "give me the phone, satoru."

he walks over slowly, dejected. "you're boring," he says, placing the phone back in your palm. "adorably, tragically boring."

"and you," you say, locking your phone again, "are never touching my phone again."

"oh, come on," he pouts, collapsing onto the couch beside you. "just one juicy secret? just one? i'll settle for a weird shopping history. you don't even have a secret pinterest board of wedding dresses."

you narrow your eyes at him. "that's because you already do."

"hey," he says defensively, "a man can dream!"

you shove him with your shoulder and he immediately drapes himself over you like a weighted blanket with chaotic energy.

"next time," you mutter, "i'm locking it with your middle name. good luck remembering which fake one you gave me."

satoru's laugh is muffled against your shoulder. and despite everything, you can't help but smile.

because satoru, with all his pranks and dramatics, still ends up exactly where he always does—right next to you, grinning like an idiot, with no secrets between you.

just you, him, and the comforting knowledge that the most scandalous thing in your phone is a saved photo of him sleeping with a mouthful of marshmallows.

[ssahotchnerr]

baby fever - aaron hotchner x reader

request: Hi! I love the whole married trope with hotch AND I HAD AN EPIPHANY! I can just imagine reader and Aaron being married for a few months before JJ gives birth again and Aaron gets baby fever 😭 Like he would start hinting at wanting another baby and would eventually ask you everyday for a baby

reposting because i accidentally deleted the original :( cw; fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, some suggestiveness, fluff and aaron being soo ❤️‍🔥🥰

It was finally your turn to hold Michael.

You've been patiently waiting all night, Aaron could practically feel the anticipation radiating off you. It took a while, as he had plenty of other aunts and uncles. And much to your credit, you managed to resist the urge to hover too closely to whoever was holding him at the moment.

You were sat comfortably on the couch with Jack nestled right beside you, his small body pressed close with barely an inch to spare.

From where he was discretely observing across the room, Aaron couldn’t quite make out the words you were saying. However, he noticed the way your voice softened, your head soon tilting in an encouraging nod.

Jack, with a look of quiet concentration, gently offered a finger to Michael. Without hesitation his tiny hand clasped onto it, and Jack’s face pulled into one of content, his eyes in awe at the connection.

Aaron's mind beelined in one direction at the sight, and his heart produced an extreme sense of deja vu; the same thrilling feeling and unfathomable love when Jack was born.

This, but with a baby of your own.

For months now, he's hinted at wanting another baby. It started with him sharing updates on JJ's pregnancy (which contributed to his want as a whole). It then led into him mentioning if you had a baby now, the age gap between the little one and Jack would be perfect. He brought up potential baby names, 'Eleanor would be a cute name for a girl, don't you think?' He even told you once out of the blue he was researching car seats, to ensure you had the safest one when the time came.

Until finally he just straight up asked you, Can we have a baby? and while you wholeheartedly shared the enthusiasm and wanted one as badly as he did, it got put on the back burner. Between both your jobs and the natural busyness of life, the timing was never right.

But now, the urge was too strong to continue to let simmer.

A while later, you were traveling down the hallway - looking for him actually - when Aaron found your hand out of nowhere, swiftly tugging you into the bathroom hidden away from everyone else. The door snapped shut behind you.

"There you are. I was just-"

He interrupted you with a kiss. An eager, as if his life depended on it type of kiss. His hands found the small of your back, pulling your body against his. It got heated rather quickly, your shared passion intertwining together.

Eventually you let out a soft laugh against his lips, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "What was that for?"

"I was thinking," You nodded, urging him to continue. Aaron's brown eyes were locked onto yours, a quiet intensity within them that was also the gentlest you've ever seen. "A lot, you know. And I think we should try for a baby."

Your eyes widened, "Now?"

"No, not now," Aaron laughed which you shared, his gaze shooting to the door momentarily, where the muffled voices of the team drifted from outside. "But yeah... now. I think the time's right. We've been married a while, work is slowing down," He paused for a moment, almost humorously, "As much as it can. But sweetheart, and if you're on board that is, I don't think I can wait any longer."

A baby. A new chapter. Growing your family - your heart fluttered at the thought. And in Aaron's face, you saw certainty, longing, excitement.

"And can you imagine?" His hands grabbed yours, "A baby who's the perfect combination of me and you. My dark eyebrows furrowing across their tiny forehead. A baby with your eyes and heart. Jack as a big brother. Can you think of anything more perfect?"

An obvious gleam was present in your eyes, the ends of your lips raising in a relaxed smile. You didn't need convincing, "Okay."

Aaron fell silent for a moment, as if he expected to do some convincing, despite the knowledge of your want being no different than his.

"Really?" He asked, his voice soft but laced with an earnestness that made your heart melt.

You grinned, pressing your lips against his in a kiss. He attempted to deepen it, to prolong it again, but you had forced yourself away. "You're right, I can't imagine anything more perfect. I want as many babies as we can possibly handle, as soon as possible. But I just know, she'll have your eyes. I'm sure of it."

"So we're trying." His smile took on a newfound charm, one both  playful and irresistibly endearing. Also, a bit on the smirky side, as the task to create a baby was certainly enjoyable.

"We're trying." You confirmed with a small smirk of your own, kissing him once more. Your hands traveled up his chest, to his shoulders, and back around, savoring the feeling of him.

Aaron sighed out against your mouth, hot and heavily. "Think we could persuade anyone to watch Jack tonight? So we can get started?"

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 2846

You can read part 2 here, part 3 here and part 4 here.

But close ain't close enough 'Till we cross the line So name a game to play And I'll roll the dice, hey

You and Lando Norris had a problem with each other. There was no denying it. Something about the other person made your skin prickle with irritation, like an itch you couldn't scratch.

You were a Monegasque kindergarten teacher, a job that suited you perfectly. You adored kids. Their joy and innocence made your life simpler.

Monaco had always been your sanctuary: peaceful, elegant, yours. But that changed the moment Lando moved in next door a few years back.

You got along with everyone. It was just who you were. Friendly, patient, easygoing. But him? He was the exception. Loud, cocky, and an absolute menace of a neighbor. Even if he spent most of the year traveling, when he was home, he made sure you knew. The roaring engines, the late-night laughter, the endless stream of people coming and going. It was chaos wrapped in luxury.

He could've lived anywhere. He had the money. But somehow, out of all the places in Monaco, he chose your building.

"I guess Lando's back?" Your sister said, raising an eyebrow as loud music blasted from the apartment next door.

You let out a deep sigh, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary. "He's been back for a while… unfortunately."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Let me guess, he did something already?"

"Oh, just parked in my spot today. Again." You shot her an exasperated look before slamming the knife against the cutting board. "Someday I'll kill him. I swear."

She chuckled. "Maybe he's running out of places to park his collection."

"I don't care!" You huffed. "He's a billionaire, he can buy a garage. Or better yet, move to a bigger place and stop being my problem."

"You know he does all of this just to piss you off, right?" Your sister said as she sat at the dining table, watching you set down the salad. "You should just ignore him."

"I know!" You groaned, sinking into the chair across from her. "But I can't. He's impossible to ignore. He knows exactly how to push my buttons."

Lando and Max were deep into a racing simulator session, music blasting through the apartment as they waited for their food to be ready.

It was Max's turn on the sim, but the pounding music was messing with his concentration. "Dude, the music... turn it down." He grumbled, eyes locked on the screen.

Lando barely glanced up from his phone. "Why?"

"Because I can't focus! It's too damn loud." Max tried to keep his attention on the race. "Someone's going to complaine about the noise." Then a thought struck him. He paused the race and shot Lando a knowing look. "Wait a second… You want this, don't you?"

Lando shrugged. "No idea what you're talking about."

Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You're trying to piss her off. You want her to came here. That's why the music's so loud. What's your problem with her?"

Lando smirked, eyes flicking back to his phone. "It's fun watching her all worked up."

Max shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. "You know, she's actually really nice."

Lando snorted. "To you and everyone else. Not to me."

"Yeah, because you're an asshole."

Lando finally dropped his phone onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. "She's been like that since day one. She started it."

"And instead of finding out why, you just decided to make things worse." Max said, shaking his head. "Classic you!"

Before Lando could fire back, a knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

His smirk widened. "Told you, she can't stay away." He pushed up from his seat, heading for the door.

Max groaned, calling after him, "Dude, be nice, please!"

You bit your nails, pacing as you waited for Lando to answer his door. Normally, you were a calm and patient person. But Lando Norris had a talent for bringing out the absolute worst in you. And the worst part? He enjoyed it. You knew he did.

Inside your apartment you heard the door finally open.

"Hi!" Your sister's voice rang out, soft and sweet, just like she always was. Unlike you, she had never raised her voice in frustration, not even to assholes like Lando.

"Oh, hi!" Lando's voice dripped with warmth, and you immediately rolled your eyes. Of course, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to.

"Sorry to bother you…"

"No problem!" He said. You nearly gagged.

"Could you turn the music down a little?" Your sister asked politely.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, I didn't even realize it was that loud. Really, I'm so sorry."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor.

You had stood at his door countless times, asking the same thing, and every single time, he would gave you a cocky remark, or worst of all, he'd turned the music up louder just to spite you. But with your sister? He was suddenly the picture of politeness.

You were seconds away from storming out of your apartment to tell him exactly what you thought of his two-faced behavior, but your sister's voice stopped you.

"I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Lando replied smoothly. You let out a deep breath, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. Your sister had just started pushing the door open when Lando added: "Oh, and say hi to your sister for me."

That was it. You clenched your fists, shoving past your sister, ready to wipe that smug grin off his face, but before you could get a single word out, his door clicked shut.

"I hate him so much."

From the other side of the door, Lando grinned like an idiot, watching you through the peephole as you stomped away in frustration.

"There's just something special about pissing her off." He mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Max, standing behind him with his arms crossed, let out a sigh. "You're an idiot."

Two days had passed since your sister left for Rome, where she lived with her boyfriend. You were alone again, not that it bothered you. Your parents still lived in Monaco, in the house you grew up in, and you saw them almost every day.

One of the things you loved most about Monaco was being so close to the ocean. Every morning, as soon as you opened your bedroom window, you would close your eyes and breathe it in—the salty air, the gentle breeze, the familiar scent that made you feel at home. It was the perfect way to start the day, making your morning run that much easier.

Like always, before heading to work, you laced up your shoes and stepped outside. Today was no exception.

You had been running for a while, sweat clinging to your skin as your breath fell into a steady rhythm. The music playing softly in your ears didn't drown out the sounds of the city.

Lost in thought, you instinctively turned toward your building, crossing the road without a second glance.

The loud sound of tires screeching against the asphalt snapped you out of your trance. A rush of air whooshed past as a sleek car came to a sudden stop just inches from you. Your heart leaped into your throat, your body reacting before your mind caught up. You stumbled back and before you could stop yourself, you were on the ground.

The driver's side door swung open, and before you even looked up, you knew exactly who it was.

Lando stepped out, his expression a mix of worry and frustration, but before he could speak, you were already pushing yourself to your feet, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

"Are you insane?" You snapped, ripping your airpods out. "You almost ran me over!"

His brows shot up. "Me? You're the one who ran straight into the road without looking!"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the truth of his words sank in. Still, there was no way you were letting him win this. "Maybe if you weren't driving like a lunatic--"

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Driving like a lunatic? I was literally pulling out of the garage."

You huffed, brushing the dirt off your leggings. "What if it was a kid crossing instead of me?"

"Then I would've stopped, just like I did now." He shot back. "But you... You didn't even look before stepping onto the road! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wouldn't have to worry about being flattened by my obnoxious neighbor before eight in the morning!"

Lando shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're unbelievable."

"You're infuriating."

"You're dramatic."

"You're--"

"Y/n?" A new voice cut through the tension, making both of you turn. Standing a few feet away was your kindergarten director. Dressed in his usual grey suit, he raised an eyebrow at the two of you. "Is everything alright?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this must have looked, standing in the middle of the street, flustered, sweaty, and arguing with a F1 driver.

"Yes, everything's fine!" You said quickly, forcing a polite smile.

Monsieur Bernard nodded, then glanced at Lando. "I didn't realize you knew such a famous driver, Y/n!" He stretched his hand and Lando shook it.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "We're just neighbors."

Lando grinned. "Very close neighbors."

You shot him a glare, but before you could say anything, Monsieur Bernard continued. "You know, our little ones love racing. It would be wonderful if you could visit the school sometime, talk to the kids about it."

"Oh!" You forced a polite chuckle. "I'm sure Lando is far too busy. I wouldn't want to take up his time."

Lando, to your absolute horror, shrugged. "Actually, I think it's a great idea." You snapped your head toward him, eyes wide. "Yeah, why not? I've got some time before the season starts again. I'd love to come by."

Monsieur Bernard smiled. "That's wonderful! Y/n, can you please set everything up?" You smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Norris. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise." As Monsieur Bernard walked away, you groaned, rubbing your temples. Lando chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "See? I can be a good neighbor."

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel toward your building. "I hope the kids throw paint at you."

Lando chuckled, watching you storm off, clearly frustrated with how the day had started. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary and not even he could deny that your ass looked good on those leggings.

"Stop it, Lando!" He muttered to himself, shaking his head as if it would physically shake the thoughts away. "Don't go there."

With a deep breath, he slid back into his car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Without another glance at the building, he drove off.

You lay in bed, scrolling through your phone, hoping to lull yourself to sleep. The soft glow of the screen was the only light in the room, your thumb moving lazily over the screen, until something in your feed made you pause.

Your eyes narrowed as you clicked on the reel. A fan edit of your annoying neighbor filled your screen, all set to a song that did nothing to make him look innocent. Quite the opposite.

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes locked on the video as if trapped in some kind of trance. The way he carried himself, the confidence, the effortless charm-- No. Absolutely not.

The reel restarted, snapping you out of whatever trance had just taken over you. With a horrified gasp, you jolted upright, tossing your phone onto the bed like it had burned you.

"Ugh-- no. What the hell?" You threw a pillow at your phone, like the device was alive. "Even on my phone?" You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This man was infiltrating every corner of your life. And you hated it.

The day had arrived.

The kids had been buzzing with excitement all week, their energy doubling ever since they learned that Lando Norris was coming to visit. It didn't matter that half of them were too young to understand F1, but the mere idea of someone fast and famous coming to their school had them bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, were bracing yourself for chaos.

You had done your best to keep the kids calm, but by the time the morning rolled around, they were practically vibrating with anticipation. What car does he drive? Will he let us race? Can he do drive in the playground?

And then, Lando arrived. Dressed in his McLaren clothes, sunglasses and wearing that signature smile.

The kids lost their minds. "Landoooooo!" The group rushed toward him, bombarding him with questions before he could even say a word.

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time!" Lando laughed, crouching down to be at their level.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching as he handled the chaos with surprising ease.

"Can you drive faster than Batman?"

"Can we race you?"

"Do you get scared when you go super fast?"

Lando hesitated for a second, then grinned. "Sometimes! But that's what makes it exciting."

You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn't deny that the kids adored him. They hung onto their seats, eyes wide with fascination as he described what it felt like to race at over 300 km/h, how he trained, and even how he sometimes got nervous before big races.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, you realized that Lando was actually good at this. He had their full attention, something you usually had to work twice as hard for.

And then, as if sensing your thoughts, he caught your eye from across the room and winked, making you gag.

Unfortunately for Lando, someone else caught the moment.

A little girl sitting nearby tilted her head curiously, her big eyes flicking between the two of you. "Is Miss Y/n your girlfriend?" She asked innocently.

Lando, who had just taken a sip of water, immediately started coughing. He nearly choked, hand flying to his chest as he struggled to recover. "What?"

You, on the other hand, wanted the earth to swallow you whole. The rest of the kids, now very interested, turned toward you both with excited expressions.

"Is that why you're here?" Another girl asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Do you live together?" A boy asked before Lando could even recover from the first question.

Lando, still slightly choking, looked horrified.

"Nope!" You cut in quickly, clapping your hands together in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation. "Who wants to show Lando their artwork?"

A chorus of Me! Me! Me! erupted, and just like that, the kids forgot all about their matchmaking attempts, eagerly rushing to grab their drawings.

You let out a slow breath, glancing at Lando, who was still lightly hitting his chest.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked, his voice still uneven.

You crossing your arms. "They're kids, Lando! If you wink at their teacher, this is what you get."

"A vision of a nightmare?"

You shot him a glare. "Asshole!"

He smirked. "Such a dirty mouth for a kindergarten teacher."

Your jaw clenched. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as sweet as honey. "And yet, still more mature than a F1 driver."

Lando grinned, leaning in just a little. "Debatable."

Before you could walk away from Lando, chaos erupted.

"Me first!"

"No, me!"

Two of the kids appeared out of nowhere, each clutching their artwork, too focused on their battle to notice where they were going. Straight into you.

You barely had time to react before they crashed into your legs, making you lose balance.

"Oh--"

Lando was sat in a chair right in front of you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell right into him.

His hands instinctively came up to catch you, but it was too late. Your lips brushed against his. It was barely a touch, but enough to make the world stop.

The kids were still yelling, the classroom still buzzing with energy, completely unaware of what had just happened, but all you could register was the way your lips were still touching.

You quickly pulled back, eyes wide, heart racing. Lando blinked up at you, looking just as stunned, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

You straightened, feeling warmth creeping up your neck,

"This is my drawing." One of the kids said, tugging at Lando's sleeve. "It's a boat and this is my dad."

That snapped Lando out of it. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. "Wow, that's amazing! You're so talented."

You turned away quickly, your pulse still hammering as you focused on the children, pretending like nothing had happened.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, still looking anywhere but at you.

For once, there were no smirks, no teasing, just the feeling that something between you had just shifted.

[perpetuallyfive]

I know the "why are you a child" stuff is at least partially played for laughs, but this week something else struck me while watching Miss Huang interact with Seth Milchick. There have been a lot of really insightful posts going around about Milchick and his position at the company as a black man. Obviously we saw how he was the one to clean up every single mess under Cobel, but even now in his new position of authority he is still tasked with essentially the same duties, only more.

And it occurred to me that the board who views him in this way might subconsciously — or perhaps even consciously — think that the only assistant you could give a black man and still have him viewed as a figure with any authority is if he is standing next to an actual child. He is left to do so much of the assistant work because they have left him with an assistant incapable of doing that work. Miss Huang isn't going to ride a motorcycle all across the city to get shit done. Milchick has to do it.

Even in power, he is slighted again and again, and we can see clearly how much of that is by design. If he is made to feel powerless and constantly in peril, then surely there's no way he would align himself with the innies that are the only beings the company actually thinks are less than he is.

I really can't wait until Seth reaches the point where he wants to break shit.

[kxsagi]

Hello hello! I'm the menace who sent the sae x Shidou!reader req a while back! 😈

Part two pls but this time Shidou!reader got hired as bllk manager 👀 oh dear how will the bllk guys react with this menace lock in the same facility as them. Also also sae being grumpy that he has to get his dose of gf only through the bltv lmao

“𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫”

a/n: LMAO I LOVE THIS ENERGY

“who the hell hired that?” 

“you mean the gremlin doing cartwheels across the field at 6 AM?” 

“the one who challenged shidou to a headbutting contest and won?” 

“the one who tried to pants kaiser during his interview?” 

ego turns from the control room with the slow, empty gaze of a man who has seen things. “yes.” 

you, the newest blue lock manager and certified agent of chaos, stretch on the turf like a track star hyped up on energy drinks and poor life choices. 

“ALRIGHT, LOSERS!” you grin, twirling a clipboard like a baton. “i’ve been hired to manage you psychos into proper, functioning humans! we’re gonna clean! we’re gonna hydrate! we’re gonna team build until someone snaps!” 

bachira is already on board. “do we get to play dodgeball with fireballs?” 

“hell yeah, fire safety is for cowards!” 

rin looks ready to walk into traffic. kaiser’s trauma has been reactivated. karasu actually claps. “finally, someone with vision.” 

“if you touch my ass again, i will kill you,” kaiser mutters, inching away. 

you grin. “no promises, blondie.” 

cut to blue lock TV, aka BLTV, where the nation watches weekly updates of japan’s hottest soccer chaos factory. 

currently, the screen displays you standing on a bench, yelling through a megaphone: “WHOEVER STOLE MY PINK GATORADE, YOU HAVE 10 MINUTES TO RETURN IT OR I’M HIDING SARDINES IN YOUR SHIN GUARDS.” 

in madrid, sae itoshi is slouched on the couch, jaw clenched, remote in a death grip. 

“... i miss her,” he mutters like a war widow. 

his teammates glance over. 

“you mean your girlfriend who just tried to fight don lorenzo for doing pushups in her ‘zone’?” 

“she’s not even looking at the camera,” sae hisses. “i can’t even get eye contact. all i get is BLTV crumbs.” 

on the screen, you lock eyes with the nearest camera, smirk, and blow a kiss. 

“that one was for my sexy red-haired husband in madrid,” you say cheerfully before throwing a shoe at isagi. 

sae flinches like he got hit. “she’s so hot. gosh, i hate this.” 

back at blue lock, shidou tries to bite you again. 

“do it and i’m putting you on litter box duty.” 

“worth it,” he purrs. 

rin has locked himself in the weight room. reo and nagi are betting on who cries first this week. niko follows you around like a confused duckling. yukimiya offered you tea once and you barked at him. 

“who needs therapy when you can just... be her?” reo whispers. 

somewhere in the chaos, ego watches it all unfold and sighs. “perfect. just what blue lock needed.” 

a menace to tame the menaces. 

but sae, grumpily watching from afar, whispers into his phone: “just wait. i’m pulling up next week and taking you home. permanently.” 

he pauses as you get tackled by a squad of blue lock players mid-game and cackle like a villain. 

“… or i’ll just join the madness.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[taeghi]

your little brother, my little secret | teaser

FULL RELEASE : READ HERE

yn and joy share every secret, until yn returns from university to find joy's little brother jake has become irresistibly hot. maybe keeping just one secret from your best friend won't hurt… right?

PAIRING : best friends little brother!jake x reader

GENRE : smut & angst. jake's (shy) a sub for majority of it. dirty talk, masturbation, degrading + humiliation, & y/n is a menace.

WC : 14k

TAGLIST : ????? (if ur on my perm taglist u dont need to comment) <3

mdni

you’ve been counting down the days until summer for what feels like forever. you’re returning to your hometown for the entire two months you have until university starts again in september. 

you’ve been driving for miles now, just having to go to a university two hours away from your small hometown. but the summer air is thick and humid, and it blows throughout the car as all the windows are down. 

your best friend, joy, sits beside you. you’ve known her for just as long as she has moved into your small town when you both were ten. since then, you’ve shared everything together; every laugh, every tear… every secret. her family feels like your own, summers spent in their backyard, evenings filled with board games and cards. some nights in high school even included sneaking out to a party and drinking until you thought you’d throw up. 

last summer was different. you were abroad doing an internship for university. and you didn’t get a chance to stay long during christmas break. so, it’s been a while since you’ve actually stayed in your hometown with all its familiarities. 

“jake will be home when we get there,” joy says, loud enough to be heard over the wind and faint music. 

“oh right, how’s he liking university?” 

jake is joy’s little brother. he’s always been shy, introverted, prefers to stay home and play video games instead of going out like you and joy. you remember him as a cute kid, all wide eyed and shy smiles. you don’t remember him having much friends, he’d rather be alone in his room. it’s hard for you to imagine him navigating the crowded university, but you suppose he’s all grown up now. it’s been so long since you’ve seen him, and the thought of how much he changed lingers in your mind. 

“he likes it,” joy says, her long black hair blowing out the window, “he’s excited for summer like we are.” 

you nodded in response, thinking maybe jake would go out with you guys now instead of playing video games in his room all summer. 

“we gotta go to hyunjin’s this week!” joy declares, her eyes lighting with anticipation, “you know he’s throwing a big party this week. and then, there’s that new bar that opened downtown. we have to check it out!” 

you agree with joy. her energy is infectious despite her brash (sometimes too brash) exterior. joy has always been more straightforward and perhaps blunt than you are. when sometimes you can be a people pleaser and a pushover, joy is there to say the words you wish you could say. 

“i can’t wait,” you reply, “it’s been too long since we’ve had a proper night out.” 

joy shoots you a mischievous grin, her confidence unwavering, “oh trust me, yn. this summer, we’re going all out.” 

you roll your eyes at your pretty best friend, pulling into her family’s driveway swiftly. 

you and joy step through the front door of the house, a place that is more familiar and comforting than your own. the place smells like a home cooked meal and you are instantly greeted with joy’s parents’ smiles. joy’s mother envelops you in a hug, her warmth and kindness instantly easing any fatigue from the long drive. 

"oh, yn, joy, it's so good to see you both!" joy's mother exclaims, her smile radiant. "dinner will be ready shortly. you must be exhausted after the drive. please, sit down in the living room and relax."

joy's father joins in, his jovial voice filling the room. "how was the trip? traffic wasn't too bad, i hope?" her parents' genuine concern and hospitality are a stark contrast to your own parents. 

"it was fine, dad," joy replies, her tone affectionate yet tinged with a hint of impatience. "we're just glad to be home for the summer."

you smile over your shoulder at her parents as she drags you to the living room. it looks the same as you remember it; comfy fabric couch, family photos on the walls, lit candles around the room that mix with the smell of dinner. 

joy props her feet up on the coffee table as she starts to scroll her phone. a nonchalant smile plays on her lips, “can’t believe we’re back here.” she says with a sigh.

before you can respond, a sudden noise draws your attention towards the backdoor. two figures emerge, their arms swaying as they laugh and push each other. 

“hey guys,” joy's casual greeting halts their antics momentarily, but it's the sight of you on the couch that freezes one of the boys in his tracks. he stands there, awkward and unsure.

the other boy remains cool and confident as he greets joy and walks over to you both on the couch. he stands in front of you, sticking his hand out in front of your face, “i’m heeseung.” 

you look up at him as he stands, his features are chiseled. his eyes are a deep shade of brown. his smile is almost cocky, but disarming as he flashes it effortlessly. there’s an aura of assurance about him, that he knows he’s good looking and he’s confident about it. 

your hand meets his, “i’m y/n.” your eyes flicker back to the boy who remains rooted to the spot, his expression unreadable as he almost quiets away into the wall. 

“are you gonna come hug your sister, jake?” joy squeaks from beside you, she octaves her voice higher to be annoying on purpose. 

it’s then that you realize who is standing there in the corner– you almost didn’t recognize him. 

the shy, nerdy kid you once knew is now standing before– transformed in a way that catches you off guard. where once stood a lanky teenager, now stands a man that is toned and tanned. his hair is longer and tousled in a way that accentuates his features. he’s taller and broader. 

as you take in his appearance, you can’t help but be struck by how insanely hot he has become. 

he shifts nervously, perhaps sensing your gaze. his eyes turn to joy, “no way in hell am i hugging you.” 

joy's mother breezes into the room with a warm smile, "oh jake, give your sister a hug."

joy springs up instantly, tackling jake in a bear hug that's both affectionate and overly enthusiastic. jake groans, awkwardly patting joy's back as everyone chuckles. heeseung, settles down next to you, a confident smirk playing on his lips, his eyes holding a hint of nothing other than flirtatious. 

"right, yn," joy's mother continues, her tone gentle yet teasing, "heeseung here has been keeping jake entertained since you left."

heeseung chimes in, his voice dripping with sarcasm and humor. "yeah, we're inseparable now," he says with a grin.

you laugh, unable to resist teasing. "oh really? i remember jake having no friends at all."

joy joins in, her laughter ringing through the room. "seriously, all he did was stay in his room playing video games."

"be nice, girls," she says playfully. "joy, come help me with dinner. set up a place for heeseung, too."

heeseung stands up with a mock bow. "don't worry, i'll set up my own place."

joy groans at having to help, leaving you and jake alone in the living room, complaining about why she has to help but jake doesn’t. 

jake settles into the chair directly across you, but his body language shows he’s tense and restless and it suggests that he’d rather be anywhere else. he fidgets slightly, fingers rolling over each other in his lap, his eyes darting around the room and avoiding you.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

[moonlight-prose]

SIN TI

a/n: years ago when the falcon and the winter soldier came out, i wrote a one shot that has solidified itself as one of my favorite fic i've written. it's a friends to lovers arc and while i wanted to end it there. i couldn't stop myself from giving them another chapter to their love story. so i hope y'all enjoy. there's plenty more torres fics to come. also a massive thank you to my favorite person @soulores who bounced ideas off me and helped me with some of the spanish (i'm learning to fix up my fluency i promise).

note: this fic in my head is a latine reader, but there's no specifications/descriptions so imagine who you wish!

summary: five years have passed. five years since he boarded a plane and left you behind to wait diligently for the man who would never return. when letters and patchy phone calls failed to keep the spark of your relationship alive, you find each other again. only this time as two entirely different people.

word count: 11.2k+

pairing: joaquín torres x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, epistolary beginning, angst, broken hearts, long distance relationships, epistolary style at first, romance, friends to lovers, arguments, passionate declarations of love, fingering, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, biting, cumplay, rough sex, desperation, yearning + pining, he's got a filthy fucking mouth, more angst, the grief of failed love, second chance romance, forever.

SIEMPRE

December 5, 2023

Mi amor,

It’s hard to believe you left only a few weeks ago and somehow I miss you more than I could say in words. If it were possible I’d have sent a longer letter than this. I’d tell you how I miss our mornings spent hunting for coffee, our nights wandering the streets. I’d tell you I miss your lips. But that seems cliché given the circumstances.

I wanted you to stay. And yet…I know how important it was that you go. You need this. You need to figure out where you exist in this world after living in it alone for five years. So I hope you discover what’s always been meant to find you. And when you do, please know that I’ll be here waiting for you.

Back where it all began.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

January 8, 2024

Mi corazón,

God I miss your voice, your handwriting, your fucking smile. I miss every part of you. If I told you what I’ve actually been thinking of you’d probably never forgive me for putting it down somewhere in permanent ink. No te culpo. I wish I had better news, or at least some stories to give you, but they’re kicking my ass even before my eyes open. Bright and early at dawn until my whole body is screaming.

I don’t want you to worry mi vida. Please don’t worry. I’m doing okay. I’m alive at least. Gracias a dios. Well I wouldn’t exactly say no to a candle being lit in my name (maybe to help with the constant wake up calls of how you felt that night). Tell Clara and Michael I miss them. Give mi mamá a kiss and drop some flowers off for pops. But most importantly do me a favor.

Wear them for me yeah corazón? They’re my “lost” pair (got reamed out for “losing” my first fucking pair of dog tags but it was worth it to give you a piece of me.) Keep ‘em on. And know that I’ll be fighting like hell to get my way back to you. Back to our spot, back to morning coffee runs and night walks in the city.

They’re yours. Just like I am.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

January 16, 2024

Mi amor,

Thank you baby for the tags. I cried when I felt your name engraved in the metal. Just the feel of the letters reminded me of the way you’d draw on my papers in high school. They were so bad, but I think I still have a few of them in the back of my closet. Somehow that feels like a lifetime ago. I can tell you that I miss you—that’s true—but it’s not entirely the full truth. I never got a first date, rarely got a chance to see your eyes open when we woke up together, or drink shitty beer on the roof of my apartment.

I wish I could say that it doesn’t hurt to wait for you, but that would be a lie. And I can hear you in the back of my head saying: eres mentirosa bebita. And it makes me laugh.

This letter will probably find its way to you near Valentine’s Day. And I can’t have my brave pilot missing the fun. Don’t show anyone. Keep it in your wallet, and enjoy the late nights mi vida (pretend I’m there with my mouth to keep you company, or my hands, or my pussy).

We’ll find ourselves back in that queen sized bed soon enough—that I’m sure of. I will have to take a week off work just to get my fill of you; although even I have to admit that’ll take a long fucking time.

You and I both know I’ll never have enough.

I’ll be thinking of you, as I always do. Especially in our bed. Come home soon mi amor and I’ll be here when you finally do.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

February 16, 2024

Happy Valentine’s Day mi corazón.

You’ve got no idea what those Polaroids did to me. I think I touched myself fucking raw (or at least that’s what it feels like). I’ve got half a mind to frame them, proudly display my girl. But I know you might actually murder me, so I’ve got them where you asked—safe in my wallet. I’ve been thinking about you. Okay let me be honest. I always think about you. Seriously you fucked up my brain bebita before I left. Had me wrapped around your finger long before that night, but after…I’m going crazy without you.

Dios mío, yo también te extraño (probably more given how winded I get just thinking about you). And I wish I could say that I’ll be home eventually, but I don’t know. I wish I did. You’ve got no idea how much I wish I could find my way back to you. The air force is…it’s harder than I thought. Nothing I can’t handle.

Until then imagine me finally taking you out on that date. In fact plan it. Figure out where you wanna go, pick out an outfit that’ll drive me batshit, and I’ll be there. On that dance floor to finally finish what we started. Te amo mi corazón. More than you know.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

February 20, 2024

Mi amor,

The thought of you has driven me insane. I actually sprayed your cologne on the pillow you slept on the last few days we were together, just to remind myself of what you smelled like. I also may have rode it. But that didn’t matter. It did nothing but make me ache. Te extraño mucho Joaquin.

I don’t know what to do with myself but go to work and wait for you to come home. But I’ve done what you said—I planned our date. Dinner at our favorite place, a night of drinks at Siempre, and dessert at the small ice cream parlor on the corner.

I want to believe you when you said you could handle the airforce, and I do, but something isn’t right. Por qué mientes mi amor? You forget, I know every piece of you. I know when you’re upset. I know when you are struggling and don’t want to say it, because you think you can bear the heaviness of the world. Even when you were younger you thought you could carry the weight of everyone’s troubles on your shoulders, but you don’t have to. I’m here. I’ll carry it with you.

You can tell me what’s wrong and I’ll promise to listen, to make it better however I can. What’s our love meant to be if not carrying one another through the harsh times of life?

Tell me everything amor. I’ll listen. I’ll save you this time around.

Have they told you when you’ll be able to visit? I know it’s only been a few months, but I just always wonder. If they haven’t I understand—I just miss you. But you know this. I won’t fill up this letter with misery, because you deserve more than that. Your mamá and I have dinner on Sunday’s now (she’s teaching me how to cook so I’ll promise to make a good meal for you).

Clara and Michael are together at last! And they’re worse than us in terms of PDA. I seriously wish you were here just to help me one up them. Give them a show. But that can wait. All of it can wait. As long as I know you’re coming home to me.

Please take care of yourself mi amor. Stay safe and I’ll be here making my apartment a home for the both of us.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

March 30, 2024

Mi amor,

I hope my last letter didn’t get lost on the way to you. I’ve heard it could happen. But I’m getting worried with this constant silence. Estas bien? Are they treating you okay? Is the base nice? I just need something to know you’re okay baby. Send a letter, find a way to call me, but don’t leave me with nothing.

I’m not the only one worried and you know it.

I hope you’re safe.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

May 18, 2024

Mi corazón,

I don’t know how to start this. I should have answered you earlier. Or sent something in return to your Valentine’s gift. Or shit I should have at least fought tooth and nail for a visitation day to come see you, but that’s no longer possible mi corazón. I’m being transferred to a base further away and I’m not sure when I’ll make it back. I don’t even know if they plan on giving me an idea on what’s going to happen with me, but that’s why I had to tell you.

Lo siento bebita. I’m…I’m just sorry. I love you, I always have and always will. But I can’t force you to wait for me forever. That’s not fair to you. And you deserve better than a man who could never gather the fucking nerve to tell you the truth. Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

I’m sorry.

I will always love you.

Forever.

- Joaquín

June 1, 2024

Fuck you Joaquín Torres. You don’t get to rip my heart out that way. You don’t get to end this without looking me in the eyes. Why? Why would you make me fall in love with you if you knew this would end? Why would you promise me forever when you never meant it to begin with? Tell me. Write a fucking letter and answer me!

I deserve the truth. All of it.

I know you are struggling and won’t tell me. I know you’re fighting for your life to keep up with the demands of the airforce and like to pretend you’re fine. But you’re not fine baby. You can’t lie to me and pretend nothing’s wrong. You just…you can’t do that to me. Please. Let me in amor, let me help.

I love you Joaquín.

I need you.

-Tu corazón

FIVE YEARS LATER

The coffee tasted much more bitter than what you remembered. A biting darkness that burned the back of your throat as you gulped down what you could in the fifteen minutes you had for lunch. Whatever food you packed sat forgotten about in your fridge. Another day rushing to the office, another day wandering the streets of a city you could paint with your eyes closed.

A piece of you echoed with the voices of all who came before you. Friends you made, found family that adopted you as their own. Streets overflowing with scents of arroz con pollo and Jamaica flowers boiling away in kitchens—open windows begging for some fresh air.

July scorched the streets with heat you learned to endure. Yet this year felt worse. A curse bestowed upon the people of New York without rhyme or reason.

You pressed a piece of ice to your neck, dabbing at the sweat sliding down your chest. In the hopes you might find some relief from this torture you were forced to endure. Working in an office that barely payed you enough for the rent of your apartment and was far too cheap to put money towards a working air conditioner. You calculated the numbers for them. They could afford it.

“Fuck the heat,” you moaned, wincing with the heat of your coffee.

“That skirt’s sexy mami.”

The sound of her voice was unmistakable. A soft drawled accent of someone who spent her days speaking Spanish more than she did English. You rolled your eyes, digging out another ice cube from what remained in your plastic cup—dropping it in between your breasts with a hiss.

“Tell me why we’re out here?” you asked, shifting as the ice slid lower, finding a spot beneath your breast.

She dropped onto the bench, yanking off a black blazer that looked like hell to be wearing. “Because if I have to spend another day in a court house I’m going to blow my brains out.”

“You work in a court house Clara.”

“Callate. Don’t fucking remind me.”

Her ebony curls were gathered at the top of her head, pinned in place with a familiar teal butterfly clip you lent her a year prior. At this point asking for it back felt irrelevant. She looked better with it than you ever did—never quite learning how to pin it effortlessly like her.

“We’re going out tonight,” she announced between swipes of lipstick, fixing makeup that was primed to perfection.

With a sigh you dug for another ice cube. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Her compact clicked shut. “I rarely see you anymore. Plus Michael got the night off so he’s joining us.”

“And where exactly are you dragging me?”

“Dancing.”

You groaned, sinking into the bench far enough to be drowned by the floor. Swallowed whole into the center of Earth—an escape from being whatever you forced yourself to pretend. An adult with a clear path, someone moved on from a heartbreak that ripped you to pieces, someone whole. Yet asking for that felt as if you were signing a life altering contract with gods who weren’t listening to your cries of anguish.

Clara knew you were suffering—she could see the exhaustion on your face—but her specialty was never empathetic talks. She spoke with actions. Loud, boisterous, displays of affection. Like dragging you around town when all you were concerned about was getting home to feed your cat.

“I don’t-”

“Think so,” she mimicked, clicking her tongue. “Ay Dios how many times are you gonna use that fucking excuse?”

“What excuse?” you exclaimed, fixing her with a glare she brushed off with a sigh.

“You need to resurrect yourself. I know you don’t want to talk about him—and I won’t—but you deserve to move on. He became a superhero-”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“Then why aren’t you letting yourself finally meet a future where you get to thrive?”

She was right. You knew every word out of her mouth echoed with enough truth to stab you in the chest. Five years passed before your very eyes and you barely gave yourself a chance to breathe. He’d been your best friend, your partner in crime all these years, and to live a life without him in it felt like a betrayal. Only you weren’t the one to issue the blade, you weren’t the one to open a wound so large it took everything in you not to bleed before her now.

The trail of red followed you on the bleak path ahead. A future without love, a life half lived.

He existed in the world as a hero—a monolithic piece of history the world clamored for. You were merely a mark on a past he might never mention, a brief lapse of youthful hope diminished by powers you held no control over.

What good was it to forget yourself? He certainly didn’t miss you; he barely even thought of you. Yet somewhere along the way you gave him every ounce of strength you should have reserved for yourself.

With a sigh you tossed the empty cup into the trash beside you. “Fine.”

She laughed with a glee that helped break through your melancholy stupor. “Let’s go mami!”

“Where are we going?” And with one word she sealed your fate.

“Siempre.”

The heels were a bad idea, the short silk mini dress was a bad idea, the whole night reeked with poor decisions you should have caught a mile away. Clara shoved you into a green dress yanked from the back of her closet—a forgotten gift she claimed. Only to leave you alone at the bar, her golden yellow nails burrowed into Michael’s arm to drag him deep into a mass of people you tried to avoid.

Your mezcal was tepid, a rim of lipstick decorating the edge of the glass covered in your fingerprints. The music blared loud enough to leave a high pitched ringing in your left ear—a thumping bass causing the floor to tremble with each new song.

You had half a mind to leave, already a sweaty mess just standing listlessly by the bar in a meager attempt at the fun you once had. The same joy that happened right in this very club. But tonight felt different—an energy you couldn’t name that stuck to your tight chest.

“One more,” you called over the music, tapping your glass with a nail coated in chipped polish.

“I’ll get hers.”

You stiffened, his voice washing over you like a bucket of ice dumped atop your head. For a brief moment you wondered if it finally happened, if you reached the point of hearing him when he was nowhere to be found. A dreadful hope that lingered in your chest—a dream you couldn’t speak aloud for fear of driving yourself mad. Until he filled your peripheral, a familiar leather coat you would recognize a mile away and dark hair now cropped and cut short enough to alarm you.

“Mi corazon,” he murmured, leaning close enough to invade your senses with his cologne.

The bottle he left with you still sat on your dresser. Coated in five years of dust, untouched and frozen in a time you would give anything to go back to. Your teeth clamped onto the inside of your cheek hard enough to spill copper across your tongue—a disgusting mixture with the tequila you downed moments prior.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you croaked, barely able to look at him.

“I got home last week.”

“Good for you.” The words were biting, harsh enough to make him wince. Satisfaction flooded your veins.

“Clara invited me,” he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets—another song blasting off speakers you wished to break. “I thought…she didn’t tell you did she?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed, ducking his head to stare at his warm mezcal, a withered lime precariously placed on the rim. “I wanted to see you corazón.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.

Music rang in your ears, a deafening echo that suffocated you beneath the weight of all you couldn’t carry. He fell silent, waiting for an indication that you wanted him there. But none ever came. The irony tasted bitter at the back of your mouth—five years later and still you walked a tightrope he promised to keep upright.

He offered you forever. You just never realized how quickly he could take it all back.

The alcohol stirred in your stomach, bile clawing up the back of your throat and suddenly Joaquín showing up out of the blue wasn’t your only problem. You couldn’t be there. You didn’t know how to stand beside him, feel the heat of his body packed in with everyone else—shame digging its talons into your skin with a malice you probably deserved. Neither of you fought for the love to last.

He didn’t fight for you.

“I came to talk to you-”

“I can’t do this,” you rasped, pushing off the bar before he could finish his half formed pathetic excuse.

“Wait.”

A hand curled into the satin fabric along your back—your quick movements pulling him into the fray. You itched to twist away, remove any trace of his touch that begged to seep into sticky skin and taint the sporadic beating of your heart.

The wall of people stopped you in your tracks, their bodies moving with fluid grace. They called to you, whispered notes of a siren song you could hear beneath the rush of blood in your ears. A thumping promise that banged against a door you sealed shut. You knew it wouldn’t fix anything—only a guarantee to make matters worse—but there was no ignoring what beckoned you forth.

Joaquín called after you, shoving his way through a drunk crowd that barely noticed he was there. You could feel him at your heels, breath fighting its way into your lungs with each punctured gasp—a ragged need for something other than this heat.

His hand curled around your hip, nose buried at the base of your neck.

“Dance with me?” he mumbled.

You allowed your eyes to slip shut, breath spilling past parted lips as the taste of tequila permeated the tip of your tongue. “I hate you,” you sighed, fingers tangling with his.

“Lo se.”

“Then why did you come back?”

The sway of his body behind yours echoed with comfort—that night burned into the back of your mind. “You.”

He spoke with sincerity. A coveted admission he buried the day he wrote those words—his fate sealed with such a tiny stamp. The years may have dragged by, his head barely above water, but the truth still remained. The mere knowledge that you existed somewhere on this Earth—a piece of him left to drag yourself out of the hell he created—broke him little by little. Until he woke up one day, struggling to breathe.

Dancing with Joaquín felt natural. Years spent bar hopping and sneaking into club back entrances weren’t something you could forget with ease.

“It’s not that easy,” you retorted, voice thick and throat constricted. “You don’t just get to…”

“Mírame corazón.”

“No.” The gasp at his touch twirling you slowly in arms you once longed to feel around your waist said otherwise.

There was no fighting something your heart ached for, a pitiful longing you felt claw at the pit of your stomach. The closeness of it, the heat pouring off his body—his hands guiding your hips into a motion the both of you understood better than words spoken in anger. You wanted to hate him. Some parts of you did.

The razor thin line of hate and love blurred as he fit you against his body. A missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for.

He possessed your soul with each step, fingers tangling into his shirt to keep yourself upright. The awkward playfulness that arose like before was nowhere to be found. This time you knew the stakes. He understood the consequences that came with making his choice and he had to live with it every day of his life. Fixing what might forever remain broken would take more than a dance, but it was somewhere to start.

“I fucking missed you,” he whispered—throat tight, constricting his words. He wanted to say more than this, more than words that rang with a hollow truth you might never believe again.

What was stopping you from walking away and leaving him in your past?

What kept you in his arms, following the swivel of hips he craved to grip through the years?

“Joaquín,” you breathed, eyes half lidded and sweat glistening in the orange glow.

“Etérea.”

You pulled away, the hint of lips curled into a grin flashing in darkness he had to squint through. The memories were falling into place. Forgotten joy, carefree moments scattered across a life spent together. He trailed after you for years, determined to love you up to his final breath; if only you understood how quick he might have fulfilled that promise. The reason he crawled his way back—pain splintering along his spine, purple hued bruises now a soft yellow along paled skin.

Tugging you back with a chuckle, he felt the anger wash off your body as you collided with him. His chest snug against your arched back. This was his home. The one place he never dared tell another soul about—too afraid it might disappear.

The gasp you let out was ragged, marred by all the grief he put you through. “I…”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you too,” you relented, head falling back to his shoulder—the mouth you dreamed about finding purchase on your neck.

This felt like a betrayal of yourself. The past five years spent battling demons you never thought could exist in your life. He tore you to pieces with just a few words. Paragraphs of messy ink forever stained in the back of your mind. You could still feel the fucking paper under your fingers—splotches of tears discoloring the pen he used.

How could you allow him to drag you back? But you were tired of pretending to be okay. Exhausted by piteous smiles and pathetic excuses to bring you back to life.

You were stumbling down a dangerous path; his teeth digging softly into salt coated skin that haunted him in dreams. The prick of his incisors scraping along your vein jolted what little sense remained into place—your heart thundering an erratic beat in your chest. He still moved with you, hands securely placed on your hips, body molded to your back until you felt his jeans dig into you.

Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

“Stop-” Abruptly he stopped, his touch falling limp at his sides. “No I can’t… We can’t.”

“Joaquín!” Clara’s voice punctured through the thick atmosphere of lust—the wanton need for him washing away with each wave of pain. “You made it.”

“Excuse me,” you muttered, dragging in breath after breath until you lungs burned with the effort. The sting was good, it kept your head above water.

Ramming through the throngs of people you staggered towards the bathrooms. Everyone was far too preoccupied with dancing to crowd the bathrooms and your luck finally came to fruition when you saw an empty hallway. Half worded apologies spilled out of your mouth, tears burning your already hot cheeks as you moved fast enough to send a searing ache down one ankle.

Joaquín’s stomach lurched, his feet already moving before his body could catch up. Michael’s arm looping around his shoulder kept him where he stood, his eyes tracking your stumbling form until the crowd swallowed you whole. Leaving him to agonizingly swallow the stone now stuck at the top of his esophagus.

You were hurt—fighting five years of pain—and he was the one to cause it.

“How was the flight man?”

He snapped to attention, slapping a fake grin on his face he hoped would be enough to sell the lie. “Flight was good. Cramped with all the people.”

“What you didn’t get first class?” Clara teased. “I thought being an Avenger came with perks.”

“Not an Avenger. Well…not yet.”

“Gettin’ too busy for us New York folk huh,” Michael pressed.

Joaquín didn’t hear a word they said, too focused on where you went, what you were doing, how he could rectify his stupid fucking mistake. “Ya cállate hombre. I’m never too busy for you guys.”

“Could have fooled us.” Clara sipped at her drink, a brown lined mauve smile glinting with a voracious sneer he’d seen before. A look reserved for those who warranted such revenge. “I saw you two dancing.”

“Yeah…we were-”

“Too bad she’s already taken isn’t it?” she sighed, the saccharine pitch of her voice slowing the music as a low pitched buzz blaring in his ears.

“W-What?”

“She’s dating someone. A guy from her office. They met a year ago I think? Bueno, we’re thinking wedding bells soon. Since it’s been so long.”

Joaquín’s heart stuttered, mind blaring with a barrage of anger he shut away—self hatred he’d grown familiar with. Time came to a stop, the thumping music falling away, and suddenly he was back in the air. Falling to his death. Your face, your laugh, your voice, whispering in the back of his head—calling him to stay alive. Beckoning him home with wide eyes and forgiveness coated on your tongue.

You couldn’t be lost to him so soon. You were supposed to wait for him.

Only those were fictitious dreams procured in a fractured mind. You didn’t have to do anything. He let you go. And there was no fixing what he destroyed—a grave he dug for himself now lingering with the scent of your perfume, the ghost of your touch haunting him.

“But…” Struggling for air, he straightened his spine—heart twisting beneath the weight of his fuck up. “Wedding bells?”

Clara nodded. “She didn’t tell you?”

The anger was seething in his chest, scorching each vein, clamping around his lungs. “No. That wasn’t mentioned.”

“Pity,” she muttered. “Michael? Another drink mi amor?”

His feet were moving before she could finish her question, hands pushing past drunk people and sweaty bodies lost to the beat of the music. Somewhere in the club you were running to escape a future he now knew could never be. He knew being calm, level headed enough to push through this haze of red, was the only option at this point. But there was no reasoning in love, no sense to be had when you were so close.

Someone cussed at him in Spanish as he managed to make it to the hallway, pushing open the bathroom door without hesitation. You stood alone by the sink. Wiping at tears that refused to stop—your eyes tinged red with how rough you were on yourself. Only when the click of the lock echoed in the small space did you finally look up, finding his reflection in the mirror—your lips twisted into a frown.

“Occupied,” you spit out, yanking another towel from the dispenser.

“Corazón-”

“I don’t want to hear it Joaquín.”

“Five minutes.”

“No. What do you think I don’t want to hear it means? I’ve had enough of the fucking mind games for one night-”

“Escuchame.” The word bit out from the back of his throat, freezing you in place. “What do you want me to say huh? I’m sorry for being an asshole? I’m sorry for fucking up the best part of my life?”

“You were an asshole,” you retorted.

“I know that.” He took three steps, pinning you to the sink, a look you wanted to recognize but couldn’t painting his features. “I know I’m gonna spend every day of my existence apologizing for the shit that I pulled. But what I didn’t know was the truth.”

“What truth are you-”

“Marriage?” he growled like the word dripped with enough sin to kill him on the spot. “You’re practically engaged and chose to dance with me like that? Like I still had a chance?”

Your jaw hung open, mind reeling as the word hit you. “Marriage?” you exclaimed. “Who the fuck…”

“Clara practically jumped for joy with the news.” The laugh dripped with contempt, fingers curling into the edge of the sink as he moved close enough to smell the tequila on your tongue. “I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“Mentirosa,” he huffed.

“Joaquín you’re being insane-”

“Am I?” he snapped. “You’ve driven me insane. Since I lost you I’ve felt pieces of myself disappear.” He dropped his forehead to yours, the warm wash of his breath brushing along your lips—begging for the oxygen you stole when he let you go. “You gotta tell me corazón. Tell me who he is.”

Believing that Clara wouldn’t get involved somehow was ignorance on your part, but some selfish part of you wanted to watch him suffer. To see him break as you did years ago.

Perhaps it was bad of you, a sinister part of your mind speaking, and yet you couldn’t let go of what Clara started. Marriage to a fictitious man—enough of a reality to prove that you were better. That you could live without Joaquín taking up space in your life.

“So you can confront him? I don’t think so.”

Words that only seemed to rile an unforgiving beast buried in the depths of a gentle man. “Someone has to tell him you’re mine.”

Your breath hitched, an all too familiar siren call dragging you to the bottom of an ocean you traversed long ago. “I’m not…”

“Sí lo eres.”

Yes. You were his.

There was no use denying what you could feel in a heart that would forever be carved with his initials. Sacred with its thorns and roots, it drew you to him, captured you with the vow of all he promised before shit fell apart. You were his. You couldn’t even fathom belonging to anyone else. And he knew it the moment your eyes flicked up to meet his—those brown irises you ached for.

“Yeah…” His hand cupped your chin, thumb pulling at a pliable bottom lip willing to fall open. “You know it don’t you bebita?”

“Joaquín-”

Music thumped with a bass loud enough to rattle the walls of this small bathroom, but you could barely hear it over the sound of his heavy exhale. His lips caught yours, hand tightening at the soft breath you pushed into his open mouth—tongue sliding along teeth and taste buds still coated in mezcal. Sucking in air you dug a hand into curls you tugged years ago; still the same man you loved, yet someone entirely different.

A person you longed to know.

You lost all sense when a hand tugged at the skirt of your dress, pushing it up past your hip with a muffled groan. The kisses burned you inside, curling a fist around an already bleeding heart. He devoured you, swallowed each sound and quick pant as you looped your arms around his neck to extinguish the space between your bodies. Fingers dipped beneath the elastic waistband of panties he’d admire later, too intent on the feel of your damp patch and pooling slick.

“Fuck I missed you,” he sighed, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat, palm tipping your head back with a pleased hum. “So wet corazon.”

“I n-need-”

“I know.” Licking a line down your jugular you felt whatever anger still simmered beneath the surface vanish—wanton lust blinding you to the mess this would create. “I’ve been thinking about this. How you feel.”

You moaned, hips pushing into his touch. “Please. Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he smiled, fingers sliding along your twitching clit with ease—able to rip sounds from you that had gone dormant the day he left. “That what you want? Need that pretty clit played with?”

Nodding frantically wasn’t good enough for a man who dreamed of this moment since departure. He gripped your cheeks, thumb running along a cheek decorated in soft gold glitter courtesy of Clara. A small showing of reverence for the man who toyed with your folds, dipping a finger into your slick and dragging it up slow enough to send shivers up your spine.

“I want words.”

“I-I want you to…”

“To what?” he asked far too smug in the way heat flooded your face, burning the tips of your ears and back of your neck.

Yanking at his curls, you watched in fascination when his head fell back, a groan bubbling past swollen lips. “I want you to make me cum on your fingers,” you breathed, lips pressed to a red flushed ear.

He smiled, dazed by the tight grip in which you held him. “As you wish.”

You should have seen it coming the second you released him, how his lips mashed to yours with a grunt, two fingers plunging into your dripping cunt down to his knuckles. Exactly what you asked for on his terms. You wanted to finish and Joaquín was nothing if not competent in that job. The order falling smooth from your mouth—his mind latching onto it with a desperation you’d never seen in him before.

The heel of his hand ground against your clit, trapping you on the edge of that all too familiar rush of bliss. You were right there. Chasing the edge of something mind numbing. By the hands of a man who ripped you apart, leaving you behind with nothing but blunt words and faded ink.

“That it?” Your body pitched forward, face burying into his shoulder when his fingers struck perfectly. “Yeah that’s it huh.”

“I’m gonna—fuck—g-gonna cum.”

He doubled down, practically ripping the high from you with a voracious need to see you break for him. To burn his name in the walls of your fluttering cunt that coated his palm in your slick. Even through the loud echo of music you could hear the wet squelch of his fingers pounding into you, possessing you in a way that was bound to leave you a shell of yourself.

“Soak my hand,” he breathed against the shell of your ear.

Your thighs trembled, clamping down around his wrist as it tore through you. A muffled shout pressed between teeth you sunk against his neck—marking him with the harsh lines of your canines. The music faded, everything else deafened by the ringing in your ears, the wash of bliss far too much for you to take. It wasn’t until your hand gripped his did he finally cease his movements, pulling away to give you a chance for fresh air not plagued by the scent of his cologne.

“W-Wait.”

“Take your time querida.”

“We shouldn’t…” Reality crashed onto your shores with a harsh sweep that nearly dragged you beneath darkened waves you couldn’t navigate alone.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in the heat of passion with minds muddled by alcohol and adrenaline, not when he still refused to acknowledge that whatever occurred beforehand wasn’t for the best. You were lost, begging for him to lead you somewhere safe. To protect you against the darkness that ravaged your mind for five years. Instead he allowed jealousy to get the best of him.

You were his without question. But at what cost?

“I need some air,” you gasped, pushing him back until you could stand on shaky legs.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Everything. “I just need air.”

You needed far more than that. Something that would cure the agonizing pain coursing through your veins, the buzz of pleasure and alcohol barely making a dent. You cringed at the slick smearing along the crease of your thighs as you walked—the consistent throbbing where his fingers hooked into you drove your mind to the brink of something worse than madness. He owned you in a matter of minutes; reminded you exactly where you belonged.

“Stop fuckin’ running,” he called after you, pushing past the crowd.

Clara caught your gaze for a brief moment, concern flashing to the surface before you shook her off. Making a beeline for the only exit people practically poured out of. The air felt cold along your skin, drying the sweat along your arms and legs. And he rushed out after you, close on your heels—snapping at a chance to corner you.

To finally hash out what should have been said five years ago.

“Will you look at me?”

Sucking in a breath, you struggled to calm the overbearing rush in your ears. “Just…let me breathe please.”

“Mi vida-”

“No!” you snapped, whirling around to catch his stunned face. Everything unraveled faster than you could gather it in your shaky palms, slipping between spread fingers and raw nails that clung to peace. “You return after five years of silence and what? You expect me to forgive you? Just like that?”

The echo of your voice traveled down the street, attracting attention from whoever was closest, but you’d breached the point of complacent false smiles and sweet words void of feeling. He’d ripped you to shreds in mere sentences. Sliced through a lonely heart with something he knew would destroy what parts of your relationship held on despite the distance.

“I was willing to wait for years Joaquín,” you sobbed. “But you couldn’t even handle a few fucking months. You were too much a goddamn coward to break up with me the night you left.”

“Do you think I wanted to break up with you?” he snarled.

“Yes-”

“Me vuelves loco.” He’d been reduced to muttering under his breath, hands tugging at his hair as you wiped at the tears with sweaty palms. Love wasn’t supposed to be this. A knife neither of your held onto, plunging into wounds that never stopped bleeding. But he couldn’t stay away.

Who was he without you in his life?

“Maybe you just have to let me go-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking sentence,” he spit between clenched teeth. “You think I wanted to be without you for five years? That life was easy without hearing your voice or seeing your face? That you were alone because of the choice I made? I hate myself for destroying us! I can’t let you go because I’m desperately hopelessly in love with you. You can’t fix that corazón.”

Your breath hitched, familiar words spoken a lifetime ago here in this very spot. “It hurts Joaquín. Being near you is strangling me.”

“Then tell me what I can do. You have to tell me so I can fix it.”

“I don’t know if you can,” you whispered.

Taking the final few steps, he finally stood toe to toe with you—a calloused hand reaching for the curve of your cheek glistening with makeup and tears beneath the dim streetlight. “I’m nothing without you. I just existed for five years until I saw you again.”

His touch was warm, enticing in all the familiar ways that transformed the reasons you fell for him. Even as you shattered before him, there was still comfort to be found in his presence. He was the sunlight on a warm summer day. The reason you bloomed in the seasons of friendship and almosts and forgotten saccharine love. You couldn’t remain tied to the ground without him acting as gravity—twining himself around your broken form to keep you safe.

Even if he was the reason you bled along the cracked pavement below.

Perhaps it was a mistake, a memory you’d look back on in another five years. But he’d been your path since you found his eyes in a crowded classroom. His smile painted across cheeks that flushed red when you asked if he’d like to sit with you—if he’d take the first step in a thousand, start the story and watch it unfold before you.

“Okay,” you breathed, lost in the brown hue that still gleamed after all this time.

The apartment was stuffy after hours of relentless summer heat. A broken fan you never bothered to fix sat precariously on a stack of worn books picked up at the local thrift store. Joaquín thumbed through a familiar title he remembered snagging off your bookshelf in your old bedroom. The pages were yellowed, corners folded and re-straightened, but he could recall the story as if he was back in that old house listening to your family through the walls.

“How’d I know you pick that one,” you mused, discarding your purse onto a slightly messy kitchen table.

“Can’t help that I love it.”

You smiled. “Even though I never let you borrow it.”

“Never said I had to give it back,” he retorted, leaving it on the small wooden table by your counter, making a note to stick it in his back pocket when you weren’t looking. “The place looks…the same.”

“And that’s bad?” He snapped to attention, stomach jumping. Only to melt at the shining grin you gifted him in the yellow glow of your lamps. “Eres tan fácil.”

Laughter came easier the closer it got to midnight, the familiar warmth of your apartment echoing with memories he wouldn’t soon forget. “Mala.”

If he closed his eyes that night existed with a clarity that punched the air out of his chest. The quick pace you fell into one another—uncaring of what might come to pass. You were reckless in love, desperate to finally feel the touch held back for so long, the longing that was bound to snap. He could smell the perfume you wore, taste the drink you were nursing before Michael pushed him to dance with you. How you sounded beneath him, looked and tasted and touched after years of pure imagination.

Tonight sparked with a charged past ready to play out before your very eyes. A moment in time neither of you could ignore for much longer.

“Water?” you asked breaking the weighty silence.

He shook his head, eyes dark with a familiar need you’d seen once before. “I wanna talk. Like we used to.”

“Talk…” Sucking in a breath, you wiped at the sweat gathering along your chest. Joaquín followed the slow movement with rapt attention—his mouth dry and chest thundering with a restless heart. “What’s there to say? I already know what you’ve been up. Congrats by the way.”

The words were dry off your tongue. A silver tipped blade pressed to the base of his neck.

How could he blame you? When the reason he left you forged a direct path to who he became. The title he carried across his back as he struggled for air.

He wouldn’t be Falcon if he stayed. But he also might have been happy.

“You’re the first person I wanted to tell,” he said softly, admitting what he harbored in a cracked heart for years.

Your heart twisted, stomach fluttering in that old way it used to when you’d catch sight of him. Frustrating. Even as you relished in emotions you longed for after he left. Hope that this would turn into more—a future you could count on. Rather than a consequence you never asked for. Sleeping with him wasn’t the problem; neither was loving him. Even if he never returned you would regret making those choices, pieces of your life that set your heart on fire.

“You could have. If you stayed.”

Joaquín sighed, fingers curling into fists as he gnashed at his cheek. “I know. You never asked about me.”

“What,” you blurted out.

“Micheal knew where I was. He kept in touch. You could have asked him.”

You scoffed. “And who broke up with who again?”

“I wasn’t going to make you wait on me corazón. Being a ball and chain isn’t who I am and you know that. You had a whole life ahead of you. Things you planned to do before that night-”

“What life?” you exclaimed, voice pitched high enough to scratch an already raw throat. “I was broken for five years! Time I’ll never get back. All for what? So you could feel better about a decision you made on a whim? Without asking if that’s what I wanted.”

Ripping open yet another wound he felt his heart give out at the shine of tears on your face. Makeup smudged along the rim of your wet eyes, lips smeared with the remnants of a lipstick he knew was stained along his shirt. You were everything he wanted in life, the moonlight he basked in at the end of the day. The sirens song he crawled home to hear one last time, even as he drowned beneath a shattered love you might never reciprocate again.

He exhaled long and heavy, wiping at his eyes as he glanced around your darkened apartment. A couch he’d slept on was shoved near the window, a new T.V. mounted on the wall was turned off, and an old record player he helped you find now set on a rickety stand. Records piled on a coffee table he could remember eating off of before you found a kitchen table.

A home you built in the time he was gone. One that was always meant to be entwined with his possessions and memories.

Orange flowers sat in a familiar crystal vase his mother used to keep by the kitchen window. Always a new bouquet brought in from his father at the end of a long work week. Music flowing between the walls of a house he now stayed in as he fought to prove himself to you all over again. A past that you lingered in without knowing.

“Cempasúchil.”

You caught what he was fixed on—a small gathering of flowers from the corner you grabbed without thinking. A routine you’d grown to love even after years of his absence.

“For your pops. You said they were his favorite.”

His heart dropped. “You still bring him flowers?”

“I go every Friday with your mamá.”

Every Friday…

Five years of days spent with his family. Even after things fell apart.

He loved you.

He would love you til his last breath, the final beat of a heart that always belonged to him from the very first page. There was no denying a truth that couldn’t be buried in the depths of guilt and grief. Pain laced with memories that clung to apartment walls and city streets. You were his forever. His soul twisted around a body carved with your name.

“Siempre te amaré,” he whispered.

The gasp sounded sweet off lips he could still taste. “Joaquín-”

“I do,” he confessed. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t loved you mi corazón.”

“You can’t just say that.”

“Why?” he demanded.

Slowly you lowered yourself into a chair that was once stuffed into the corner of his living room. “Because we still have to talk about what this is. What we’re gonna do to figure it out while you’re home.”

“What this is? I know what it is. I’ve known since you asked me to sit next to you. I’m yours. I’ve been yours all along.” He dropped to his knees quicker than either of you expected, his hands grasping the warmth of your thighs through sweat stained satin. “I got hurt mi vida.”

Your body stilled, hands cupping his cheeks as fear threaded between each rib and nerve. “What?”

“I…I was stupid and made a mistake and they had to stitch me back together. But I couldn’t care about any of it. Not the fucking pain, or surgery, or having to recover for months, because when I was falling out of the sky…all I could think about was you.”

How quickly you could have lost him and you never knew. You weren’t there when he was struggling to live. You weren’t there when he woke up. You…weren’t there.

“I-I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I didn’t know. I would have come to you-”

“No, no está bien. Yo estoy bien.”

“You almost died and you’re saying it’s okay?”

He smiled, forehead pressing to your stomach—fingers digging into what flesh he could hold as you clung to him. Some part of you sunk your teeth into the fear of losing him, dragging it close to swallow down that feeling. Every emotion, all the pain it kept you alive. It let you know he was there with you and for the first time in five years you held the choice of forever in your hands once more.

There he was offering you everything he was. All he could be, all you knew he was.

The man you were always destined to fall into.

“It is okay,” he murmured. “Because I’m here with you. And I didn’t think I’d get that again. I’m home.”

This is where belonged. The space that called him forward and you watched his eyes raise to find yours. Love shining in irises that haunted his waking life. Everywhere he went Joaquín saw you. In the midnight sky, in the summer days spent on a stuffy base somewhere, in the people he met and allies he formed. You existed in all that encompassed him—a soul he’d struggle to find and vow to keep.

“Rip me apart mi vida. Destroy me as many times as you want. I’ll do anything you want if it means stayin’ with you.”

“Mi amor,” you said beneath a soft breath and his heart mended itself with a shaky ragged gasp.

He rose to meet your lips as your fingers scrambled to find purchase in his jacket, tugging him close enough to nearly tip the chair back. If it fell he’d be there to catch you. Perhaps that’s what had your legs sliding up around his hips, a soft moan pressed to a tongue that slid along yours. The taste of you drove him off the brink of what kept him sane—all the attempted to stow inside an aching heart.

Licking into your mouth with a broken whimper, he dragged you to the edge of the chair, hands kneading at the top of your ass. You yelped into it with a smile, diving into the kiss with a fervor that had him leaking into his jeans. The heat from earlier pooled along his spine again and Joaquín knew he’d barely survive sinking into you; he could feel his cock twitch with every stroke of your tongue.

“Bedroom,” he gruffly got out, yanking you up onto wobbly legs. “‘M not fucking you in the kitchen. Not tonight.”

You grinned, tugging him down an all too familiar path. “There’s going to be more than one night?”

“If I have any say about it.”

“Eres bien creído.”

Hands ripped at your dress, pulling it up and off your body before he could even reach the bed slightly messy with rumpled covers. A staple he could always remember. It made him smile against your lips as you tugged at his clothes—those same warm hands sliding along bare skin. The jacket was left by the door, shirt tossed to the depths of your room and Joaquín placed you on the mattress before reaching for his belt.

Chills rippled along your back at the sound, heart hammering in your chest. He looked the same. Yet something older was housed in his stance, someone who was sure of himself in the way he pushed away the last of his clothes. A grin bloomed across swollen lips.

You admired him as much as you could. Dragging your eyes down to the red tip of his leaking cock and breathlessly finding his eyes in the dark of your bedroom. Last time neither of you got this chance. A moment of stillness before you collided. Silence thick with an electrifying tension you felt down to your toes.

Lifting a bare leg, you placed your foot on his stomach, dragging it down until his hand wrapped around an ankle—tugging you close with a harsh breath.

“Being a tease huh?” he mumbled, lips finding a home at the top of your thigh.

“Not my fault you’re easy to mess with.”

“Since when?”

You smiled, fingers curling around his mussed hair. “Since always.”

Words slipped to the back of a clouded mind when his hands tugged at the lace of your panties, sliding them off and marveling at the wet spot left behind. He could practically taste you on his tongue. The addicting tang of what he’d been craving since he left you at that airport. With a shuddered breath he slid a thumb along your folds, circling your clit hard as you writhed under his needy touch.

“W-Want you inside me,” you forced out, hips rolling into his hand.

Somehow through the haze of lust he made himself follow through with your plea. Hand positioning himself along the dripping hole he’d drink from later—his tongue swiping along his bottom lip. You were mewling for him, fingers twisting into the sheets and legs dropping open wide enough to accommodate his hips.

He slid along your cunt, grinning with unhinged glee at the loud moan ripped from your throat. You were unable to beg. Mouth barely forming coherent words as he toyed with your pulsing clit. Precum stained the pretty clean skin of your inner thigh, smearing a mess into the hair he was desperate to bury his nose in.

“Say it for me yeah?” he muttered, voice deep with gravel.

A gasping moan hit his ears, your chest heaving. “Please. Fuck me. Come in me. Just p-please do something-”

“Sh, sh. I know mi corazón. You’re empty without my cock huh?”

You nodded, yanking him close enough to feel his chest against yours. “Need it baby. Need you to stuff me full.”

“Mierda-” The near painful twitch of his cock had him burying his face into your neck, teeth scraping against the delicate chain of your necklace. Until he caught sight of silver tucked between your breasts, hidden by the black lace of your bra—a piece of himself he thought he’d never see again.

Only when he was ripping at your final item of clothing did you drag yourself through the thick fog. “W-What’s wrong-”

“You kept them,” he breathed, lips mashing to yours and hand roughly kneading your breast with a grunt. “Wore them the whole fuckin’ time tonight and I didn’t know.”

You wanted to explain that they were all you had left of him, a comfort after all this time. But his mouth closing around your nipple shut down everything but the sparks rushing along veins you didn’t know could exist. He sucked at your skin, teeth indenting into the softness of your breast. That desperate hunger shoving to the forefront—something you could feel wrap around the length of your spine.

He rutted into you, cock brushing where you needed him most, but you couldn’t let go of those words. There was no world where you wouldn’t love him.

No plane of existence you’d be where he wasn’t.

“They’re yours,” you gasped, grinding against him—head tipped back as his teeth scraped your throat. “I’ve always worn them. Since you—fuck baby—sent them to me.”

Whatever he could have said vanished, his mind going white at the thought of you wearing his dog tags from the very beginning. Five years of holding him over your heart. Time he believed to be filled with a cold resentment suddenly colored itself with a flushed pink haze—a dreamlike state he drowned in with a smile painted across his face. You loved him. Even through all this…it would always be him.

He sunk into you in one thrust and you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders at the sudden stretch, his hips meeting yours and head falling to your chest. A muffled fuck pressed between the curve of your breasts—tongue licking the bead of sweat along skin that glistened in the yellow haze of your bedroom. Breath twisted in your lungs, trapping what oxygen remained as he snapped his hips down into you again. Dragging out with slow cruel thrusts.

“So fuckin’ good,” he gasped, hand tangling with yours and pressing it into the plush comforter. “Gonna make me lose my damn mind.”

“Baby.” The word was a desperate whine on your lips, thighs wrapped tight around his hips—chest heaving for resuscitation from the plane of bliss he threw you into.

Without a map you feared you’d be lost to its depths. But his teeth digging into your lip kept you close, satiated the tremble going down your limbs.

There was no mercy in how he fucked you. No time for soft reverence and tender quiet moments. That would find its way to you later—when the moon began its descent along the horizon, time reaching far enough to still what small pleasures you could steal. He’d bring you back to life with a tongue buried in slick folds and fingers pumping deep.

Tonight he ravaged, took his fill of what you both craved as the night went on. Two souls verging together at last. Finally found after years of distance—entire galaxies spanning the years he spent away from your touch.

“Listen,” he breathed hotly into your mouth, lips quirking as the sound graced ears unable to discern his voice from the thundering of your own heart.

But he slowed his movements, plunging into you with a biting grunt you felt burn into your lungs. The loud wet squelch of your cunt bouncing off the walls of an apartment privy to this once before. Sinful in its agonizing beauty. He smiled, grinding his hips hard enough to drag a throaty moan from your chest—his lips there to swallow what you offered with glee. Heat burned beneath your cheeks, the tinge of shame digging between ribs and arteries.

Until he dropped to his elbow, your name encased in a high breath—his brows pulled together and teeth indenting the plush bottom lip you longed to suck on.

“S-Shit baby I’m not—fuck-” The word dragged between a clenched jaw as he rapidly pounded into you, the bed creaking from the force you felt with each stroke.

His cock struck against your walls, a creamy slick pouring out to drip down your ass, coating his balls as they slapped against skin he’d dig his teeth into later. A mess. He’d reduced the both of you to a fucking mess, unable to pick through a hazy mind. Each moan you let out grew higher, thighs shaking from the effort, and he ripped away from your touch before you could drag him close. Looping each limb over arms prominent with veins and familiar tattoos.

Mistakes made back in the youth of being nineteen. Time he spent wrapped in any part of you he could get. Even as something more simmered beneath a friendship always destined to change.

“Joaquín-” you sobbed, clutching at any part of him you could reach, his chest and shoulders red with marks from your nails. “I-I’m not engaged.”

He stilled, eyes wide and mouth parted as he panted for air. “You said-”

“I-I could never marry someone t-that wasn’t you.”

A strand finally snapped, edge reached long before you could ask him what created it in the first place. Brown suddenly bled into black and he now fucked you with everything in him. Lips sealed over yours, hand clenching tight around your hips—his coarse hair dragging along a throbbing clit that begged for more. Your walls fluttered around him, a shattered cry lost to his kiss, but nothing had felt so perfect.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ marry you,” he grunted, forehead resting against yours, bending you up and into his body—cock ramming right up into a spot that left you going blind with pleasure. “Make you mine.”

Everything you longed for—five years of love and grief—crashed at the shore of your body. Ripping the final pieces of your heart from the decay it lived with. You came with his name on your lips, back arching up into him hard enough to draw a flicker of pain down your spine—your eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the fabric beneath you.

He collapsed over you with a choked shout, face buried into your neck as he coated your walls with that soft pool of warmth. A feeling you had forgotten about—bliss wrapped in the taut muscles of his arms, his body a heavy weight on yours. You were lost to it, drowning in his scent and taste, but his lips finding yours tied you back down to Earth. His hands sliding along your skin, tongue licking the pain off the back of your teeth.

Joaquín pieced you back together with a love that altered you entirely, shifted all that you were beneath the tidal waves of his heart. Peace settled in the base of a hammering heart—hope finding a home in the bottom of a fluttering stomach.

You loved him.

Eternally.

And that would forever be enough.

Sunlight danced along the bare skin of your back, face pressed into his chest—ear above a steady beating heart. It lulled you to sleep after hours of rekindling a flame that never went out. His hands a burn along your body, lips reacquainting with the dips and curves of your thighs. He sought you out in the early hours of dawn with a stiff cock and groggy pleas for your sweet essence.

Who were you to deny him?

He smiled pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers toying with your ring finger. If he narrowed his eyes in the afternoon light he could see a flash of yellow gold along skin he savored—a hand he clutched with promise. It wouldn’t be too big; nor small enough to hide from inquiring eyes. A perfect set of jewels adorned on a finger he kissed, the piece of you yet to hold his permanent promise.

Till death.

Till he found you in the next life.

Slipping from the tangle of your limbs, he relished the leap of his heart at the sight of you spread along the bed. Naked and at bliss, exhausted from his hunger. He stole another kiss along your spine, finding his way through the familiar path of the kitchen that still lingered with the laughter of memories that painted the walls. Times spent with friends—now turned family—moments he might one day have again.

A faded picture of two young kids at high school graduation was pinned to the fridge door, another of a night spent dancing at some shitty frat party—high off the freedom of adulthood. Two versions of a love he’d could pick out with his eyes shut tight.

Another would set nicely beside them. Of a wedding in a small backyard, an aisle scattered with orange petals and white daisies adorned to his tux—a veil dragging along the floor where you walked towards him. An image that would be placed on altars in memory, an offering set between the frame and candle as he clutched you tight even in the afterlife.

The coffee machine beeped, two mugs set on the counter as he poured, and that’s where you found him. Fussing with the bottle of cream and sugar packets damp from hot liquid. He wore his jeans low on hips you bit at some point in the night—the indent of your teeth marked into skin that would forever wear your mark. Even if you had to place it night after night.

Your arms looped around his waist, lips finding the warm skin of his back. “I wanted to wake up with you.”

He laughed, turning gently in your hold. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You can still surprise me.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, eyes gleaming with a light that caught your breath in the base of your throat. “Got something in mind?”

Life suddenly held a different glow. Contentment filling veins with a something new. A piece that didn’t exist without him near—his love pressing deep and bright into a chest that burned hot. He left you breathless, begging for reprieve. Yet losing yourself to it all the same.

“So…about everything-” He cut you off with a kiss, hand dragging your left palm to his mouth. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

He smiled, at ease with the nerves he could feel beneath your wrist. “If I did?”

“I’d like that,” you breathed.

“Siempre estaras conmigo mi corazón?”

You nodded, heart singing beneath his love. “Si mi amor. I’ll be with you forever.”

©moonlight-prose do not feed my work into ai, do not steal my work, if you are a minor, spam like my fics, or are a blank blog you will be blocked.

[aliwritex]

BRAKE ih6

summary: isack’s girlfriend is ovulating and she wants to be fucked dumb. wc: 2.9k

warnings: all of them. throat fucking, public fingering, wet dream, possibly headspace, fem receiving oral, anal play, couple slaps if course, dirty talk, protected sex (what is that?) some french, i hope it’s right. domish isack

notes: it’s just their Monday after the spanish gp. pls ignore the fact that airplanes are disgusting. and pls don’t do what they did, you can probably catch something. he needs to stop doing so good or im gonna have to write every weekend. i actually need someone to tell me if the french is cringe!!!

It started with a comment. You woke up to a naked Isack by your side after an eventful night in Spain and at some point, in your lazy morning you might have mentioned that his soft cock was ‘cute’.

Now, Isack wasn’t actually offended, he knew what he had and he knew you hadn’t found it cute the night before. But he thought shutting you up with it would be a good idea.

That’s why he manhandled you between his thighs, “Open your mouth.”

You didn’t even think, your mouth fell open immediately, your tongue sticking out for him. And he gave you just the tip — dragging it over your tongue slowly, watching you taste him just to tease both you and himself. But when you moan at it, he can’t take it.

He slid in deeper, making you take him fully. You breathed slowly as he started to move, slow at first, guiding your mouth with both hands, his eyes glued to your lips, watching the way they stretched around him. He was careful, paying attention to your cues, making sure he didn’t hurt you. But when he saw how easily you were taking him he started going deeper, harder. Until he was fucking himself into your throat.

His hips moved steadily and although he felt like he needed to stop every time you gagged softly around him, you pulled him closer. Your nails were digging into his thighs, thick spit dripping down your chin and he groaned at the sight — eyes watery, hair tugged back by his hand.

“Such a good girl. Ah putain” he groaned.

His hips kept snapping forwards, you just take all he's giving you, showing just how much you want him. He fucked into your mouth until he’s shaking, breathing ragged, hands gripping your head tightly. You could feel he was close so you worked your tongue on his underside till he came, deep and hot, straight down your throat, and you took it all, greedily swallowing around him until he’s pulling you off.

You coughed when he pulled out, panting, trying to catch your breath as he swiped his thumb on your bottom lip.

“The prettiest thing i’ve ever seen” he whispered, reaching for his shirt on the bed to wipe the spit off your chin.

He flopped down on the bed and tugged you with him, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I would actually love to stay here with you but we have to go. Have a flight to catch” you told him, voice a little hoarse.

Isack whined, complained for a while, made you fall apart on his fingers in the shower — then you were off to Paris, finally back home after a triple header.

Your wait at the airport would’ve been easy and quiet, if you weren’t actually so insatiable, moving to whisper insanely inappropriate things in his ear from time to time. A couple of people from the team approached him for some last congratulations for his weekend — they ruffled his hair, patted him on the back and everything, treating him almost like a child.

And you just couldn’t help yourself. “Do you think they’d treat you like that if they knew how fucking deep you were fucking my throat just an hour ago?” you whispered to his ear, smirking and squirming in your seat.

He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks and making you look up at him. “What is going on with you, huh?”

You just smiled, clearly enjoying the way he was grabbing your face. He scoffed when you didn’t answer, letting go of your face slightly roughly.

Isack noticed how you kept squirming in your seat even after you boarded the plane. At first he thought you were cold, so he took off his hoodie and placed it on your lap — but when you kissed to thank him he realized that wasn’t it. Your lips were warm and you let out a sound, one that could barely be heard over the plane engine, but he felt the vibration.

You both settled back, though. It was only after take off that he let his hand make its way to your lap. You look up, but he’s still looking forward, ignoring you as if his hand isn’t up your thigh, already brushing the hem of your shorts. You shift on your seat, making his hand brush up against your middle.

Your legs parted instinctively, just enough, and his fingers traced the edge of your underwear, only the hoodie over your legs hiding his hand. He pressed them right to your middle, pushing a shaky breath out of you.

“I could make you come right here” he whispered, “just have to be quiet. Can you do it?”

You looked around, heart pounding. Most people were sleeping, the engine loud enough that if you let a moan slip no one would hear — you nodded.

His fingers dipped lower, circling your while just to get his fingers wet and tease you.

Your hips started rocking slowly into his hand when his fingers met your clit. Your head tipped back against the seat, your breaths shaky as you tried to control them.

Soon you were squirming in the seat, holding back moans as you grabbed his arm, tightly to ground yourself. “Isack” you whined.

“Just do it. No one’s gonna see you, I promise.”

His fingers moved faster, pressing hard and acting distracted till you came.You squirmed quietly in your seat, biting your lip to hold any noise in.

“Feel better, now?”

You nodded, shifting on your seat as he pulled his hand away, but not without giving it a firm tap, over your shorts. He noticed how you were still trembling, your chest rising and falling in shaky breaths, so he didn't tease you about it. He held his arm out, offering his shoulder as a pillow and you took it. Your arms wrapped around his and he felt you melting onto his side and tucked your head under his, placing a kiss on your head.

“Didn’t think I could shut you up” he mumbled.

You just groaned, too far gone to answer, and he smiled at your state, shifting you to hold you closer. Once your legs were laid out across his and you were curled up against his chest with a hand on your back for support he kissed your hair again.

You just let him hold you, enjoying the way his thumb caressed your back and his heartbeat right against your ear. At last you pressed your lips against his chest, over the fabric of his shirt.

“‘M sorry I said your dick was cute” you mumbled and felt him chuckle.

When you got off the plane you were still quiet — and all the way through the airport and even when you got to his place. He was carrying all of your things, noticing how sluggishly you were moving.

Even when you got inside, he was hurrying to get all the bags inside so he could just be home. You walked straight in — but when he found you you were standing at the door of his room, just staring in as if you had forgotten what you were doing.

He just laughed under his breath, wrapping his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder then whispered, “did I break you?”

You barely answered, just hummed, not even yes or no, but he kissed your shoulder, pushing you into the room. He got your clothes off and put you in a clean shirt of his, there was no way he could’ve gotten you to shower in that state. Took his off as well and soon you were both in bed, his body curled up behind yours, holding you close.

Isack rested a hand on your stomach, then kissed your neck, “you’re so quiet” he noted and you only hummed again, he chuckled “so I did break you.”

It must have been less than an hour, probably about forty minutes, before you were rubbing yourself on him again. It was involuntary, really, you were just dreaming and the heat traveled down your body.

It woke him up. His breath caught on his throat when he looked down and saw your ass, only covered by your panties pressing against his crotch. Your movements were slow, nothing too intense, but enough for his cock to be interested.

He tried to pull away, tried to let you sleep but every time he pulled back your body just sought his again. You were going to drive him insane, he would never do something while you were asleep, not when you have never mentioned anything about it. So he had to wake you up.

“Baby” he called softly, kissing your shoulder — you didn’t budge. “Chérie” this time his hand traveled up under your shirt, reaching your chest. You hummed, shifting slightly. “Look what you’re doing to me, ma belle”

You shifted again when you heard the french words, this time turning your body to face his. You hummed a little, placing a kiss on his neck. “Was having a good dream” you mumbled.

“I could tell” he chuckled, pulling you closer.

“Wanna make it come true?” you teased, speaking right into his ear.

“Oh, fuck you. You spent the morning whispering absolutely filth to me in public, just to go completely silent after a single orgasm and now you wake me up asking for more?” you nodded. “Need me to fuck you till you’re numb again? Is that it?”

You nodded again “please”.

He was already kissing your neck, brushing your hair away and moving to hover your body. “Wanna tell me what your dream was like while I do this?” he teased, kissing down your body. You didn’t think he was serious until he stopped right before taking off your panties, looking back up at you and waiting. “C'mon, tell me”

You breath was shaky as you started, his hands resuming their work. “We were in the shower, like earlier” He took off your underwear, your breath caught in your throat when he blew air against your wet cunt.

“Keep going” he encouraged, licking a strip up your slit.

“Shower” you managed and he kissed your clit. “But I was sucking–“ a moan escaped your lips “Fuck, Isa” you dropped your hand to his hair, but he stopped everything.

“Tell me about it and I’ll keep going.”

You groaned “Fuck. I was on my knees,” he licked you again, grabbing your thighs and throwing them behind his shoulders, “I- I was making you feel good. Ah!” His lips wrapped around your clit, “it was messy, but- but I was so wet for you. You made me beg.”

“Yeah? What else?” he spoke against your cunt, his nose brushing against your clit and the vibration traveling up your body.

You could feel it coming up, your high already close, making it hard to concentrate but you knew that if you stopped he would too. “I was touching you. My hands we-were all over your abs” you moaned, “you know how much I love touching your body”

“You always make it very clear” he whispered against your thigh before taking your clit into his mouth.

“Isa, please. So close” you whined.

“Keep telling me about it, baby”

“God! You were holding my hair, pulling on it, then– ah!” a moan ripped through you, “gonna come, Isack, fuck!”

You tugged tightly on his hair, shoving him deeper into your cunt as if it was even possible. His thumb pressed on your whole, making everything more intense — your legs shook around his shoulders, your abs clenched and your head was thrown back as the waves of pleasure washed over you.

Isack lifted his head from between your legs, kissing up your body sweetly, and pushing up your shirt. “So?”

You smiled up at him, confused “So?”

“So I was pulling your hair, then?” he teased, lowering down to kiss at your neck.

“Then you came right down my throat” you whispered, voice sultry to drive him insane, “took me to bed and fucked me like an animal, with my head shoved in the pillows and my ass in the air”

He smiled onto your neck, “I like your dreams.”

Isack pulled away, kneeling up and reaching for a condom in his night stand. You watched him, taking off his shirt, his boxers and finally rolling the condom down on his cock.

“Really waiting for me to do everything?” he teased, slapping your bare thigh “C’mon, get on your knees.”

You bit your lip, turning your body over and kneeling. Your face was on his pillow, cheek pressed up against it, you’d be drooling in no time, he didn’t care. Not when your ass was up in the air for him, your back arched impossibly low as you swayed from side to side, teasing.

Isack couldn’t help but give it a firm slap, earning a loud gasp from you. “You like this way too much”

“Isack, please” you whined, your cunt clenching around nothing while he brushed his cock up and down your slit.

“Fucking insatiable” he murmured to himself.

Then you felt it — his cock pushing in, stretching your walls so fucking perfectly. You both moaned in relief, enjoying the way your bodies melted together. His hand ran down your back, shoving your shirt back up so he could see the curve of your waist, he was just waiting for you to adjust.

So when you pressed your ass back into his crotch, he knew you were ready. Isack would love to say that he built his pace slowly, controlling his hips, but that just wasn’t the case, that day he started his thrusts already roughly, and you didn’t complain.

It was like you were made to take, all of him at any pace, as hard as he could, it didn’t matter, you would take it. Your hand dropped down to your clit, circling it tightly as Isack fucked into you. You needed to come again, as soon as possible, that was all you wanted.

When Isack pressed his thumb to your asshole you were gone — he wasn’t penetrating, just pressing like a button, circling it. So with his thumb on your ass, his cock fucking you restesly and your fingers working your clit you came in no time — walls clenching around him and limbs giving up in seconds.

Isack moaned loudly when you squeezed him, and he quickly realized your knees had given out. So he quickly pulled out, pushing your hips to the side and making you fall on your back. You shared a look, just to confirm that you were still okay before he fucked his dick back into you.

At that point your mind was mostly empty, all you could think about was Isack, how his body moved, how full he was making you feel and how his abs glistened with the thin layer of sweat. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, holding you in place while his other hand dropped to your middle.

His fingers worked your clit with such ease and skill, right on the nub, the overly sensitive spot that made you squirm and moan for him and that’s exactly what he wanted. Isack was incredibly close, but he needed you to come for him just one last time, he didn’t want to leave you on the edge.

So he changed his approach — his thrusts became deeper and slower, he was using his strength now, his fingers still working your clit till he pushed you over the edge. He felt you clenching first, then the full body shakes that triggered his own orgasm, and, finally, the liquid on his fingers.

He groaned when he realized you were squirting, watching the way your body drowned in pleasure. Your moans were so incredibly erotic, something out of a porn video and he could barely believe that he was the one causing that.

“Ah, putain, ma chérie. So fucking perfect.” he praised, caressing your thigh as you came down from you high. “Satisfied now?” You just hummed and he smiled, he had met his goal. “Good. You made a mess, so I would suggest a shower, but you’re too far gone now, huh?” he spoke practically to himself, knowing you wouldn’t give him anything more than a hum for an answer.

He pulled out slowly, climbing off the bed. You usually took very good care of Isack, not only after these moments but everyday, so he felt the need to take special good care of you too.

Isack did everything he could before going back to bed with you. He straightened the sheets around you, pulled the drool covered pillow from under your head, replaced it, wiped your legs and your cunt and brought you water. He even made sure to turn the temperature down because after all that work you were both covered in sweat.

When he was done he curled up back behind you, tugging you close and letting his hand rest on your stomach. You covered it with yours, letting him know you were okay.

“Thanks. I love you” you whispered.