#*said while jumping up and down and clapping*

[sevsevteen]

hi!! love reading your stuff so much!! if its okay, can you do one where 14th member gets her period without realizing during rehearsal and then is just mad and screams at everyone lmao but then when she storms out the guys see the stain on her pants and pamper her? its kinds specific ig lol but just ignore this if you don’t feel comfy writing this kind of stuff!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hello darling! I've never thought about this before. Writing was deffo so interesting and i loved it. Periods are completely normal, but of course there are always people who want to keep them lowkey - which is the readers' case!! enjoy reading~

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

“Alright! One more run-through before break!” the choreographer called, clapping her hands.

The stage echoed with heavy breaths and squeaky shoes against the wooden floors. Sweat dripped down the members’ backs, but the energy was still high - it always was when they were preparing for a live stage.

You had been fine just ten minutes ago.

Focused, in sync, doing your best as always.

Until a twinge of something unmistakably familiar bloomed low in your stomach - a dull cramp that made you flinch mid-step.

You cursed under your breath.

Moving to the back row during the choreo reset silently, your heart pounded. Your hands trembled slightly as you pretended to adjust your mic pack, quickly tugging your hoodie up from the back to peek at your backside.

Your stomach dropped.

A blotch of dark red had bloomed across the seat of your white trousers. It was faint, but obvious against the pale fabric.

You froze, panic settling in your bones - you tracked your menstruation, you always did. But this one came way earlier than you'd expected.

Nature called, right?

Your face flushed both white and red at the same time, overcome by the embarrassment of having to declare such a personal detail and walk off mid-set.

Just one more song. You told yourself to hold until lunch break, all while your mood turned sharp. You could only stay toward the back, unusually quiet, limbs suddenly hesitant to make any sudden movement that would expose you.

“You were off-beat before, don’t slack just because you’re tired!” Hoshi called out from the front.

You only nodded.

“Don’t ignore us!” Seungkwan teased, practically jumping over to grabbing your wrist, trying to pull you to the front. “C’mon, center! You’re the visual, remember?”

“No, it's fine-” You frantically shook your head, pulling and scratching at Seungkwan's hand to let go as you leaned back, shoes dragging against the wood.

A few others chimed in.

“Stop sulking and get up here.”

“Don’t hide in the back, you look grumpy~”

“Guys, don’t drag her-” Joshua started gently, sensing the shift in your expression.

But it was too late, a surge of frustration boiling over.

“Can you all just stop?!” You snapped, voice coming out sharper than you intended. “I said I didn’t want to be in front!”

The members fell silent, a few staff halting mid-action to peek at your business.

The boys blinked, taken aback - not because you yelled, but because it wasn’t like you.

Anger was replaced with embarrassment when you pulled away, hard. A string of curses leaving your mouth as you bolted off the stage, nearly tripping as you ran.

The area remained frozen for a second. And it was only when Vernon, who was closest to your back when you ran, caught a glimpse of the stain.

His eyes widened. “…Shit.”

That was all it took.

Immediately, everyone went into quiet panic mode.

“Where are the extra sweats?”

“Jihoon, where’s her bag?”

“I’ll get pads - there’s a convenience store downstairs!” Mingyu grabbed his wallet and bolted.

“Chan, check if she’s in the washroom!”

Joshua ran to grab a jacket in case you needed to cover up. “Why didn’t we notice sooner?”

.

You sat curled up on the small couch in the waiting room, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands, legs tucked beneath you. Fortunately, one of the female dancers had an extra pair of shorts, so you didn't need to waddle around in your stained pants.

The pain had dulled with the heat pack resting on your stomach, but the sting in your chest lingered - not from the cramps, but the guilt.

Plus, your face was still red - more from humiliation than anything.

You replayed the scene in your head over and over. The fierce push. The shocked looks on their faces. The way you ran.

They were just joking. You didn’t have to lash out.

You sighed quietly, burying your face in the crook of your arm.

But then came the soft knock, and the door creaked open.

Seokmin peeked in first. “...We come in peace?”

You perked up, surprised to Seungkwan holding up what looked like a paper bag with doodles and stickers all over it.

You blinked. “What is that?”

“The solution to all future period emergencies,” Dino announced proudly.

“Painkillers, chocolate, gummy bears, pads in every size and style, heat packs, an extra changes of sweatpants, a random rom-com book I grabbed off the shelves, a comb, a mini mirror–” Hoshi listed off like he was presenting a war strategy.

“And a tiny plushie for emotional support,” Seokmin added, holding up a doa plush.

“You guys…” You whispered, voice small. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“You thought we’d be mad?” Joshua asked gently, crouching down to your level. “You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. You don’t have to hide it from us.”

“For our member, whose pain we can’t feel but whose heart we’ll always protect.” Jeonghan stroked your head gently.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes - not from pain, but from the rush of relief. Of being seen. Of being loved, even at your most vulnerable.

“You guys are too much,” you wiped your eyes with a sleeve.

“Yeah, well,” Vernon shrugged. “So are your cramps.”

Laughter erupted - gentle and healing. You finally smiled wide, hugging the emergency kit to your chest. The embarrassment melted - not erased, but surrounded by so much love that it didn’t hurt quite as much.

Maybe bleeding through your pants once wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen.

--

[dollyswishingwell]

throws s coin in da wishing well.. heheh… I WISSH.. WISSSHHHHH.. lads boys with a reader whos in an idol group? bouncing up all over the stage in cute outfits and singing happily as the crowd cheers.. bonus points if they didn’t know because they arent in the idol scene lol :D

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ J-pop

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, i tried my best yall, i did this with a jpop idol in mind, i do have requests for kpop so that’ll be soon

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The boys with a J-pop idol reader

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

OH he knew.

He knew before you did. Idol? Popstar? Baby girl bouncing in glitter heels on a glowing stage? He manifested that.

He’s already drawn 500 fanart illustrations of you. Runs a secret art blog under a pseudonym where he lovingly analyzes your costume designs.

One time, he came to your show in full glam with a fanlight, headband, and face stickers. He cried during your solo stage. Security tried to remove him. He said “I am the husband. I am not leaving.”

“LOOK at her!! She did the little hip pop!! She winked!! She is divine!!!”

He brings you flowers after every concert. Sneaks into dressing rooms. Tells your makeup team how to contour your blush better. Demands your new solo be titled “Princess of My Heart (Rafayel’s Cutie Edition).”

One time he went ballistic on a gossip site that said your vocals were “okay but not strong” and started an internet war that trended #1 for three days.

“SHE’S AN ANGEL. SAY IT. SAY IT LOUDER.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

He had no clue. Thought you worked in “the music industry” in like… an admin or assistant role. You did mention late-night practices and costume fittings, but he just assumed you were some kind of production manager.

So when a patient’s daughter is watching a performance on her tablet and he glances over during rounds only to see YOU, glitter-streaked and bouncing around in thigh-highs and a pink puff mini dress—

“…What.”

He does not blink for a full ten seconds.

“Is that, excuse me. Pause that. Rewind. What’s the name of that group?”

He goes into full private investigator mode. Comes home that night stone-faced. You’re like “hi honey!!” and he deadpans:

“You. On the stage. The sparkles. The outfit. Was that… you?”

He is so betrayed and confused but also deeply stunned that you’re that girl. The crowd chanting your name. The fan cams. The high ponytail whip. You.

You catch him watching a 12-minute fancam of you performing “Honey Prism Jetstar” while cross-referencing your tour dates with your “practice nights.”

He’s not mad. He’s just flustered. And now… a little obsessed.

“So when you told me you ‘had rehearsals’… you were actually preparing to drop-kick into a glitter cannon in front of 20,000 people. Hm. Good to know.”

He won’t tell you this, but he bought all your merch the next day.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

He actually does know what idols are… just not this kind. He thought you were doing “celestial melody offerings” or “aether-channeling dances.”

So when he catches you live on a massive city billboard in a hyper-cute outfit with bubble fonts that say “CATCH THE SPARK!! TOUR STARTS NOW!!” he just stares blankly at the screen for a full minute.

“…That is not spiritual dancewear.”

Suddenly he’s like an alien studying Earth pop culture. He sits down with a furrowed brow and watches every single one of your performances, slowly realizing this is not some divine ritual, this is an industry. A very sparkly one.

“I saw you do three mid-air jumps, three spins, and wink at the crowd. Did you… train for combat? Or was that purely to be adorable?”

He becomes your weirdest, most affectionate hype man. Has no idea what’s going on but claps every time you twirl. Thinks your bunny-ear hoodie is a “symbol of power.”

Insists on walking you to practice like some bodyguard husband.

“If anyone touches you backstage, I will vaporize them.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You once said you were in “entertainment.” He assumed you meant like… background investor or studio executive.

Until one of his underlings nervously drops a report file with your idol trading card sticking out of it.

“…What the hell is this.”

Cue Sylus stopping the entire meeting and storming off to his office, pulling up every video, clip, and fan page. There you are, smiling so sweetly, throwing heart signs. You even winked into the camera. His girl. Acting all sweet and innocent on a Jumbotron.

He. Is. Shocked.

“You’ve been out there singing songs about ‘candy rainbows’ while I’m out here managing arms deals? In what world?!”

Cue instant ownership mode. He shows up to your concert in an all-black suit and dark shades like some VIP villain boss backstage. Refuses to sit in the crowd.

You run off stage, breathless and giddy, and he just crosses his arms, unimpressed:

“You forgot to tell me you were famous. I don’t like surprises.”

But you catch him replaying your slow-motion twirl like 37 times and smiling to himself.

He now owns your entire photocard collection in a gold-edged binder.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

He doesn’t have social media. Doesn’t follow trends. Just thought you liked “dancing and working out with friends.”

One day, your face gets projected 300ft tall onto the Skyhaven Tower to advertise your upcoming world tour. He happens to be inside the building. Mid-meeting. Sees you spinning with a sparkling mic and doing that adorable little “chu~” pose.

“…Excuse me.”

He walks out of his own briefing.

Finds your official channel. Watches every performance in dead silence.

The next time he sees you, he doesn’t say anything for a full minute. Just stands there, arms crossed, giving you this intense look.

“That crowd… was cheering your name. Are they always that loud?”

He starts accompanying you to every live event with a straight face. Secretly terrifying your manager. Wears his uniform. Refuses to sit unless he can be front row.

If a fan so much as yells too loud, he tenses.

“Why are they yelling. That’s too close.”

At home he’s soft about it. You’re bouncing around in your costume and he just tugs you onto his lap.

“You looked cute, pips. You always do.”

[chan-hvgs]

The photos above are not mine! They're from pinterest and belong to their rightful owners.

Ship(s)/Characters: (Husband!)Han Jisung x (GN!)Reader

Word count: 783

CW: Domestic Fluff, Soft chaos couple energy™, Crack, threats to fight, kisses, Pet names (gender neutral), hiccups

Summary: When you came down with terrible hiccups, Jisung found.. Interesting ways to help you

You have tried everything. Holding your breath? Check. Drinking water? Check. Getting scared? Check. Breathing exercises? Check. And these stupid hiccups Won’t. Go. Away. They were literally driving you crazy. Your husband noticed just how much stress they were costing you and immediately began to brainstorm up ways to help you. He sat next to you on the couch, cracking his knuckles. “Ok Mr. Herald the hiccups, you’ve overstayed your welcome.” He grumbled “Not to mention this is MY partner. you can’t have them” You smiled, immediately another hiccup broke out, watching as Jisung gawked at the sound as if he had been personally offended. “OH!? Is this what we’re doing?” He huffed “I asked you kindly to stop” He sighed, clenching his hands into fist, holding them in front of his face “I’ll fight, don’t try me” You giggled in between hiccup’s, setting your hands on his muscular arms. “To do that, you’d have to punch me… so...” the male pouted but reluctantly put his arms down.

“Hmmmm…” Jisung mumbled, hand on his chin as he thought “Hey Herald, keep going, don’t stop torturing them, don’t you dare stop” Well, where Jisung was trying to use reverse psychology, the hiccups took that as a challenge and started to become more frequent, stronger and faster. Causing Han to groan and grip his hair into fist’s “Herold please! They don’t deserve thisssss” He whined, almost seeming like the hiccups were inconveniencing him more than you. He grabbed your cheeks and stared dramatically at your lips. “Herold, I know you're in there. Come fight me like a real man, or hiccup I guess. Whatever, doesn't matter, let’s fight.”

The next thing you knew, Jisung was hanging off the couch, his head on the floor and his legs thrown on the couch cushions. “Ever think about how we’re teeny tiny little specks in the universe and we’re just floating on a rock in space and that we don’t even know half of what’s on it? Like the ocean is freaking deep man.” You look at him, about to say something when you hiccup again. He smiled, nodding. Gasping as if it was some monumental information “Cool. thanks… I agree,” He hummed “Have you ever thought about being a philosopher? Your way of words are so wise. I'm putting them in a song.” You roll your eyes, pushing his legs off the couch, causing him to roll onto the floor with a small thump.

When he said that about a song, you thought he was kidding. He wasn’t. He bounded from the couch, running to get his guitar and running back, singing possibly the most unserious song you've ever heard. The cords were soft as if he was trying to serenade ‘Herald’ as he calls them, out of you. It didn’t work and wound up with him annoyed that he couldn't get a line out without getting interrupted by a hiccup. “Herald, you must know that interrupting an artist while they're performing is incredibly rude! Where are your manners?” He pouted “Now you’re Herold the hiccuping heckler” You giggle, rolling your eyes.

He dropped to the floor and crawled onto his knees, clapping his hands together in prayer. “Whatever upper being is listening to me, pretty pretty please with a cherry on top take these hiccups away from my partner, they are the best to me.. They do really good things like clean, and take care of animals and pick up litter, And they do, like, good things. Please, please, please leave them be” He begged, collapsing onto his back on the carpet with defeat when it didn’t work.

He jumped up and sat on the couch next to you, hugging you close to him and kissing your lips quickly, catching you by surprise. He suddenly whispered softly, deadly serious. “Transfer” He pulled away and waited, the room was still, silent, as you held your breath. Your hiccups were gone, they were finally gone! He stood, about to celebrate when his shoulders hitched and then “Hic!” He froze, eyes wide. A small sound escaping his throat as he collapsed to the floor. Causing you to break down in laughter “No no no, I didn’t actually mean it!” He stood again, trying to hug you again “take them back! I don’t want your stupid hiccup germs!” You smile, standing before taking off down the hall, Jisung on your tail. “And I don’t want them either!” You giggle, running into the bedroom and locking the door as his back smashed into it. He slid down the door, hiccuping miserably. And from your side of the door, all you could do was giggle as his muffled hiccups echoed into the night.

(A/N: Some of the fluff you were promised lol! Han is so fun to write! I hope you enjoy! This was my first time really writing crack so I hope it worked! As always feel free to send a request! Remember to eat and drink water, you are loved! Thank you so much for reading! Love y’all -🐝)

[carnations-fixations]

MnnMM!!! My PHRasee!!!!! I'm a good toy!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm a good toy!!! hhhhhhashhhlkjlfjs I'm a good toy!!!!!!!!!!

One of the joys of being a domme is waking up to so many messages, asks, and reblogs from all manner of folk; dolls, plushies, puppies, kittens, toys, drones, subjects, pets, and more.

So, would you be good and leave a little something for me to open and read when I wake up tomorrow? I love responding and bringing a little big of magic to people's day.

[flailypichu]

Um, the universe wants me to be happy right now. I just finished watching Due South last week and have been obsessed. Today my husband and I stopped by the local used music shop and happened to look at the DVDs and they had the complete series? For $5 each season? Two of them are still shrink wrapped?

[bookwyrminspiration]

I'm gonna be honest I'm like 10 chapters in and I am HORRIBLY confused but I am often confused when reading books with a lot of stuff in it and. This one has a lot of stuff. I like it though 👍 (even if it does feel like I picked up the second one instead of the first)

don't worry, you're supposed to be confused! I'd be surprised and question whether you were actually reading the book if you weren't.

part of it is just that the world is both completely new and very complex and part of it is that it's a complex plot related to a lot of information you don't have yet (and aren't supposed to have, as you're intended to discover it through trial and error alongside the characters).

these are the kinds of books where you're meant to reread them, since info you learn later changes your understanding of what's happening now, even though you don't know it yet. Lyons is quite thorough with it. but i promise it does make sense with time! I can even identify who the main characters are now!

anyway, glad to hear you're liking it!! it's not for everyone, but I am thrilled to share it with anyone curious. I'm going to explode :)

[seongwars]

Word Count: 497 Warnings: yandere!Caleb, dad!Caleb, dash of fluff, hints of breeding kink, baby trapping and coercion, 2 swear words, mention of pregnancy, not proofread Summary: Caleb comes home from another expedition

a/n: I had to take a break from writing strangers by nature because i was making myself sad so uhh here's a caleb drabble

“Daddy’s home!”

Your four year old jumped up from his Legos, bolting to the door with your chubby toddler hot on his heels. The front door creaked open just in time for Caleb to brace himself as the boys launched into his arms.

It wasn’t easy, being the wife of the fleet’s colonel. Caleb’s expeditions often kept him away for weeks at a time, leaving you to hold down the fort with your two boys and the endless chaos they brought with them.

But moments like this made it all worth it. Seeing the way the boys lit up as they reunited with their father made all the waiting worth it. Not to mention the nasty, sloppy, back bending, toe curling, eye rolling, reunion sex–hence your five month baby bump.

Despite the exhaustion etched into his features, Caleb still made time for all of you. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t miss a parent teacher conference, who insisted on reading every bedtime story no matter how tired he was. 

On Saturday mornings, he’d stand in the kitchen, attempting to make dinosaur shaped pancakes while the boys watched in awe.

“Daddy, how do you do that?” your four year old learned forward on the counter with his elbows. Beside him, your two-year-old waved his chubby hands in the air, babbling his own version of the question.

“It’s all in the flick of the wrist, buddy,” Caleb grinned, flipping the pancake. 

Sometimes the “dinosaur” ended up looking more like a blob, but to the boys, it was nothing short of magic. They clapped and cheered as Caleb plated his creation, declaring it a Whateversaurus Rex or the dinosaur of the day as conjured by your husband. 

And so, yes, you’d let this man keep you pregnant. How could you not? Every time you thought about saying no, about maybe slowing down and letting your body recover between pregnancies, he’d look at you with those adoring puppy eyes and pull you into his strong arms, leaving you utterly undone.

But you didn’t notice the way his eyes darkened when you said yes again, or the way his touch lingered just a second too long on the curve of your belly. To you, it was devotion, a husband marveling at the miracle of life, his love for you and your growing family. 

But to him, it was victory.

Because Caleb wasn’t just a loving husband. He was a man who refused to let you slip through his fingers. The thought of you walking away, of a life where you weren’t his in every sense of the word, was unthinkable.  

Everytime he had you folded into a mating press murmuring “just one more for me, baby" he was ensuring that you stayed right where you belonged—bound to him in every possible way as he fucked his seed over and over into your cunt.

You belonged to him. And he’d make sure it stayed that way forever.

[merakidoll]

the third part to porn star!toji, the other two are on my m.list 🎀

“what a good pussy” toji held your legs that were pressed together back so that they were by your ears. you bitting your lip and letting out long moans that could never be faked when you were with him. you and toji had quickly became one of the most popular duos on the porn sight. something about your innocent face and act being able to take the big, buff, mean man, and not a lot could say they did. another thing was toji never ever did multiple videos with one person. but you? oh, now he only wanted to film with you. “be rougher toji” you heartbeat sped up at the sound of his wife’s voice. your nails digging into his skin making little dents as your cream made a mess all over the faux dinner set up.

a cook and the hot waitress. the white hat on toji head moved, but never came off as he spead up his pace. your blue apron dress was pushed up to be over your tits, then bouncing with every pump. the sound of your wetness and skin clapping had everyone paying attention, the sight being one that was beautiful. “f-fuckkk” you cried, camera man two coming close to get a video of your teary face, then the view of toji going in and out of you. his balls slapped your ass, and with small grunts passing his lips. your head lolled to the side where you were met with the crew. your orgasm was right there. toji sensing it with how you quieted down, but your pussy got louder. “you there princess?” you bit your lip turning to look at him. slowing himself down, he bent forward, so that his breath fanned against you.

“wanna make that pretty pussy cum for daddy or what?” his words made your tummy tighten. “ohgoddd!!” using your hand to try to push him your eyes closed, pussy creaming nice and deliciously around him making a bit of a mess against the table. “not god baby, just toji” bitting his lip he let a growl out, his head turning to look at the camera as he slapped your ass making eye contact with his wife. as he stared at her, he fucked you through another orgasm while stuffing your cunt full of his load. he couldn’t help but smirk as she winked at him, groaning when you clenched down. “and scene” the room clapped while toji rolled his eyes, putting his attention back upon you.

he slowly pulled out of you, his cock limp and resting on his thigh. a smirk was on his face watching your body still quiver, and the harsh breaths you took. “always so good for me angle” he cooed quietly taking the robe form you assistant and shooing her off. still, he was immersed with how the mix of you two dripped from your cunt. “so good for us” a voice said making you jump and toji laugh. you watched his wife walk up to you both with a small smile on her face. “unt un wouldn’t wanna waste that now would we?” you were confused at first - looking around at the now empty set wondering what she was talking about. it wasn’t until you felt her finger scoop up the cum and push it back inside of you. her fingers rubbing against your gummy soft walls making your legs shake, a soft cry coming from you. and toji watched with a smirk the whole time.

you were shocked. what was happening? but you were loving every second of it. in the next moments still pumping her fingers in and out of you, she leaned down kissing you. your tounges swirled together as something slipped into your mouth, to which you moaned swallowing it; then she pulled back with a smirk. “plan b. don’t want you pregnant just yet” with a peck to your lips she walked away. leaving toji to pick up your shocked frame and whisper how you were theirs.

what was happening?

[yoursaltyqueen]

you realize you’re in love with bucky barnes… and everyone else already knew.

It hit you on a random Tuesday afternoon.

Not during a battle, not during one of those late-night talks when Bucky let his walls down — no.

It happened in the kitchen.

You walked in half-asleep, hair a mess, wearing one of Sam’s old hoodies (because it was huge and cozy and he always pretended to be annoyed when you stole it). And there was Bucky, standing by the stove, humming something under his breath while flipping pancakes.

Pancakes.

The Winter Soldier was making pancakes.

His hair was pulled back loosely, little strands falling into his face, and he looked… soft. At peace. Like he belonged in this tiny kitchen with sunlight streaming through the window and your favorite song playing faintly from his phone.

And it just hit you.

Like a truck.

Like every cheesy love song and dumb rom-com moment you’d ever made fun of.

You were in love with him.

Hopelessly, stupidly, heart-achingly in love with Bucky Barnes.

“Uh oh,” came Natasha’s voice from behind you.

You jumped, nearly knocking over a chair. “Jesus, Nat—”

She gave you a slow, knowing smirk, crossing her arms. “Took you long enough.”

Your face burned. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sweetheart, I’m a spy. I notice things.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “The heart eyes? The way you smile every time he enters a room? Classic case.”

You groaned, covering your face. “It’s that obvious?”

Nat just patted your back. “To everyone except Bucky. But hey — Captain Oblivious makes pancakes. That’s something.”

You risked another glance.

Bucky was now trying (and failing) to stack the pancakes neatly. He muttered a curse under his breath when one slid off the plate, and something warm bloomed in your chest.

Sam sauntered in next, sunglasses still on despite being indoors. He took one look at your red face and snorted. “Well, well, well. Look who finally joined the party.”

“Not you too,” you groaned.

Sam clapped a hand on your shoulder, grinning. “Oh, c’mon. Steve and I made a bet about when you’d figure it out.”

Your eyes widened. “Steve—?”

“Yeah,” came the deep voice from the hallway. Steve Rogers appeared with a cup of coffee, looking far too smug for someone so wholesome. “I said it’d take you until summer. Sam said spring.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Pay up, Rogers. It’s spring.”

As Steve dug out a crumpled twenty from his wallet, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

Meanwhile, Bucky finally noticed the gathering. He turned around, blinking in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Everyone immediately schooled their faces.

“Nothing,” they all chorused too quickly.

You cleared your throat, trying to act normal even though your heart was pounding like a drum. “Uh—pancakes smell great, Buck.”

His lips quirked into that rare, soft smile — the one that always made your chest tighten. “Made ‘em for you,” he mumbled, eyes flickering away shyly. “Figured you might be hungry.”

And just like that, the world tilted again.

Nat smirked behind her mug. Sam waggled his eyebrows. Steve just sighed like a tired dad watching his kids be idiots.

You were in so much trouble.

And you were so, so in love with him.

By the time you escaped to your room, you were convinced your friends were conspiring against you.

Natasha’s smirks. Sam’s dramatic eyebrow raises. Steve’s disappointed dad sighs.

All because you’d realized — far too late — that you were in love with Bucky Barnes.

You flopped face-first onto your bed with a groan. “I’m doomed.”

“You are,” came Nat’s voice. You lifted your head just enough to see her leaning casually in your doorway, arms crossed and looking far too smug for your liking.

“You need to tell him,” she said simply.

You scoffed. “Tell him? Are you out of your mind? This is Bucky we’re talking about. The guy who shuts down when someone even mentions feelings. I can’t—”

“You can. And you will,” Nat said, pushing off the doorframe. “Because if I have to watch you make heart eyes at him over pancakes again, I might actually puke.”

You threw a pillow at her. She caught it with ease.

“Nat—he doesn’t feel the same. He’s… closed off. And broken and—”

Her expression softened, all teasing gone. “And so are you. But you found each other, didn’t you?” She stepped closer, voice quieter now. “You steady him. He smiles more when you’re around. He’s softer. You’re not imagining it.”

Your heart squeezed. “You really think…?”

Natasha rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know it. And honestly? You both deserve something good. So go get it.”

Your mouth was dry, heart pounding, but before you could overthink it, you found yourself walking out of the room, down the hallway, and right to the balcony where Bucky usually disappeared when things got too loud.

And there he was.

Leaning on the railing, hair loose, metal fingers tapping a rhythm against the iron. The sunset cast gold across his face, making him look even more unfairly beautiful.

“Bucky?” you croaked.

He turned, and the second his blue eyes met yours, your knees nearly gave out.

“Hey, doll,” he said softly. That pet name, the one that always made your heart stutter. “Everything okay?”

No. Yes. Absolutely not.

“I—I need to tell you something,” you blurted out, hands shaking. “And if I don’t do it now, I might chicken out and never say it.”

His brow furrowed, concern flickering in his eyes. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, Nat’s voice echoing in your head.

Go get it.

“I’m in love with you.”

There. Out in the open. No take-backs.

Bucky’s eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like he was trying to process it.

“I know you’re closed off and scared,” you rushed on, heart racing. “And I get it, Bucky. But I had to say it. Because I’m tired of pretending like I’m not completely gone for you.”

Silence.

Your heart sank. Maybe you’d misread everything. Maybe—

But then—

Bucky crossed the space between you in two strides, cupping your face in both hands — one warm, one cool — and kissed you like he’d been waiting forever.

It wasn’t soft at first. It was desperate, a little clumsy, like he was pouring every wall he’d ever built into that kiss just so he could finally let it all go. And then it softened, his lips moving slower, gentler, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, Bucky pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I just didn’t think I deserved to say it out loud.”

Your breath hitched. “You—”

He kissed you again, cutting off your words.

Somewhere inside, you knew Natasha was probably watching from the window with the most smug look imaginable. Sam would owe her twenty bucks. Steve would finally stop sighing.

But right now, none of that mattered.

Right now, it was just you and Bucky, tangled up in golden light and stolen kisses, two broken people who finally realized they could be whole together.

[coffee-and-geto]

HOW CAN I LOVE WHEN I’M AFRAID TO FALL? - SATORU GOJO

“I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.”

pairing: CEO! satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: to your almost regret, your life as a single mother seems to be weighing more and more heavily on your worn-out shoulders. so what could be better than pretending to be the CEO’s girlfriend of the business you work for, knowing that his father is the general manager?

warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, her daughter is called hinata, fake dating/single mom tropes, angst, mother insecurities, fluff, reader’s ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, sex (p in v), overstimulation, pussy drunk (satoru), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (m), this fic is (really slightly) inspired from the french book ‘un printemps pour te succomber’ by morgane moncomble, including therefore small similar dialogues.

wc: 10,154

“Can I taste the frosting?”

Your lips curve into a smile. “Of course, angel.” You crouch down and hand the spatula coated in pastel pink frosting to your five-year-old daughter. Her little fist wraps around the handle, and joy spreads across her angelic face like rays of sunshine. “So? How is it?”

“It’s so good!” she exclaims, and you chuckle.

“I’m glad you like it.” You glance at the clock in your kitchen. “I’ll put the frosting in the fridge. While the cake bakes, go back to playing, and I’ll call you to help decorate the cake as soon as it’s ready, okay?”

Hinata nods, blowing you a kiss that you return after a moment of surprised hesitation, your lips forming an “O”. Amid delighted laughter, she skips away, and you turn back to face the bowl of cake batter.

Why does it have to be so hard?

Every birthday, you hold back tears because who said ‘single mom’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘baking your own birthday cake so your daughter can sing to you’? But what hurts more — this, or seeing your flesh and blood envy her female friends who have their dads in their arms and their mothers content with their families?

The silence of loneliness can sometimes be louder than company.

“Happy birthday! Happy birthday, mama!” your daughter sings, clapping her hands as you blow out your candles in the warm, yet dimly lit, living room. “Come on, come on! Let’s eat the cake!”

With a knife, you cut two slices, one for each of you, and it only takes a few more minutes for both your mouths to be covered in pink frosting, with laughter echoing in the room. The heartache, briefly chased away by the short-lived joy, returns later that night when your daughter snuggles up in your arms in your double bed, which seems to be missing something.

Fuck, being a single mom is tough, you think as you wipe away the tears flooding your cheeks with the back of your hand. No one to support you, all the responsibilities fall on your shoulders, and now doubts about your daughter start invading your mind: “What if she blames you later for not having a father?”, “What if she thinks you’re a bad mom?”, “Do her friends at school say anything about you being the only unmarried woman among all the parents in her class?”

These thoughts have never stopped, not even during your pregnancy, whether about the weight gained or lost, or the changes in your body. Are these regrets? But how could you regret bringing such an angel into the world? Maybe it’s more about the lousy partner who left you the second he found out you were pregnant.

Probably the second option.

“WHERE IS MY SON?!”

A male voice thunders across the entire floor of the company. You jump, turning to one of your colleagues over the small partition set up for employee privacy. “Who’s yelling like that?” you whisper, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I heard it’s the new general manager…”

Your frown deepens. “Is that why they handed me the summary of our sales figures to drop off at the office upstairs?” To prove your point, you lift the massive stack of documents.

Your colleague presses his lips together, his eyes widening in a way that already gives you the answer. “Oh God, you’re the one in charge of that? Good luck. It’s to be delivered to the new director.”

A sigh escapes your lips.

For a start to the workweek, it seems you’re about to face the stormy mood of the new boss, who apparently brought his kid to the office. What a perfect beginning.

As usual, the upper floor is deserted, as it’s generally reserved for executives with direct ties to the company’s CEO. Few people take the elevator to reach the top floor of the skyscraper. Arriving in the lonely hallway, it should be a simple task to knock on the boss’s office door, drop off the elephant-weight stack of documents, and leave.

So why does the sound of running footsteps seem to be getting closer and closer behind you?

In a flash, a man dressed in a navy blue suit rushes past you, bumping your shoulder. He nearly topples the threatening stack of papers, but you manage, at the last second, to catch everything before you lose your balance. The young man opens the door to the women’s restroom, and before entering, he glances over his shoulder.

Never in your life have eyes made such an impression on you.

Two cerulean blue orbs lock onto yours with a mischievous aura. A smirk tugs at the corner of his thin, pink lips. From his pale skin to his albino hair, the man exudes charm and beauty from every pore. The sheer allure of his appearance leaves your brain too stunned to react, numbing it. How can someone be this handsome?

“SATORU!”

His serene and amused expression vanishes instantly, and you jump in response. Replaced by an exaggerated look of fear, he addresses you, “Cover for me. If he asks you, you never saw me!” And his tall, slender body disappears into the women’s restroom.

More footsteps echo down the hallway, this time from a second man, just as tall and physically similar to the young man you just encountered — though slightly older, with wrinkles lining his face and a mix of albino hair and silver from age. You have no time to react except to straighten up against the wall.

His blue eyes, more gray and stern, settle on you as he approaches. “Did you see a man? A tall idiot running around and flirting with any woman he sees,” he grumbles the last part, his eyes thoughtfully fixed on the light carpet.

You shake your head robotically. “No… I—”

“Never mind,” he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand — as if your answer is irrelevant and he’s heard it at least twenty times before. He sighs and scratches at the stubble on his chin. “Who are you, anyway?”

“An employee, sir.” You gesture to the stack of documents that’s beginning to make its weight known in your arms. “I was asked to drop this off in your office.” The tone of your voice almost pleads with him to let you in and relieve you of the annoying burden.

“The report? Ah yes, of course.” You sigh in relief as he unlocks the door with his keys. “I suppose you’re wondering who I am?”

“The new general manager, I guess?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. You drop the heavy stack onto the desk and exhale deeply. “We heard you on every floor.” You can’t help but chuckle at your own remark, offering the director an apologetic smile.

He rolls his eyes, but a light chuckle still rumbles in his chest. “You’re right. It’s because of my son.”

His son?

You repeat the word aloud, confused, and he clarifies. “My son is the new CEO of this company, and I almost regret my decision to give him that position.” He shakes his head, his gaze drifting toward the blue sky visible through the large window, then refocuses on you. “I apologize in advance. He’s going to be a real handful.”

“I understand. I think we’ll manage to put up with him,” you add with a smile.

In the end, this new boss doesn’t seem as strict as your colleagues have been saying, and his story about his son is more amusing than anything. You cough slightly into your elbow and clear your throat, murmuring an apology.

“Are you sick?” the director inquires.

“A little,” you admit reluctantly, feeling embarrassed as you adjust the mask on your face. “Sorry. I couldn’t stay home.”

“No problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “Well, I think I have some work to do. See you later, I suppose.”

You don’t hesitate to leave the boss’s office and quietly step into the women’s restroom. “Is… someone here?” you murmur in a hoarse voice.

The creaking of a door answers you, and the general manager’s son emerges from a stall, looking cautious. He looks like a little boy checking to see if his hiding spot in a game of hide-and-seek has been discovered, which makes you stifle a discreet giggle. He turns to you and offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t hurt you, did I, sweetheart?”

The nickname catches you off guard, and warmth floods your face. “N-No, I’m fine. You’re the new CEO, right?”

“Satoru Gojo, at your service, pretty girl.” He winks, a reminder that he’s quite the flirt.

You introduce yourself in return, running out of things to say, your hands nervously clasped by your sides.

“Pretty name,” Satoru murmurs. He closes the stall door behind him and exhales, shaking his head. “Phew! That was a close one! Thanks again!” He strides toward the exit with one last charming smile in your direction, leaving the restroom and a lingering scent of cologne behind him.

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Damn it, you’re so annoying with this!”

“There’s no point in moving every few months, I’m going to find you.”

“For fuck’s sake, answer my messages! I told you I need you! I swear I’ll help you raise Hinata this time.”

“I made a mistake, so let me fix it by answering my fucking messages! I know you’re reading them!”

You swallow hard, your throat tight, and press the “block this contact” button on your phone. It’s the fourth time this month. He’s been harassing you with messages and finding a way to contact you no matter how many numbers he uses, even when you change yours. The same goes for your address, as apparently changing apartments is no longer enough to escape him.

You know he’s in debt — one of the many consequences of his excessive gambling, even when you were still in a relationship with him. Smoking, drinking, and of course, downing tobacco like it was water, only to charm you while hiding this lifestyle to get you into his bed, then fleeing the moment you were pregnant.

So now that he needs a woman and a child to escape his debts, he’s reaching out to you — the woman he abandoned after promising marriage (without a ring, of course), got pregnant, and deserted, only to come crawling back to you.

“Mama? You okay?”

Your daughter’s concerned little voice pulls you out of your daze. The cartoons playing on the TV haven’t had the desired effect — they’re not distracting her from the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you day by day. Maybe today, it’s showing enough for people to notice?

“I’m fine, angel,” you reassure her with a perfect smile — perfectly fake, because that’s something you’ve learned to anchor over time.

You pat the empty spot on the couch next to you, and she nestles under your arm. “If you say so…” Hina murmurs, clutching her worn-out bunny plush.

The state of the plush catches your attention, and a pang of guilt stabs at your heart. What kind of mother lets her daughter carry around a stuffed toy in such poor condition? Maybe you are a bad mother? Otherwise, why would Hina deserve such a pitiful situation? She deserves so much better than you…

“Little angel?” you murmur as she wraps her tiny arms around your waist and nuzzles into your belly. “Are you okay?”

“I love you.”

And the three little words sound… unreal.

Hot tears blur your vision, and it takes every bit of strength you have to whisper back, “I love you too, Hina.”

3:00 PM.

In less than an hour, you’ll need to pick up Hinata from school.

Normally, you avoid lingering at work. You go through your usual routine as an employee, nothing special or fun — a hello, goodbye, see you tomorrow to colleagues without worrying about what’s happening around you or the gossip, even when it involves coworkers getting together.

The only change: now it’s you who gets stuck with the task of delivering all the documents to the general manager. According to one of your peers, he doesn’t seem to be strict or threatening when it comes to you. So this time, you’re tasked with delivering an additional file about the production of a new product on the market to both the CEO and the general manager. For the second time, you head up to the highest floors of the company headquarters to knock on the CEO’s door — it’s the closest. But no one answers.

No surprise, since the director’s son spends his time running through the hallways to avoid his father and shirk his responsibilities, right?

You’re about to knock on the Director’s door, but a familiar gust of wind brushes your face with a soft, fresh breeze. Satoru Gojo appears beside you with a charming smile and glances at what you’re holding.

“H-Hello, sweetheart. How are… you?” he greets, slightly out of breath from yet another chase with his father.

“I’m fine. Here.” You hand him one of the folders, and he takes it, pretending to read it. “The next meeting—” But he grabs the second document and, before you can react, opens the door to his office and casually tosses them inside before shutting the door.

“SATORU GOJO! KEEP IT UP, AND I’LL DISOWN YOU!” The boss’s voice echoes through the entire floor as he appears from behind the emergency exit door. “YOU!” He points a finger at you, standing right next to him. “Still bothering our employees?” He grumbles, his jaw clenched so tightly that you can hear his teeth grinding.

“That’s not true, father!” Satoru protests, feigning outrage. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. “You’re chasing me while I’m just saying hello to my girlfriend?”

You freeze, turning your head toward him, as lost as the Director, who squints his eyes. “Your girlfriend? Since when—”

“I was going to tell you,” Satoru continues, shaking his head, his fingers squeezing your waist while you remain paralyzed. “Here’s my new girlfriend.”

“Are you lying to me and dragging some poor woman into your childish games?”

In the back of your mind, you note that he doesn’t seem to recognize you despite the last time you saw each other.

“What? I’m telling the truth! Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” And he leans in to plant an affectionate kiss on your cheek.

Your heart almost stops for a second. But you quickly snap back to reality under the insistent embrace of his arm and his hand around you. “Y-Yes…”

What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, father, my darling and I are in a hurry.” He leads you away before you have time to protest and heads toward the elevator with you.

Once the doors close, Satoru takes your hands in his and leans toward you. “I can explain everything.”

If his cerulean blue eyes hadn’t been so persuasive, you would have exploded right there and then to yell at him.

You, the girlfriend of the CEO of the company you work for? Did this really have to happen to you? You can already picture your termination letter under your nose as you exit the back of the building. A glance at your watch tells you that if you don’t hurry, you’ll be late to pick up your daughter.

“You’re in a rush?”

“I have to pick up my daughter before I’m late,” you reply curtly, “and look at the mess I’m in now!”

“I know, I know…” Satoru rubs the back of his head, right where his immaculate undercut is. “Maybe I can explain on the way? Where’s your car?” He looks around the parking lot, his eyes searching.

The question — however mundane — makes you blush with embarrassment. “I… take public transportation…” you mumble, pouting.

He furrows his brow, as if you just admitted to showering with maggot-infested soap. “Excuse me? I don’t take public transportation.”

“Well, I do.” A hint of defiance returns to protect your pride.

How could he possibly understand when he lives like a rich man, without worrying about grocery shopping, paying bills, and of course, taking public transportation during the week to avoid wasting gas because it costs an arm and a leg! But for him, that must not be part of his daily life, especially since he’s one of society’s privileged.

“Let’s take my car then.” He says this without waiting for you, as you remain standing there. He pulls out his keys and opens the passenger door. “What are you waiting for?”

“But— I— Are you out of your mind?” you burst out. “I’m not getting in that car! I’m supposed to pick up my daughter, and now I’m pretending to be your girlfriend! In front of your father!” You emphasize your words with wild, energetic gestures.

He bursts out laughing.

Cute.

“No chance. We’re going to pick up your daughter and clear this all up. And please, stop refusing to get into a car that’s way better than those buses that reek of sweat.” He rolls his eyes, and you note how much he resembles his father when he does that.

“I have an errand to run anyway,” you persist.

“And that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to get in this car,” Satoru chuckles.

Taking a closer look, the car is as luxurious as the ones you dream about at night — yours, by comparison, looks like a junk heap ready for the scrapyard. Reluctantly, you climb in, Satoru’s chivalrous demeanor not going unnoticed as he snickers at your surrender. He quickly gets in, asks for the address of the school, and sets off after starting his car, which smells just as good as he does. You feel like a piece of trash in the middle of this little universe he inhabits.

“My father bugs me every day to find a woman,” Satoru murmurs at first, one hand resting on his thigh, clad in business suit trousers, his eyes fixed on the road over his round sunglasses. “That’s one of the reasons I avoid him.”

“And why involve me?” you snap back.

“Well, to be honest, it was partly impulsive. I met you the other day, and then, in the moment, I just wanted my father to leave me alone.” He has a half-smile that makes you swallow hard, and he gives you a knowing look before returning to a serious expression. “I’m sorry for dragging you into all this.” A pause. “I just hope you’re not married, otherwise—”

“No, I— No.” You close your eyes for a moment, the innocent question burning like a fiery arrow piercing your already aching heart. Did you just hear a sigh of relief? “And your father doesn’t seem to have recognized me since the other day,” you can’t help but point out.

“The mask.” Satoru grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “He didn’t recognize you because of that. He’s always had a bad memory and poor eyesight.”

“But you recognized me.” You focus on the road’s scenery to avoid confronting his mesmerizing eyes. “I’m not going to wear my mask forever, you know? And I don’t want to keep pretending—”

“Please,” Satoru whispers, placing a hand on yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just until he and my family get off my back.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“How much do you want?” He asks immediately, as if he just remembered something.

“What? No! I don’t want your money!” you protest as quickly as he did. “No, I…” And you groan, sinking into your seat.

Holy shit!

“What have I gotten myself into, seriously…” you moan, crossing your arms over your chest, a grimace distorting your features.

“Please. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll do everything to make it just a minor detail… I’m only asking you to change your name in front of my father when you pass as my girlfriend, wear a mask, and change your hairstyle at work — if we want to avoid suspicion. He won’t suspect a thing, I swear.” He pulls into the school parking lot and parks quietly.

Thoughts bombard your already exhausted mind, and you massage your temples. Why does this have to happen to you and no one else?

Satoru murmurs your name, making you lift your head. “It will only be a few family events, just for appearances, nothing more. I won’t bother you any further.”

You sigh, and the sound of the bell signaling the end of classes rings out. “I need to think about it. Thanks for the ride. Have a nice—”

“Come back. I’ll take you home,” Satoru suggests, pressing the button to unlock your door.

What’s the point of refusing?

You nod, finally getting out of the car to go pick up your daughter, who runs toward you as soon as you reach the gate.

"Mama!" She jumps into your arms.

You return her embrace, heading towards Satoru’s car. “Did you have a good day?”

“So much fun! I made you a drawing!” She’s practically bouncing as you reach the car.

Noticing your daughter’s confused look, you clear your throat. “Uh… A-A friend of mine is giving us a ride home, okay?” She blinks innocently and waits for you to open the car door, which is almost as tall as she is. Hinata gets in as you do, and you cough slightly. “This is Gojo. My friend.”

“Hello, princess.” Satoru turns his head over his shoulder with a big smile. “What’s your name?”

“Hinata,” she replies, her legs gently swinging.

“Very pretty.”

“Thank you.” She blushes and tries to hide a smile.

On the way, you try to fill the awkward silences with small talk until you arrive at the supermarket.

You had promised to buy Hinata a new stuffed animal since last night after spending hours worrying that you weren’t being a good mother. Again.

“That one!” Hinata almost runs towards a bunny plushie that’s twice the size of her head. She grabs it with her little arms and gives it a hug.

Satoru and you reach the aisle, and out of habit, you check the price under the albino’s watchful eye. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you see the amount, and you place a trembling hand on Hina’s shoulder. “Angel, I think it’s—”

“…Perfect,” Satoru finishes, his large hands taking the plushie from your daughter’s tight embrace to check the price tag with its shocking number. “Do you like it, little one?” he asks, looking down at her.

Hina nods energetically. “Yeah!”

“Then we’ll take it.” Satoru hands the plushie back to her and turns towards the checkout lane, already reaching into one of his pockets for what looks like… a wallet.

You react immediately, your hands finding their way around his arm. He doesn’t push you away at all and even smiles at the contact. “Gojo… No.”

“It’s Satoru to you, sweetheart,” he whispers gently. “And why not? It’s just a stuffed animal,” he scoffs. He takes Hinata’s hand so she can place the plushie on the conveyor belt.

“No, it’s not nothing to me,” you persist through clenched teeth, embarrassed that the cashier might be paying attention to your conversation.

Satoru shrugs. The cashier scans the plushie, and he uses contactless payment to pay for it. With your hands still around his arm, he places one of his on top, an intimate closeness.

“I could get used to this,” he murmurs near your ear, making you turn beet red. But he can’t continue as your daughter clings to Satoru’s leg like a koala, showering him with a thousand thank-yous for the gift. “You’re welcome, little one.” His hand gently ruffles her hair. He grins, now turning back to you. “It’s on me. You don’t owe me anything.”

Your discreet protests, so Hinata doesn’t suspect anything, come to an end when he drops both of you off in front of your home. Hinata commented that Satoru’s car looked like the one from the movie Barbie: Princess Charm School she had seen recently. He unlocks the doors as you get out of the car. Satoru’s hand catches yours, slipping a piece of cardstock into it. His contact details are on it.

“Just in case,” he mouths silently.

Nevertheless, you slip the business card into your pocket and respond just before closing the door, “I accept.”

“And no funny business, okay? Never run in the hallways, if he tells you to wait, don’t move an inch, and—” You stop yourself as you notice your daughter is more interested in admiring the elegant decorations of the office hallways with wide, doe-like eyes and an adorable, slightly open mouth.

To your great misfortune, Hinata’s preschool is on strike for a while — which means almost all the teachers are absent. So how do you take care of your daughter when you can’t afford to miss work? By bringing her to your fake boyfriend’s office, of course! You quickly make your way toward Satoru’s office, Hinata following with her hand in yours. But just as you raise your fist to knock on his door, two large hands land on your shoulders, nearly scaring the life out of you.

“Hey, hey!” You whip around abruptly, a new mask on your face — just as the plan intended.

“Satoru…” you grit through your teeth. Hinata looks up at him and grins. You sigh.

“What do I owe the pleasure of all this lovely company?” Satoru asks, not taking his eyes off yours while giving Hinata a high-five.

As usual, he’s dressed in a luxurious suit — probably worth the rent of the apartment you live in — his slightly tousled albino hair and the familiar scent of cologne filling your nostrils. You catch yourself staring a little too long, and mentally kick yourself when his curious gaze turns mischievous.

He just realized you were checking him out, damn it!

“Hinata’s school is on strike. I need you to watch her for the day, if that’s not a problem, and since you seemed so insistent on returning the favor I’m doing for you…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. “I see you’re spending your day roaming the offices rather than staying in yours…”

“No problem at all,” Satoru replies automatically, a pleased smile on his lips. “Ready to go to the CEO’s office?” He picks up Hina, who giggles and clings to him like a koala.

It’s your turn to smile in relief. “Thank you so much. I have a meeting with your father in an hour, and I’ll come get her at noon and again at the end of the day.” The sight of the two of them close together makes your heart melt — and for once, you don’t blame yourself for seeing Hinata happy to be with someone else.

5:00 PM.

You’ve sent a message to Satoru asking where he was, since knocking on his perpetually empty office seems to be pointless. The meeting with the other company members about organizing the launch of a new product was particularly painful, but one thing is certain: the general manager didn’t recognize you with your more subdued hairstyle and the mask plastered on your face.

“Come to the parking lot like last time.”

And that’s the last message from Satoru (you gave him your number during lunch).

In the empty parking lot, only Satoru’s car is present, and you cast a curious glance through the windows. The two troublemakers give you a grimace — tongues sticking out and faces scrunched up. You sigh as the passenger door opens automatically.

“Satoru, you don’t have to—”

“Hina said yes and that she wants to come to my place,” Satoru cuts in with a mocking expression.

Reluctantly, you get in, your heart pounding in your chest with all sorts of panicked thoughts. However, Satoru doesn’t seem to share your reservations and starts driving as soon as you’re settled.

“So, this means you’re coming to my place,” he says, hands on the wheel and a quick glance in the rearview mirror, “and I’m inviting you to dinner.”

“No—”

“Mom! Please, Satoru is being too nice.” Hinata complains. You glance back, and she looks at you with wounded, pleading puppy eyes, arms crossed over her chest.

You grumble, slumping back against your seat as they both cheer in victory.

“By the way, I’m stopping by your place so you can pack. We’re invited to a family wedding, and my father invited us.”

“WHAT?”

You place a box with your gift on the designated table for presents, and an arm wraps around your waist. “You look stunning,” Satoru murmurs against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, which breaks out in goosebumps.

With a flushed face, you turn your head. “Satoru…”

“What? Just because we’re pretending to be a couple and barely know each other doesn’t mean I can’t speak the truth.” He pauses. “Well, actually, we do know each other a bit, don’t we? We’ve had dinner together.” He chuckles at your half-grimacing, half-deadpan expression, pulling you closer as music fills the wedding reception hall.

You turn your head along with him toward the back of the room, where the bride’s bouquet is about to be thrown. A tight smile curves your lips — this is one thing you’ve dreamed of. Dreams have always been just that — dreams in your life, and even when love comes knocking at your door, it’s only passing through, just like your situation with Satoru.

His father didn’t notice anything, and since Satoru lives alone in a villa, it’s hard to say no when he offered for you to stay with him until he’s settled, with your own room and a staff available 24/7. He even had a tailor make a custom dress for the wedding you were both invited to. Hinata is looked after by a lovely nurse, and you’re enjoying a life you’ve always dreamed of. So why not make the most of it despite your past?

A Satoru who’s too comfortable with you isn’t so bothersome given the time you’ve spent together lately — both at the office, acting as a couple in front of certain people, and sometimes showing affection to each other to appear believable, even though they haven’t asked for kisses yet, so—

A fluffy and soft object lands right in the middle of your face and falls into your arms. You search for what seems to be a petal in your mouth and suck in your breath at what you realize it is.

The bride’s bouquet.

A gulp forces its way down your throat as the whole room applauds because… you’ve been hit in the face with the bouquet? Not to mention the lamentations of other female cousins who had jumped with all their hopes to catch it… But why you, who hadn’t asked for anything?

“Sweetheart?” Satoru mutters, his chest still pressed against your back. His tone is so sweet, nonchalant, as if you’ve been a couple for years. “My father is watching us, and I think he’s expecting me to do something.”

You swallow and nod, dreading what might happen next. Will your heart stop beating when Satoru says:

“May I kiss you?”

Never, ever, has anyone asked you that question. Not even your ex.

So, with a nervous nod, you allow him to capture your lips in a soft, languid kiss. His tender lips taste like the cotton candy children eat at the fair. They cherish yours with every movement (which you can’t help but return in kind). Each press sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

When the kiss ends, Satoru places one last kiss on the corner of your lips and clears his throat. “This is the first time I’ve wanted to marry my girlfriend.” His warm breath ignites your body.

Has your heart exploded?

If not, why can’t you breathe?

“Awww… How adorable you are with your pretty girlfriend, Satoru!”

An elderly woman approaches you both, supported by her old cane, and you note her albino hair, similar to Satoru’s.

“My dear aunt…” Satoru smiles widely without breaking away from you.

“You make a lovely couple,” Aunt Gojo continues, giving you a wise look.

“Oh, thank you.” You immediately bow and introduce yourself. Satoru’s hands squeeze your waist, and he chuckles at your manners.

“Take good care of her, you idiot,” the aunt finishes before drifting away, a tap of her cane on Satoru’s head making him sigh and rub his sore skull.

“Well, at least we look convincing, right?” he adds.

“Yes…”

Of course, he said that because he saw his aunt before you! Don’t think he said it because he meant it or—

“By the way,” Satoru takes your hand in his and leads you to the center of the dance floor, “I meant what I said before my aunt interrupted us.”

And you’re at a loss on how to interpret his playful wink.

“WOW! Hinata, you’re so rich!”

“Is this your dad’s castle?”

Hinata takes Satoru’s hand and faces her friends in his chic living room. “It’s my daddy’s!” She nods proudly and runs off with them toward the games and festivities organized for her birthday. The children run everywhere, scream, and burst into laughter throughout the room. The perfect atmosphere.

It’s exactly what you’ve always dreamed of giving Hina.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmur to Satoru, who, despite your comment, shakes his head joyfully.

“I’m glad she likes it,” he replies.

“I wasn’t talking about the party.”

He freezes and turns his head toward you. “Didn’t you tell me you’d never been married?” he dares to whisper, possibly afraid of hurting you.

“That’s true. My ex left after learning I was pregnant with Hinata.” You exhale the breath you’ve been holding, the weight of the secret finally lifted.

Maybe he won’t want to keep pretending to be your boyfriend after this…

“You can still tell me his name, you know, sweetheart?” Satoru moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, as if it’s completely natural for him, but there’s a tension in his touch. “I can take care of him and—”

You shake your head to dispel the tiny bit of resentment that’s urging you to say yes. “It’s okay. Thanks for agreeing to pretend to be her father. I know it’s going to be a bit of a hassle for a while, but she cares a lot—”

“Nuh-uh.” He places a kiss on your cheek, then another on the side of your neck, causing you to shiver. “She’s already talked about it in my office.”

You open your eyes wide. “What…?”

“Hinata likes you much more than you think… You’ve suffered too much,” His other hand glides over your stomach, and his thumb traces affectionate circles on your waist.

“Thank you,” you breathe, leaning into his touch. And for a moment, the weight on your shoulders completely lifts. “We haven’t had the best birthdays recently, so I’m happy to see Hinata get what she wants.” Your eyes rest on your daughter, dressed as a fairy, waving her glittery wand at one of her friends dressed as a witch. “So, thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. But which birthday are you talking about? Yours? When was it?”

Embarrassed, your mouth feels dry. “...A while ago.”

Satoru pulls you tightly against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you, his nose buried in your hair. “You’re such a strong woman… I can take care of you if you want. You and Hina will live like princesses, and if you want to sleep with her or have your own room, that’s no problem for me.”

“What? No, Satoru, you’re joking…”

“I’m not joking,” he insists, his gaze diving into yours — and for a second, sincerity fills his cerulean eyes.

With your mouth slightly open, you whisper, “We barely know each other, and—”

“Mama! Papa! We need to break the piñata!” Hinata rushes over to you, not paying any attention to how close you are to Satoru, and grabs each of your hands.

“Yes, angel, we’re coming,” you respond to your daughter with a weary smile, before glancing at Satoru, who is no longer looking in your direction.

Why are his ears so red?

You place the last birthday decoration box in a corner of the living room as Satoru asked and straighten up with a grimace from your aching back. “Geez…”

The upper floor of the huge house is strangely quiet, and you furrow your brows. Could they have gone downstairs?

“Hinata? Satoru?” you call out as you walk through the hallways.

The evening darkness makes it hard to see clearly, and only the faint beam of light escaping from the kitchen door guides you.

“Are you there?” you ask, gently pushing the door open, and what you find leaves you stunned.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” the two of them exclaim, holding an enormous cake between them.

A few candles illuminate the underside of their beaming faces, party hats perched on their heads. The kitchen is a huge mess, counters covered in flour and frosting, and dishes overflow from the sink, threatening to topple over.

You stand speechless as they continue to sing your birthday song. Your nostrils and eyes start to itch strangely. Why is your vision suddenly blurring? It looks like transparent waves just above your lower lashes, threatening to overflow if you dare to blink. Yet, you can’t escape it.

Not when they set the cake on the table and pull you into a hug while your nose runs, tears roll down your cheeks, and your choked-up throat is on the verge of bursting into sobs. Satoru keeps kissing your hair, never stopping for a second to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, his hand drawing circles on your back. Hinata wipes your tears while her own roll down her little cheeks.

Seeing you cry has always been contagious for her.

The moment gives you a glimpse of what your life would be like if you had a complete family, and Satoru’s words echo in your mind. How could he be so perfect in just a few weeks of knowing him?

Once the emotion passes, a few minutes later, you eat your birthday cake with laughter and cheer, accompanied not just by the one person who now means everything to you, but by both.

“Watch out, Hina. You have applesauce on your chin,” Satoru chuckles, his hand grabbing a napkin to wipe the excess food around the child’s mouth.

The heartwarming scene makes your heart swell. You definitely don’t regret going out with Satoru and Hinata to have a meal at a chic terrace in their company. The family atmosphere finally gives you a glimpse of the life you’ve always hoped to live. Hinata growing up with a loving father and mother, and you, loved and supported by an ideal partner. Why not reconsider Satoru’s proposal, then? He’s the first man to think of you, even after your birthday had passed some time ago.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you murmur to Satoru, who nods in response, a wry smile curling his pink lips.

But why did it have to be on this day that a man finally approaches the two people you care about just as you slip away? He clearly waited from afar for you to let your guard down around your daughter so he could show up right in the middle of the table, facing a little girl — his daughter, technically — next to a man who isn’t her father.

Satoru slowly raises his head toward him, brows furrowed and wary. “Can I help you?”

Your ex says your name. “Where is she?” he mimics asking as if he didn’t know.

“What do you want with her?”

“To talk to her. I have the right. And you’re with my daughter, just so you know.” He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to appear threatening, but Satoru remains stoic, more contemptuous than anything else in the face of such a scruffy, unshaven nuisance.

“She’s not here; you can leave,” Satoru responds. And out of protective instinct, he pulls Hinata’s chair closer to him, his eyes narrowed. Satoru understands perfectly that your ex is back to claim his rights over his daughter, just as he’s been harassing you with messages about it.

“Excuse me? When my daughter is in the arms of a stranger? I could call the police immediately and we’ll sort this out very quickly,” your ex retorts sharply. He takes a step toward a lost Hinata, her big doe eyes blinking innocently between the two men. Of course, she doesn’t recognize him.

An altercation begins between the two, which naturally attracts the attention of other diners around. And you walk into the middle of the scene, frozen in shock at the sight of your ex hurling threats at Satoru.

“She’s taking my daughter, so I’m taking her back! And it’s not a bastard like you who’s going to help her regain my rights!” your ex spits with venom. His icy eyes find yours, terrified, your hands trembling and your complexion as pale as a sheet. He’s about to address you with the same angry speech, his face flushed with rage and a vein ready to burst at his temple.

Do you get déjà vu?

“‘Your daughter’?” Satoru repeats with a deadly gaze and a jaw quivering with rage. “She’s been sitting next to me for over an hour, I’ve been feeding her for over an hour, she’s been calling me by my name for over an hour, and you’re talking about ‘your daughter’? At this point, whose daughter is she... yours or mine?”

Your ex, publicly humiliated, opens his eyes wide with hatred. “You little son of—”

“Sir, we ask that you leave the terrace; you’re disturbing our customers,” a security guard declares firmly. He’s accompanied by another colleague, and when your ex protests, they grab him by the arm and escort him away amidst his shouting and the murmurs of other customers who keep staring at the three of you.

You move closer to Satoru, who immediately stands up upon seeing you — having not realized you were there — and can only offer you an apologetic look. “Let’s go,” you silently mouth (your throat too tight to dare let a sound escape, fearing it might break before you say anything), taking the hand of a silent and lost Hinata. “I’ll pay the bill and—”

“It’s already taken care of; we can go,” Satoru gently interrupts, following you to his car.

And it’s on the silent drive back that you realize something.

You’ve officially fallen in love with Satoru Gojo.

“Look, Mom, Dad and I made a drawing for you!” Hinata proudly holds up a colorful picture with three easily recognizable characters on it.

“Did you brush your teeth?” you ask as you take the drawing to admire it, just as much smiling as your daughter. She nods and then does a little twirl to show off her new pajamas that Satoru gave her earlier in the day. “It’s beautiful. You’re so talented,” you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Satoru appears in the doorway of Hinata’s room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a perpetual playful smile curving his lips. “Ready to go to sleep?”

“Yes, and I showed our drawing to mama,” Hinata asserts, bouncing on her bed.

“Oh yeah? Did mama like it?” Satoru asks softly, his eyes now locked with yours.

“Mama loved it and thanks Daddy,” you whisper, your voice quivering with emotion that threatens to spill over.

Half an hour later, Satoru and you find yourselves in the hallway with a sleeping Hinata and her little lullaby snores.

Satoru wraps his arm around your waist as usual and buries his face in your neck. Your heart is already racing, and your breath catches when he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” The embrace is a simple hug but with unspoken words easily guessed.

“For everything.” Satoru sighs, and for a split second, you hope he’ll let you speak, but no. “I didn’t mean to make a scene and—”

“And you think I’m going to blame you for protecting us? That I wasn’t touched by what you said about Hina?” you mumble near his ear. The closeness gives you another chance to see his ears turn red. “Is Satoru shy?” you giggle, open to teasing. He hums, hiding his face so you don’t see his expression.

“I love you.”

You blink, because you must have heard wrong. “Huh?”

“Marry me.” And he’s already on his knees before you, eyes pleading. That usually confident cerulean blue is now so submissive, so close at hand… But the sudden turn of events leaves you stunned. “I want to be your husband, not just have you as my wife. I want to raise Hina with you and give you everything you need.” Not letting himself be distracted by your stunned expression, he continues, “Want my money? I’ll give it to you. My house? It will be in your name. Want my body? It belongs to you. My heart? It’s already yours.” And he starts kissing the backs of your hands desperately. “I love you, I love you… Please, marry me…”

“Satoru… You—” you stammer, backing away, your brow furrowed. Everything is a jumble in your head, both from his touching declaration but also because it’s all moving too fast for you. “You… love me?” you manage to whisper.

He crawls to you and wraps his large arms around your thighs, almost choking with desperation. “I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.” He whispers your name like a divine invocation. “I’ve fallen in love with you more than just once.”

You don’t immediately respond, and that’s okay in his eyes. He doesn’t want to pressure you, just for you to know the truth and for him to be completely transparent with you.

“It’s okay if you don’t share my feelings; I just want you to know that—” But he’s cut off by your rush toward him on the floor as you press your lips to his, pulling him into the dance of your lips that one gives to the other in a long, passionate kiss. “God… I love you so much…”

“I love you too, Satoru,” you murmur against his mouth between kisses that turn into moans as he slides his warm, wet tongue between your lips to request access to your mouth.

Both of your breaths become ragged and heavy. Satoru takes the opportunity to lift you by the underside of your thighs and lead you to his bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him without breaking the contact of your swollen, desirous lips. He gently lays you on the king-size bed with silver satin and frost-blue sheets.

With a tenderness of loving slowness, Satoru breaks the kiss. “Do you want to continue?” he asks, his voice husky. You nod timidly, but he shakes his head with his mischievous smile — finally back. “Nuh-uh. Your words, sweetheart.”

“I want it, Satoru,” you reply after a sigh of exasperation so adorable in his eyes that it makes him laugh, then he places a light kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Alright… Gonna take care of my beautiful girl, the best, the most wonderful mother, and maybe future wife—” He places a finger on your lips. “Oh no, you’ll answer that later if you want, when I have something concrete for that occasion.”

You sigh in frustration because the answer is already on the tip of your tongue, but it soon turns into a moan as he kisses the side of your neck with such deliberate slowness that you really wonder if he’s going to tease you to the limit. His hands roam over your clothed chest, exploring your already hardened nipples. His lips find their way to your collarbone, marking it with love bites and hickeys that elicit muffled moans from you.

“If you knew how long I’ve dreamed of doing this…” Satoru comments with a touch of affection, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. “Exactly how I would act with my wife—”

“And your father?” And he chuckles again.

“We don’t care about him.” He casually tosses your top aside to tease your sensitive, erect nipples through the fabric with his thumbs. “Such humble underwear… Would you like me to buy you something more daring?” he purrs, pulling on a strap to snap it against your gooseflesh-covered skin.

“Would you do that?” You bring your lips to his, and he immediately responds to the kiss. You also remove his black turtleneck sweater to reveal his toned, muscular torso. An adventurous hand glides over his chest, making him groan slightly, and then stops at his lower abdomen where a vein runs lower down. You place a kiss there with a small, sly smile.

For the first time, you’re about to make love with someone.

“Hmm? Satoru? Have you ever thought of me in outfits like this?” Your nimble fingers unbutton his pants, revealing a prominent bulge in his fly.

“Sweetheart, don’t—” he hisses between his teeth from the sensation of the slight friction between his erection and your eager fingers as they pull down his pants to caress and rub his dick through the thin fabric of his boxer. “Your hands feel so good…” He breathes softly, his hands stroking your bare arms with a feather-light touch.

“Answer my question…” you purr, your nails pulling at the underwear to free his hard, twitching cock. The tip is perfectly reddened, with veins coursing along its pale length of 8 inches. Almost automatically, your mouth waters, and you waste no time kissing the slit of his already glistening tip with pre.

“Babe, don’t tease…” Satoru closes his eyes and lets your hand wrap around his length, begging to be touched. “F-fuck— Yes, yes, I’ve thought about it, about buying you the most expensive and luxurious lingerie— ah!” he almost whimpers. You take a little over 2 inches of him into your mouth to stroke the base. “But also in those maternity clothes— oh god… C-can you really blame me?” He rolls his eyes and can’t help but buck his hips toward you, his body pleading for your mouth to take care of him.

You withdraw his cock from your mouth to whisper, “So you’re a naughty boy, hmm?”

“I won’t last if you keep this up— hgnn…” he whimpers completely, his dick splitting your mouth in two as you take him all in. Your head starts to bob back and forth, and he is so close that he spills moans of your name. “G’nna cum, baby, don’t—”

You hollow your cheeks, and the next moment, he cums in your mouth, long, thick ropes of his release filling your already full mouth with his shaft. You hum under his orgasm and swallow slowly. You slide his dick out of your mouth with the same rhythm to smile at a Satoru with ears as red as his cheeks.

“F-fuck, sweetheart,” he pants, his calloused finger wiping away the mixed cord of your saliva and his cum with a swipe of his thumb.

“M-hmm… You taste so sweet…” He doesn’t let you continue and crushes his lips against yours, tasting himself on your mouth. “I want you, Satoru…”

“I’m yours, princess.” He helps you quickly remove your remaining underwear so that you’re completely naked in front of him, knees resting on the expensive mattress. He kneels at the foot of the bed, and his fingers explore your sensitive, already dripping cunt.

“So wet for me… Did I do this to you just with my cock?” His fingers spread your swollen folds to gather your fluids and rub your throbbing, needy clit.

Your nails dig into his arm as you lift your hips under the sharp pleasure. “Satoru, it feels good…” you gasp in a whimper. His forefinger and middle finger spread your wetness all around your intimacy. “Please don’t tease…”

“Not tease? Weren’t you doing it, sweetheart? What a nerve,” Satoru scoffs, tapping his finger at your entrance. “Can I?”

“Please…” You wince as you move your hips down for more. And that’s exactly what he does, immediately inserting his finger into you, cursing.

“You’re so fucking tight… and so wet,” he curses, his finger moving in and out of you with careful softness. “I can already fuck you without making you cum first.” He stops finger-fucking you and looks up at you. “Is that what you want, love?”

You nod before arching your back on the bed. Satoru climbs onto the mattress and helps you wrap your legs around him. “That’s it…” He takes his length in his hand and teases your responsive cunt with the tip to get it wetter.

“Don’t tease, Toru, I swear…” And he smirks.

“Toru?”

“Sorry, I—”

His tip presses against your tight, pulsing entrance, and he grins. “I want you to moan that nickname while I fuck you, ’kay?” He grips your hips to pull you closer to him, and with one swift movement, he slides into you, a groan escaping from behind his lips as your deliciously tight, warm, gummy walls wrap around him as if you were meant for him.

The stretch causes a slight discomfort at first, and you almost cry in relief when Satoru notices. He patiently waits for you to adjust before starting a slow, deep rhythm inside you.

You widen your lustful eyes, tears forming at their corners. “Ah! Toru… Jus’ like that…” Your eyes roll back as the tip of Satoru’s dick hits the back of your cervix, making you shiver and tighten around him. “Fuck… s’deep…”

“So fucking perfect, so fucking mine,” Satoru groans, his hips rocking into you without ceasing to swell between your gummy walls. His chest rises and falls in a breath as ragged as yours, asking for more every time you moan for him to go deeper. (He discreetly rolls his eyes and babbles incomprehensible words — completely pussy drunk.)

And that’s exactly what he does. He slams back in brutally, making you cry out his name with each thrust. “Shhh… You don’t want Hina to hear us, right? So keep quiet, baby…” He helps stifle your gasps and moans of pleasure by capturing your lips with his, alternating between fast, rough thrusts and slow, gentle ones in your hole that he fucks shamelessly.

Blood rushes to your ears, a rare sensation you haven’t truly felt the last time you were with someone. It wasn’t just about carnal pleasure between Satoru and you — but about love. The fusion of bodies loving each other and providing mutual pleasure, even as they burn for each other— physically and emotionally.

One of Satoru’s hands slowly slides to one of your breasts and teases a sensitive nipple. The arch in your back encourages him to detach his mouth from yours to capture the other nipple with his wet lips. The growl he lets out sends a wave of intense shivers through you, making your eyes roll in overstimulation.

“P-please, Toru, please, I’m already close,” you whimper against your trembling palm — a feeble attempt to contain your sweet sounds as he speeds up his hip movements in your sloppy cunt — the sound of his balls slapping your skin filling the room. Your words are punctuated by the tightening of your walls around him, swearing he could cum inside you just from hearing you beg.

“Cum on my cock, baby, cover it,” he coos, giving another kiss to your abused chest. The clenching of your jaw with your teeth dug into your lower lip forces you to groan. “Want me to fill you up?” And you nod, tears showing your imminent orgasm. “Anything for you, my beautiful girl.” His hips slam against yours, and his fingers continue to tease your breast, rubbing your puffy clit.

Satoru’s own breath becomes heavier, more labored as he keeps singing praises while you gasp, his lips pressed along the line of kisses he’s placing down your jaw. “T-Toru, Toru, cumming!” you cry out as your walls spasm around his cock while he reaches his peak and fills you with his hot, liquid release, warming your lower abdomen. You see blinding stars illuminating your vision.

He hisses almost gutturally, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Oh god… S-Squeezing me while I’m cumming too…” He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his peak subside at the same rhythm as yours, his forehead damp with sweat resting against your chest. 

Only pants and groans escape your lips, each one accompanied by difficult swallows and the feeling of your sweaty bodies pressed against each other.

“How was it? Did I make you feel good?” Satoru asks immediately, once his breath has returned.

The concerned questions touch your heart so deeply that you lift tearful eyes to him. “Are you going to leave, after this?”

His expression falters, and he gently withdraws from you to envelop you in his embrace. “No, baby, of course not… I won’t, I swear on my life I won’t leave you… I’m not him. I’m the one who hopes you won’t leave…” he whispers hurriedly. “Don’t think about that. I’ll always be here, for you and for Hina…”

You sniffle, your eyes red. But Satoru smiles tenderly, wiping away your hot tears. “Save your tears for later, sweetheart.”

“Why?” You clear your throat.

He sighs, the aftermath of the effort from the activity settling on him, and places a chaste kiss on your sweaty temple. “Did I tell you that my father invited us to dinner tomorrow night?”

“No,” you shake your head, “but what’s the link?”

“Don’t you understand?” he murmurs in your ear, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll understand in time.”

“I see. So it was an unexpected encounter.” Gojo’s father nods, shrugging his shoulders. “But I wonder how a woman like you can have feelings for such a fool…”

Satoru chokes on a piece of meat he’s chewing and takes a sip of his water. You stifle a giggle, with some steamed vegetables speared on your fork, just waiting for you to devour them. For a man who appears so stern and strict, Mr. Gojo is quite a wealthy man who spends his days reprimanding his son for not doing this or that.

Yet, there’s a certain paternal camaraderie between them — a father-son relationship, if you will.

“That’s not true,” Satoru retorts, his voice still gravelly. He has an adorable pout on his lips, like a child wrongly scolded.

“Yes, like you’re not a womanizer,” his father retorts, rolling his eyes.

“It was so you’d leave me alone,” with furrowed brows, he wears a mischievous smile at his father’s incredulous expression, “but sweetheart came into my life,” he continues, looking at you with a tenderness he has rarely shown.

“I hope you manage to put up with him until… well, until you decide to marry — if that’s what you choose,” his father sighs, turning his attention back to the dish in front of him.

“Satoru isn’t a bad person, you know,” you start gently. “He is certainly a thoughtless brat with grotesque immaturity,” Satoru almost spits out his water this time, and you continue with a wry smile, “but he has a great sense of attention and unmatched generosity. I believe he will be a good husband, I assure you.”

“I must admit,” he says with a wise smile, his wrinkles less pronounced.

Satoru casually says your name, “Yeah, yeah… By the way, could you pass me the salt, please?”

You freeze, while Satoru’s father suddenly looks up with an incredulous expression. “Who?”

And you smack your forehead with the palm of your hand.

The cries of a newborn fill the room as, breathless and on the verge of fainting, the midwives congratulate you, bringing your second child wrapped in clean blankets at your request.

“He’s beautiful…” Satoru murmurs as he approaches you, leaning down to the tiny baby with his albino hair and blue eyes — his exact likeness. “Thank you, my love, thank you, thank you, thank you…” His voice breaks as you raise a weak, exhausted hand toward him, but with a serene smile on your lips as you whisper how much you love each other.

He immediately wraps his fingers around yours, your wedding rings sparkling as they brush together like stars sealed for eternity.

a/n: how i love desperate men, hihi! 🤭 hope you all enjoyed this one-shot!

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[catchastarorten]

—“This one’s mine.”

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x VIP!fem!reader

Summary: after being pestered by your own brother, you agreed to accompany him to the island to watch the games, only to find yourself helping a waiter—Jun-ho—who was being eyed by a creepy panther-masked VIP.

Warnings: your sarcasm, mentions of death/violence in Glass Bridge, your brother is a VIP, brother & sister bickering/you put him in his place because he's being annoying, the VIPs—panther masked VIP being a weirdo, you save Jun-ho tho, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 2.6k

The golden fox mask felt heavy on your face, pressing against your skin in a way that made you want to rip it off and toss it across the room. But that would be improper, wouldn’t it? A VIP must maintain decorum. At least, that’s what your insufferable little brother kept reminding you.

Speaking of him, he was sitting beside you, his wolf mask barely concealing the delighted smirk on his face as he leaned forward, watching the players stumble and fall to their deaths on the Glass Bridge. He laughed—actually laughed—when a man made the wrong choice out of the two and jumped, crashing through the wrong glass panel, screaming all the way down.

You sighed, swirling the drink in your glass, watching the liquid catch the dim light. It was infinitely more interesting than the so-called “game” before you.

How had you let brother dearest drag you here? Oh, right. He had whined and pouted and gone on and on about how you never did anything fun with him. You had rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they hadn’t gotten stuck in your skull, but against your better judgment, you agreed.

And now here you were, surrounded by a bunch of snobby men—your presence wasn’t nearly enough to balance out the testosterone levels—draped in velvet robes, sipping on the finest liquor, and betting on desperate people fighting for their lives.

You suppressed a yawn.

“This is so much better than another charity gala, isn’t it?” your brother drawled, nudging your arm. “You have to admit, this is real entertainment.”

“Yeah, watching poor people die really warms the heart,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be such a bore, sis,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This is tradition. You should be honored to be here.”

Oh, you were honored, alright. Honored that your parents left everything to him, making sure he had enough money to play dress-up with his rich little friends while you had to fight for your own wealth. Not that you needed their inheritance, but the principle of it still burned. He got to be the spoiled prince while you had to claw your way up in the world. And now here he was, wasting it all on cheap thrills.

The Glass Bridge game was nearing midway. The players were hesitating, trying to strategize their way across. The VIPs around you were buzzing with excitement, shouting bets, clapping, drinking like it was the biggest sports event of the decade. But all you saw were walking corpses, their fear so thick in the air it nearly masked the expensive cologne in the room.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the burn coat your throat.

“At least pretend like you’re having fun,” your brother whined. “People are gonna think you’re some kind of a… prude.”

“Oh no.” you responded mockingly.

He huffed, crossing his arms like a petulant child. If there was one thing he hated, it was not getting his way. You could practically hear the gears turning in his spoiled little mind, trying to come up with a way to make you enjoy this, but his thoughts were interrupted when the other VIPs erupted into cheers and groans. You just exhaled through your nose, staring at the mess.

It was the players on the glass bridge, arguing, too afraid to jump. One shoved another forward, out of desperation or malice. The man screamed as he plunged to his death.

“Ugh, finally,” your brother muttered. “I hate when they hesitate. Just jump, you cowards!”

You turned your head slightly, studying him. Did he even realize how pathetic he sounded? Lounging in a silk robe, sneering at people who had nothing? He wouldn’t last a minute in their position.

“You should play,” you mused, tilting your head. “Next year.”

He snorted. “Please, I would dominate these games.”

You smiled behind your mask. “Would you?”

Your brother scoffed. “You doubt me?”

“I know you,” you said. “And you wouldn’t make it past the first round.”

He looked genuinely offended. “I’d make it to the finals, at least.”

You leaned in, voice dropping. “Tell you what. If you join next year, I’ll bet against you. Just to make it interesting.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. But you saw it—the flicker of doubt, of fear. As much as he enjoyed watching, he knew very well he would never survive playing.

And that? That was the only entertaining thing you’d seen all night.

A moment later, your eyes flicked toward the Panther-masked VIP, whose frustration over losing a bet had quickly turned into something much more unpleasant. His focus had shifted from the game to the waiter standing stiffly beside him—a waiter who, you observed, wasn’t moving quite like the other servers.

You weren’t an idiot. The way that waiter hesitated when he was called, the way his shoulders were a little too tense, the way his hands remained perfectly still as if not used to serving—it all screamed of someone who didn’t belong.

That was because he wasn’t really a waiter, it was Jun-ho disguised as one, though you didn’t know that. He had taken down one of the servers moments before the VIPs arrived on the island.

And now, the Panther-masked VIP was ordering him to sit beside him and take off his mask.

Jun-ho—recognizing the sharpness in his tone—tried to resist, his voice calm. “I need to serve the other guests, sir.”

The Panther VIP scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, come now, the others won’t mind if I keep this one for myself, will they?”

A chorus of laughter and amusement rippled through the room, the other VIPs agreeing without a care—“he’s all yours!” one of them laughed. Your brother even chuckled beside you, raising his glass as if this was all just another part of the entertainment.

You, however, did not find it amusing.

Before Jun-ho could be forced into something he clearly wanted no part of, you lazily raised your hand and gestured toward your glass.

“I need a refill,” you said smoothly.

Jun-ho’s eyes darted toward you, wary but sharp, understanding immediately that you were giving him an out.

Your brother groaned, shifting beside you. “Come on, sis, let him have his fun—”

Your hand shot out, swatting him hard against his arm before he could finish his whining.

He yelped, rubbing his arm. “Ow! What the—?”

“Shut up.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but the look you gave him through your golden fox mask was enough to make him think better of it. He slumped back into the couch with a huff, grumbling under his breath.

The Panther-masked VIP tsked in annoyance but didn’t say more as Jun-ho bowed his head slightly and stepped away from him, making his way toward you. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease, if only slightly.

As he reached your couch, he carefully took your glass and poured you another drink, his movements slow and precise. Up close, you could see the way his jaw was set tight, his eyes flickering with restraint.

You leaned in slightly as he finished pouring. “You okay?” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jun-ho hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding once. “Thank you,” he said quietly, placing your glass back into your hand.

You didn’t reply, just took a slow sip while he stood beside the couch you sat on.

However, the weight of the Panther-masked VIP’s stare was suffocating. You didn’t even have to look to know that he was still watching Jun-ho like a predator eyeing its next meal.

Annoyed, you turned your head ever so slightly, locking eyes with him through your golden fox mask. You raised your glass in a slow, mocking salute before downing the rest of your drink in one smooth motion.

The message was clear: Back off.

Unfortunately, subtlety was wasted on men like him.

“Come back here,” the Panther VIP drawled, waving his fingers in a lazy command at Jun-ho.

Jun-ho’s grip on the bottle in his hands tightened slightly, his body as still as a statue. It was subtle, but you caught it. He didn’t want to go back over there.

So, before he could even think about stepping forward, you reached out and grabbed his forearm, holding him in place. Your fingers pressed firmly against the fabric of his uniform—a silent message that he could stay with you.

You sat up straighter, your voice cutting through the noise.

“This one’s mine.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Jun-ho stiffened beside you, clearly taken aback. You didn’t mean it in the way it sounded—he wasn’t a possession. But these men only responded to power plays, and if that was the language they spoke, then fine. You’d speak it fluently.

Your brother let out a low whistle beside you, his amusement clear. “Ohhh, big sis is getting bold.”

You didn’t even hesitate—your palm struck his arm again with a sharp thwack.

“Ow!” he rubbed where you smacked him.

“Shut up,” you muttered, leveling him with a glare. “If you don’t stop embarrassing yourself, I’ll give you a real beating in front of all these people.”

He grumbled something under his breath, soothing his arm, but he didn’t push it further.

The Panther VIP, however, was not so easily prevented. “Come now,” he chuckled, though there was irritation beneath his voice. “You can’t hoard all the fun.”

“Sure, I can,” you replied dryly.

A few of the other VIPs laughed at that, enjoying the exchange. The Panther VIP let out a breath through his nose, clearly displeased, but he wasn’t about to pick a fight with another VIP. That was the unspoken rule—annoyance was fine, but outright challenging each other was bad form.

Jun-ho turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at you. You met his eyes for a brief second, and then you stood up, keeping your grip on him firm.

“We’re leaving,” you announced.

Your brother groaned. “What? Where are you going?”

You didn’t even look at him as you responded, voice utterly monotone. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

More amusement rippled through the other VIPs, some watching with interest, others indifferent as they returned their attention to the game. But as you turned to leave, you felt it—that silent, looming presence watching you.

The Frontman.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t move to stop you. He simply observed, his masked face unreadable.

You met his gaze for a long moment before turning away, leading Jun-ho out of the room. No one stopped you. No one dared to stop you.

And just like that, you stole the only honest man in the room away from the wolves.

The moment you got him alone into a dimly-lit, empty room, you could feel the tension radiating off of him. Jun-ho wasn’t stupid—he knew he didn’t belong here, and he knew that you knew. His shoulders were taut, his breath controlled but just a little too shallow, and his hand was subtly reaching for something. A gun, maybe. A knife. Whatever he had managed to smuggle in.

You raised your hands slowly, showing you had no weapon, no ill intent. “Relax,” you said, your voice calm, softer even. You let go of his arm, stepping back to give him space. “I’m not going to turn you in… or whatever you’re thinking right now.”

Jun-ho’s sharp eyes flickered with suspicion. “And why should I believe that?”

“Because if I was planning to sell you out, I would’ve done it back there.” you tilted your head slightly, crossing your arms loosely. “Would’ve let that old man have his fun.” you said with a hint of distaste at the thought.

That gave him pause. He studied you, his gaze flickering over your golden fox mask, as if trying to gauge whether you were lying, or just the need to understand why a supposed VIP was helping him. You didn’t blame him for being on edge. This entire place was a slaughterhouse dressed up in gold. If you were in his position, you wouldn’t trust anyone either.

“You don’t belong here,” you stated plainly, watching for his reaction.

“And neither do you.”

That actually made you laugh, just a short, soft chuckle. “You’re not wrong.”

He hesitated. Maybe because your mask didn’t hold the same predatory amusement as the others. His fingers twitched, like he was still deciding whether to draw his weapon, but then he let out a slow breath.

You sighed too and gestured toward the door. “You should go. Before someone actually does come looking for you.”

Jun-ho didn’t move right away. He just stood there, looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. And for a brief moment, you could tell—he wanted to ask.

Who are you?

Why are you helping me?

What’s under the mask?

But he didn’t ask. He just gave you a small nod before slipping out the door, disappearing like a shadow. You shut the door.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders as you turned back toward the empty room. Not even a minute later, a knock came at the door. You raised an eyebrow, opening the door, meeting the presence of a square-masked guard, who stepped inside.

“The Frontman sent me to check on you,” the guard said, his voice hollow under the mask. “Where’s the waiter?”

You gave him a blank look. “What waiter?”

The guard straightened. “The waiter you left with.”

You tilted your head, voice dry. “Oh. Him.” you shrugged lazily. “I got bored. Told him to get lost.”

The square guard didn’t buy it. “Where did he go?”

You sighed, as if this was the most exhausting conversation of your life. “Am I his babysitter?”

The guard didn’t move. He was pushing. You didn’t like being pushed.

So you took a slow step forward, closing the space between you and the guard. He stood his ground, but you could feel the slight hesitation in his stance as you slowly backed him up against the wall.

When his back hit the surface, the shift in atmosphere was instant. You weren’t loud. You weren’t aggressive. But the weight of your presence—the empty, unreadable calm of someone who knew how to lie—was enough to make the guard tense.

You tilted your head slightly, a slow, empty smile forming under your mask. “What exactly are you suggesting?” you murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That I’m hiding something?”

The square guard stiffened.

“Because that would be a very bold accusation to make against a VIP,” you continued, voice dropping to something almost sickly sweet. “And you wouldn’t want to insult a guest, would you?”

There it was—the slight shift in his posture, the hesitation and hint of nervousness.

“I—”

You stepped back, your fake smile still in place. “Good talk,” you said dryly, dusting off your robe like this was nothing more than an inconvenience. “Tell the Frontman to send someone more competent next time.”

The square guard didn’t argue, he just quickly stepped away from the wall, stiffly nodding before leaving the room without another word.

You sighed as the door shut behind him, rubbing a hand against the side of your neck.

This whole thing had been a drag, but at least you’d managed to do one decent thing tonight.

[charlotteking27]

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: You have been secretly dating Formula 1 driver Max Verstappen, but unfortunately, your relationship is revealed by a live stream.

You watched on the large screen, seeing your boyfriend dominate the track in the sport he loved.

You watched eagerly, your hands curling tightly at the material of your couch, not blinking, afraid you would miss something.

Sitting beside you were your clingy cats, lying on your lap hoping to turn your attention from the screen to them.

As the minutes went by, so did the race, which was coming to an end. On the final lap, there was a battle between McLaren and Red Bull. Both were neck-to-neck, and neither could win, but in the end, the current world champion made it across the finish line first.

You jumped up in celebration, clapping your hands, seeing your boyfriend with a look of pride.

You turned back to your cats only to be met by one of the stinkiest side eyes you have ever gotten. Sassy and Jimmy only hissed at you for a second before continuing to lie down on you.

You waited eagerly for your phone to ring, hoping it was Max. And in no time, he was face-timing you in all his sweaty glory.

"I am so proud of you, baby", You spoke softly.

"I hope you were watching, Liefje", He said with a grin but he knew you always watched his race no matter the circumstances.

You blushed bashfully, trying to hide your tomato face, hearing his teasing laughter.

"I wish you were here, Liefje", Max said, changing the topic back to reality.

"You know I want to be there, but I can't," you sadly said. You want to be there truly to support Max in the sport he loves, but you can't.

"I know, I'll call you later Okay?" Max smiled trying to ease your worries.

"Okay," you softly said before hanging up the call, turning your phone away from you in sadness.

You were a shy person who always kept to yourself, but after you met Max, your life took a drastic turn to luxury. But your soft-spoken nature never changes.

You were so afraid of what his fans might think of you that you decided to keep your relationship a secret. That was a year ago, Max has been supported by your decision, but you could see the look on his face.

You could see how jealous he was seeing the other F1 drivers celebrating and being in love with their girlfriends and wives in public, while he couldn't.

You hate seeing Max upset like that and you wish you could get over your fear, but it's just so hard...

You knew Max was going to come back tomorrow, and it was the perfect time to talk about your relationship.

As you went to sleep, you couldn't help but miss Max so much. It was these times that you wished you could go with him and be by his side.

As you wake up, you look terrible upon looking at the mirror, seeing huge eye bags and your disheveled hair in disgust.

Take a nice warm shower before getting ready for the day, putting on a cute matching white outfit. As you walked towards the kitchen you saw Max.

You ran toward pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Hey Liefje, I missed you too", Max chuckled before embracing you equally as much before hearing the cats meow for more food.

"And I see the cats have missed you just as much," you said softly before scratching both of your cats behind the ears and hearing them purr in pleasure.

"When did you get here?" You said, standing back up.

"While you were in the shower, you know I couldn't stay away for that long", Max smirked before putting little kisses all over your face.

"Speaking of which, Max, I want to talk to you". You spoke softly as Max saw how serious you were.

You led him to the couch where you could both sit. Max sat next to you, holding your hands in worry.

"What's wrong?" Max frowned. His eyebrows creased on his forehead, no matter how many times you told him not to do that.

As you took a deep breath, "I feel like...", but before you could continue Max stood up hastily interrupting you.

"No, I refused to break up, I love you so much. I see my future with you, please don't give up on us", Max desperately said before going on his knees to you.

"Max, that was so sweet, but that was not what I was going to say, and I don't ever want to break up with you." You gently pulled his hands so he could sit next to you again.

"Baby, I want to make our relationship public, I think it's time-", before you finish your sentence, Max stood up for the second time, dancing in celebration.

"Huh, oh um are you sure Liefje", Max spoke out with his fake tone of worry. You nodded your head not even a second later seeing your boyfriend again dance in happiness.

You smiled, seeing your boyfriend so happy, "So that means at the next race you will come with me." Max grinned ear to ear, seeing you nod again.

Max was still riding high from your spectacular news, a smile plastered on his face for days. Some of the other drivers were even creeped out by Max's constant smiles.

"Hmm Liefje, I gonna go stream with some of the guys", Max called out to you from the other room.

"Okay", you said softly before continuing the show you were watching.

You didn't know how the time got away from you that fast; it was already 7:20 pm. And you were starving, too tired to cook, so you decided to ask what Max wanted to order.

You opened the door a little just enough to peak your head through. You signal Max, waiting for him to see.

"Huh, okay, guys, I think that's enough live streaming for today. I will see you guys later", He smiled out before turning it off.

"Hey Liefje, don't worry, the live stream is done", Max said, standing up and waving you over.

You happily came over before wrapping your arms around Max, pecking his lips softly.

"What do you want for dinner? I'm thinking of ordering in", you said softly, brushing some of Max's hair away from his face to see his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Whatever you want, Liefje", Max smiled, swaying you gently.

"Hmm, what ab-", before you could finish, the red dot on the computer caught your eye. "What does that red dot mean?".

Max quickly turned his head towards your direction before quickly scrambling to turn it off properly. After turning it off he sighed out in disappointment.

"Liefje, I am so sorry I didn't turn it off properly. I never meant our secret to come out like this", Max quietly said mumbling out incoherent sorry's, looking down in shame.

"It's okay, baby. We'll figure it out", you said, gently rubbing his back and trying to calm him down.

You and Max both turned off your phone, avoiding Max's pr manager and all of social media not ready to face it yet.

"Don't worry this weekend is the race, we'll clear everything then right now let's not think about it", You gently spoke out trying to have Max understand it was not his fault and it was a simple accident. You could tell by his eyes and face how guilty he felt.

"Yeah...Okay", Max mumbles out.

Seeing Max go to sleep, sad makes your heart burn for him...I hope everything goes well this weekend.

Liked by Username1, Redbullfan, and 304K others

F1gossip: rumors spiral around the paddock as we see a new WAG insight. It's a mystery who she is but It might be the same girl who Max accidentally revealed in the live stream. What do you think?

View all 2,427 comments

Username5: I can’t believe Max has a girlfriend

Redbullprincess: How do we even know it’s true?

Username7: Fr it could be like someone in his family or something

Maxiefan2: AWW their so cute

DuDuDuDu: I wish we knew who this girl was

Landonorris: What, WHAT! How could he not tell me?

danielriccardo: HAHA, even I knew Username34: Daniel tell us what you know

Username98: She's not even pretty

Username20: Girl, just say your jealous

Liked by Maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, and 864K others

yourusername: I might be a Max Verstappen fan but I am a Ferrari fan through and through 😉

View all 5,146 comments

maxverstappen1: betrayed by my own girlfriend

Yourusername: 🙄 I said what I said

Username23: OMG, it's Max's mystery girlfriend

alexandrasaintmleux: can't wait to see you again 🩵

Maxiefan4: Our Pinterest girl

charles_leclerc: Everyone is a Ferrari fan

yourusername: Omg brain freeze, huge fan maxverstappen1: Oh lord, this can't be happening charles_leclerc: Stay jealous Verstappen

Username45: Gorgeous, stunning, a princess

Username67: UM, not Max fighting with Charles

maxverstappen1: not my fault, he's trying to steal my girlfriend yourusername: Such a baby Username67: Didn't expect him to actually reply.

Maleguyusername: Your pretty

maxverstappen1: Hey back off, she's mine yourusername: What are you, a dog that needs to pee on their territory 🐺 maxverstappen1: Acually I am a lion landonorris: CRINGE

Liked by DanielRiccardo, Redbull, and 3.5M others

maxverstappen1: Making this clear, my girlfriend is NOT a Ferrari fan and as you can see, she is wearing loud and proud Red Bull merch. So @charles_leclerc you suck. 🙂‍↕️

View all 8,387 comments

yourusername: When have I ever said that

maxverstappen1: you didn't have too charles_leclerc: You broke my heart Y/n maxverstappen1: Yeah get over it

alexandrasaintmleux: I want to do a double date, but I am scared of how these two children are gonna act.

yourusername: Who said they're coming? It's me, you, and Leo Charles_leclerc: Really, taking my own son yourusername: he likes me better anyway🤷

Princessusername47: WOW, Max is so petty, he even tagged Charles

landonorris: Thank goodness it wasn't me Princessusername47: Lando Norris just responded back to me, I could faint.

danielriccardo: How come I don't ever get an appreciation post!!

MaxVerstappen1: That's because you're not my girlfriend. danielriccardo: EXSQUEEZE ME, um, did our relationship mean anything to you yourusername: @danielriccardo get in line

RedbullUser53: I can't wait till they get married

Username870: Stop, best couple

redbullracing: Y/N, if I see you one more time in Ferrari gear, you can say bye-bye to those VIP passes to your favorite concert for your birthday

yourusername: Did I say I was a Ferrari fan? You must be mistaken. Always a Red Bull fan hehe. 😇 maxverstappen1: Liessssss🐍 yourusername: shut up, or you'll be sleeping on the couch 😙

Masterlist🩷

[gojoscinnamonroll]

wanna let him unwrap me & get on top of him by the fireplace..

cw: mdni + ageless blogs dni !! afab reader x choso kamo, reader and choso live together, mentions of marriage & children, lots of smooches, smut!!! , lingerie, everything is consented, p in v unprotected sexxxx, riding, missionary, switch! choso hehe, pet names, oral, breeding kink, swearing/profanity, creampies

a/n: HAPPY DECEMBER AND HOLIDAYS MY CUTIES!! ^_^ wc: 1.6k

“hm? a bow v-string panty? how cute.” you thought to yourself as you were in a lingerie boutique while out shopping with your friends, utahime and shoko, at the mall for presents for your lovers and family. you originally weren’t planning on stopping by for lingerie since you were out shopping for your loved ones' gifts but you remembered how you were needing some new underwear so you decided to stroll in for a moment since you were already out blowing money.

“oooh, are you gonna buy that to wear for your little cho cho?” shoko snickered.

your face flushed into a darker shade of pink than the blush you were already wearing from her remark. “sho, i love you but please shut up.” you mumbled, turning away from embarrassment.

“yeah shoko, shut it you weirdo.” utahime rolled her eyes in disgust. but you couldn’t help to anticipate that maybe this would be a cute little naughty surprise for your bashful boyfriend to add onto his christmas gifts. so you quickly grabbed the red pair and hid it under the rest of the undergarments you were already planning to purchase to head the register to check out. (and when the cashier had asked if you wanted to also purchase the matching bow bra that ties in the front, you definitely said yes.)

later that night when you got home from your shopping spree and started to put all your purchases away, you couldn't help but stare at the matching lingerie you had laying out on the dresser and imagine how your boyfriend choso will react. you heard choso walking in and hurriedly try to hide the underwear so that the surprise wouldn’t be ruined.

"hello baby, how was the mall? got any christmas shopping done?" pulling you in for a hug with a kiss to your forehead as he sets down some hot chocolate he made for you. "I did! I can't wait for you to see what I got you!" giving him a glittering smile.

"ooh! ooh ooh, is it that new gaming headset or the new game that just came out?" choso asked jumping up and down like a kid in a candy store. "noooo you silly!! I can't tell you, you have to wait until christmas! anyways, i'm going to go get dinner started." you held his cheek and kissed him walking away.

boy, was he in for a treat.

────

december 25th, 7am -

that morning, you had woken up earlier than usual to place the last few presents under the tree and get started on breakfast, being careful not to wake choso— the present you had for him waiting under the silk ivory robe you had on while getting the fireplace ready since it was a little chilly in your shared home. you heard the shuffling of footsteps coming from upstairs and your heart began to thump in excitement and nervousness.

as choso was heading downstairs, he stopped in his tracks absolutely starstruck at the sight before him— his gorgeous girlfriend under the tree, staring back at him like an angel.

“merry christmas, cho.” you purred while sitting on your heels.

“w- what is this baby?” he stammered with crimson tint to his cheeks. his heart jumping, (and so was something else) and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering as if he was falling in love with you all over again. you knew your boyfriend liked what he saw because it was obvious in those chestnut brown, doe eyes of his. “it’s your gifts!” playing dumb as you handed him the present with the game and new headphones he kept asking you for the last 3 months prior. “go ahead, open it!” clapping your hands in joy, but your smile faded as he set the gift to the side.

“that’s not what i’m talking about… i’m talking about..” he stopped to adore you, the way your pillowy breasts sat pretty in the bow-tied bra, and the way your panties hugged your hips, all while giving him an innocent look as if you don’t know what your doing to him. still sitting before him, he kneeled down to your level.

“this.” he lightly grazed his fingers over the big red bow on the front of your bra. “oh!-” still playing dumb. “it’s my new underwear! do you like it?” batting your eyelashes at him.

and with how he was eyeing you down, he might as well just have been drooling a puddle on the floor.

“y-yeah, i.. i do..” choso breathed out. you gently pulled him in to capture his lips with yours, him whining into the kiss. as the two of you pressed lips against each other and shared each other’s breath, you gently pushed him back just right in front of the fireplace to climb on top of him.

“fuck..” he moaned breathlessly in between kisses, “this is the best present i’ve gotten already.” you paused to admire his handsome face and leaned in, “well santa told me how much of a good boy you’ve been this year.” cooing in his ear as his gaze fall onto the pretty bow tied in between the valley of your breasts.

“can i untie this?” looking up at you through his long eyelashes.

“of course you can cho, i’m a present just like you said.” with those words, he began to unwrap the bow on your bra and gently caress your breasts once untied. his lips made their way to clasp around your nipples and drew circles with his tongue while his other hand began running up and down your soft body as you started grinding against the hard on in his pajamas— your poor boyfriend becoming overstimulated from the feeling because he started whimpering into your breasts.

“how bad do you want it?” you whispered sultrily into his ear, “i want it bad, now please. please baby i need it.” he begged with dilated pupils and a raspy voice.

you lifted your hips up a little to assist him in removing his bottoms and moved your floss of an underwear to the side to slowly sink down on his pulsating and achy cock. he let out the nastiest, pornographic and needy moan once you got all of him into you.

“mmp, you feel so f- fuck! so fucking good” he whined out. the sight below you so heavenly as you watch choso slowly become a wreck– his long dark hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, his eyes rolling back as you continue to bounce on him.

“gonna cum for me already, handsome?” tantalizing your poor lover. “b-baby, please slow down i don’t wanna cum yet, oh s-shit” but it was too late. he’s just too in love with you and the way you feel around him to control himself, tears falling from his eyes from how good you were pleasuring him but also because of how embarrassed he was that he came undone too quickly.

“it’s okay cho, i-” cradling him, but your breath hitched from surprise because he flipped you over to switch positions with you, him now being the one on top.

“i’m not done yet, you’re gonna take this cock for me princess.” he babbled, as if a light in his head had switched. he slipped the rest of your lingerie off, lining his swollen tip against your leaking slit before slowly burying himself inside as you let out a moan that was like music to his ears. once he bottomed out into you, he started thrusting in and out like a dog in heat.

“this is what you wanted right? to tease me? hah- cmon pretty, you can take it.” he was splitting you open so deliciously that you started seeing stars and began clenching around him like a vice.

“ch- cho please, s- slow down, you're too big” you choked out as you gripped onto his biceps and wrapped your thighs around his waist.

“look at me or i’ll stop.” he gently grabbed your chin, and you looked back up at him with glazed eyes. “you’re so pretty baby… i’m gonna marry you mmh- then i’m gonna give you babies that are pretty just like you.” gasping and looking into your eyes as he kept hitting that spot in you that was pushing you over the edge.

he felt too good. way too fucking good. you felt like you were getting sent into another world even. you and your cunt becoming a sloppy mess before him, lewd noises coming from the both of you, drool spilling from the side of your lips, your juices squirting all over his chiseled abs and maybe even onto the rug. but at this point, you were too cockdrunk too care. you could feel every vein of his gliding against your velvet walls as his swollen tip kept hitting your sweet spot.

"f-fuck, oh my g-" your voice trembling and eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm approaching. " 'm gonna c-cum!" writhing under him as your climax washes over you and sucks him in.

"y-your so tight wifey.. please let me cum in you please, I need to ngh!" his release painting your insides as he slams his hips into you one last final time, and it's almost taking everything in him not to propose to you while still being balls deep inside of you still.

as he slides his glistening dick out from you, some of his seed spill out, reminding him how much he has filled you up. and don't worry... he’s not letting one drop go to waste. he holds your thighs open to push the mess back in with his fingers.

once he gets you all cleaned up, he picks you up in bridal style. “that was the best christmas gift ever!" as he brushes the hair out of your face and gives you a loving and warm kiss on your flustered cheek.

"choooo!" you giggled, "don’t forget you still have to open the other gift i got you!!"

reblogs & likes are very much appreciated! pls don't copy or steal my works <3

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ christmas

synopsis: ever since you married regulus, you knew holidays were a bit complicated for him. so when the potters invite you both for christmas, he panics the whole way there, convinced sirius secretly hates him. but between toddler harry’s antics, warm welcomes, and an unexpected gift, maybe this christmas isn’t so bad after all content warnings: heavy emotions, crying (so much crying), brotherly angst & reconciliation, regulus overthinking everything, fluff overload author's note: i literally sobbed while writing this

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 2,301

Regulus Black rarely trembled. He was a man of precision, poise, and well-practiced restraint. Yet here he stood, fidgeting with the cuffs of his tailored coat, staring at the warmly lit Potter residence as though it were a dragon’s lair. His free hand clasped yours tightly, clammy despite the biting chill of December air.

“Amour,” he began nervously, his tone a mixture of urgency and dread, “are you certain the invitation was for me too? Perhaps Lily and James only meant you, and it would be terribly awkward if—”

“Reg.” You squeezed his hand, cutting through his spiral. “You’re overthinking this. They invited both of us. Lily wrote your name herself, remember? In that beautiful gold ink? You’re family.”

His jaw tensed, his grey eyes darting to the door and then back to you. “Family,” he echoed softly, the word heavy with doubt and hope intertwined. “It’s been years. Sirius—he’s—what if—”

“What if he’s been waiting for this moment?” you interrupted gently, reaching up to cup his face. His eyes softened, the worry in them breaking your heart. “You’re here because they want you here. And so do I. Sirius will come around, love. And if he doesn’t, you’ll have me to hex him. Alright?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, though his fingers still fidgeted. He leaned into your touch for a moment, taking a deep breath before he muttered, “I still think this might be a mistake.”

“It’s not,” you assured him, squeezing his hand again as you turned to knock on the door. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, his voice stopped you.

“Amour, wait,” he said quickly. “Are you absolutely certain? What if—”

You silenced him with a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. “Regulus Arcturus Black, if you ask me one more time, I’ll drag you inside myself.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he whispered, though his grip on your hand tightened as the door swung open.

Lily stood there, her radiant smile lighting up the wintry evening. “You’re here!” she exclaimed warmly, pulling you into a hug before turning to Regulus. Her arms wrapped around him without hesitation, her genuine affection clear. “Regulus, welcome.”

He stiffened at first, his posture rigid and uncertain. But then, slowly, he returned the hug, a quiet “Thank you” escaping him. You could see the way his shoulders began to relax, the faintest sheen of tears in his eyes as he pulled back.

“Come in, come in,” Lily urged, her excitement genuine as she ushered you both inside.

James appeared next, his grin as boyish as ever. “Look who decided to join the fun!” he teased, clapping Regulus on the shoulder. “About time, mate.”

“James,” Regulus greeted stiffly, his voice carefully polite but uncertain. He glanced at you, and you smiled encouragingly. James didn’t seem fazed by Reg’s formality, stepping aside with a welcoming gesture.

Before anyone could say more, a small figure darted out from behind James, a mop of black hair bouncing as the toddler jumped forward with a loud “BAH!” aimed directly at Regulus.

Regulus froze, staring down at the child with wide eyes. Harry, oblivious to the tension, pouted, his tiny face scrunching in disappointment. “He’s not scared!” he whined, looking up at James for confirmation.

“Oh no,” Regulus said suddenly, his voice low and serious. He stepped back dramatically, clutching his chest as though struck. “You’ve frightened me terribly!” His grey eyes widened in mock terror, and his hand shot to yours for support.

Harry’s pout disappeared instantly, replaced by an elated giggle. “I scared him!” he cried, jumping up and down with glee. “Mum, I scared him!”

“You sure did, darling!” Lily laughed, beaming at her son.

James ruffled Harry’s hair with exaggerated pride. “Great job, young man. Now, go on, bring your uncle and aunt inside.”

Regulus froze at the word, his gaze snapping to James. He seemed to falter for a moment, swallowing hard as emotion flickered across his face. Then, a tiny tug on his coat brought him back.

“Come on, Uncle!” Harry demanded with a toothy grin, his little hands pulling insistently.

Regulus stared down at him, his breath catching. Slowly, hesitantly, a small, soft smile crept onto his lips. He bent down and lifted Harry into his arms, the toddler laughing as he looped his arms around Reg’s neck.

You watched, your chest tightening with emotion as tears pricked your eyes. The sight of Regulus, holding Harry so tenderly despite his nerves, was enough to overwhelm you. He turned to you, his smile shy but genuine, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss both his cheek and Harry’s.

“See?” you whispered against his ear. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Regulus didn’t reply, but the tear that slipped down his cheek as he carried Harry inside said everything.

The warmth of the Potter home enveloped you as you wandered into the kitchen, leaving Regulus in the living room with Harry still babbling excitedly in his arms. The sound of laughter and soft music filled the air, and the smell of something sweet baking teased your senses. You stepped inside, only to pause at the sight before you.

Peter Pettigrew and Mary Macdonald stood by the counter, hands brushing as they decorated a tray of cookies. Peter was a blushing mess, his usually pale cheeks bright pink as Mary whispered something that had him grinning like a schoolboy.

You cleared your throat loudly, hiding a smirk as they jumped apart, the spatula Mary had been holding clattering onto the counter. Peter looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Mary’s blush matched the rosy frosting she was piping.

“Am I interrupting something?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe.

“Bun!” Peter exclaimed, his voice a bit too high-pitched as he tried to regain his composure. “You’re here! We were just… uh, baking! Cookies!”

Mary rolled her eyes fondly but recovered quicker, smiling warmly at you. “Welcome, sweetie. It’s so good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too,” you replied with a chuckle. “And no need to explain. You two are adorable, by the way.”

Peter fumbled with the tray of cookies, muttering something under his breath as Mary handed you a warm one to taste. “Here, try these,” Peter said eagerly, watching your expression with nervous anticipation.

You bit into the cookie and hummed appreciatively. “Delicious. Seriously, you two make a great team in the kitchen. And overall.”

Peter blushed, but before he could say anything, Regulus stepped into the room. His presence seemed to shift the energy, quieting Peter’s usual bumbling nature.

“Regulus,” Mary greeted him brightly, her grin widening as you gave her a nod. She quickly plated a few cookies and handed them to him. “Here, try one. We’ve been working on these for ages.”

Regulus took the plate with a small, reluctant smile, glancing briefly at you as if for guidance. He picked up a cookie and took a careful bite, pausing as the flavors settled. Then, to everyone’s surprise, his lips curved into the faintest smile.

“They’re wonderful, Mary,” he said softly, nodding in approval.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “And?”

Regulus hesitated, his gaze flickering to Peter, who was looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “...And Peter,” he added with a slight smirk.

Mary and Peter both grinned, looking utterly pleased with themselves. “Thanks, Regulus,” they said in unison, earning a chuckle from you.

The lighthearted moment was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. You turned to see Remus stepping in, his tall frame illuminated by the kitchen lights. He smiled warmly, his gaze soft as it landed on you.

“Dove,” he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. “You look lovely as ever.” Then, turning to Regulus, he nodded. “Glad you made it, Regulus. Sirius will be joining in a minute.”

Regulus stiffened at those words, his hand instinctively seeking yours as his usual calm façade faltered. After exchanging pleasantries with Remus, he pulled you aside, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper.

“Did you hear him?” Regulus asked, his panic barely contained. “‘Sirius will be joining in a minute.’ That’s code for ‘he’s furious I’m here.’ I knew this was a mistake. Oh, Merlin, I should leave. I’ll just make an excuse—would they believe me if I said Barty accidentally set Evan on fire?”

You tried not to laugh, gently placing your hands on his shoulders. “Reg, no one’s furious you’re here. Sirius might be dramatic, but he doesn’t hate you. And yes, they would believe that excuse, love. But just stay with me, okay? You’re doing fine.”

Regulus opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of a door opening again silenced him. Both of you turned as Sirius stepped into the room, his grey eyes instantly locking onto you.

“Doll,” Sirius greeted with a grin, pulling you into a quick hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you replied, giving him a warm smile.

Then Sirius’s gaze shifted to Regulus. His expression softened slightly, though his tone held a quiet intensity as he spoke. “Can I talk to you alone, Regulus?”

Regulus tensed beside you, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. His wide eyes darted to you in panic, but you just smiled reassuringly and leaned in to whisper, “You’ve got this.”

You blew him a quick kiss before stepping away, leaving him and Sirius alone in the kitchen. As you walked out, you caught Sirius glancing at you, his face unreadable, before turning back to his brother.

Sirius leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he studied his brother with a carefully neutral expression. Regulus, for his part, was stiff as ever, his fingers twitching slightly as he tried to suppress his nerves.

“So…” Sirius began, dragging the word out. “You’re here.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I am. And you’re here.”

Sirius’s lips twitched upward in a small, begrudging smile. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

Regulus shifted on his feet. “You too.”

An awkward silence settled between them, the kind that years of estrangement couldn’t quite fill. Sirius scratched the back of his neck, clearly searching for the right words. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I actually have something for you,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Regulus blinked, startled. “You… do?”

Sirius nodded, his usual bravado muted as he turned and disappeared into the hallway. Regulus stood frozen, glancing back at the kitchen door as if considering fleeing, but before he could, Sirius returned. In his hands was a small package, wrapped haphazardly in parchment and tied with a crooked ribbon.

“Here,” Sirius said, shoving it toward him. “It’s, uh, not much.”

Regulus stared at the package, his brow furrowing. “I wasn’t aware there was going to be gift exchanging.”

“There’s not,” Sirius replied quickly, waving him off. “Just take it, alright?”

Regulus hesitated, then reached out and accepted the gift with the same care one might use to handle a priceless artifact. He carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper, revealing a neatly folded sweater inside. The soft fabric was midnight blue, and embroidered on the chest was a constellation—the Regulus star, shining bright—and a black dog stitched beside it, looking up toward the stars.

For a moment, Regulus just stared at it, his fingers brushing over the stitching. His throat tightened, and when he finally looked up, his eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

“I…” he began, but his voice failed him.

Sirius, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, began rambling. “I, uh, had some help from Remus, of course. I’m rubbish with sewing—nearly stabbed myself a dozen times. And the constellation—Remus said it should be accurate, so we looked it up in one of his star charts, and—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Regulus surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Sirius. A quiet sob escaped him as he buried his face against Sirius’s shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding.

Sirius froze for a moment before exhaling shakily. A small smile tugged at his lips as he returned the embrace, his own tears slipping free as he clung to his younger brother.

They stayed like that for a long moment, the tension between them melting away in the quiet of the kitchen.

When Regulus finally pulled back, his face was tear-streaked but calmer. Sirius gave him a lopsided grin and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m pretty sure dinner’s ready. And you know how James gets when people are late to the table.”

Regulus nodded, wiping his face as he smiled faintly. “Alright.”

Together, they stepped into the kitchen, their bond mended in a way neither had expected when the evening began. Everyone glanced up as they entered, noticing the tear tracks on both their faces, but no one said a word. Instead, they simply smiled and made room for the two brothers to join the gathering.

Regulus slid into the seat beside you, and Sirius took his place next to Remus. You gave Regulus a soft, knowing smile, gently squeezing his hand under the table. He squeezed back, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

The room soon filled with laughter as Harry began reenacting his earlier “scare” on an unsuspecting Remus, who pretended to faint dramatically. James and Lily chuckled, Mary and Peter exchanged amused glances, and Sirius leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around Remus as he laughed at Harry’s antics.

As you looked around the table, your hand still intertwined with Regulus’s, you couldn’t help but think that this was what Christmas was truly about—family, love, and finding light even after the darkest of times.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[p1astr81]

second dad zone is so cute omg, i love it. can you write the reader's reaction when oscar tells her what isla said? and isla calls him dad again in front of her. thanks queen <3

OOOOOH OSCAR PIASTRI POLEEEEEE

I started tearing up writing this idk why

It was nearing six in the afternoon when you finally got home. You felt bad. You told Oscar it would just be a few hours. It was never meant to take that long.

You walked in the door to see Oscar with his phone in his hand, standing facing the empty hallway. He smiled when he saw you, greeting you with a small, “hey baby,” and a peck to your cheek. You immediately started apologizing for the tardiness, for not following up, for taking up his weekend off.

He quickly dismissed your apologies. “It’s alright. I had fun with her today.” He smiled. “And I think she called me dad?”

You furrowed your brows. “Think?”

“Yeah, she said ‘you’re such a good dad,’ while we were watching tv.” his eyes shined with optimism.

But yours flickered with hesitation. “Aw.” You cooed, but he could tell something was off.

“What is it?” He questioned, taking a glance down the hallway.

You bit your cheek. “Life is unpredictable.” You said after a moments silence. “I don’t want her to get attached and then I have to take another father figure away from her.” You shook your head. “Not that I’m anticipating for us to break up, because believe me that’s the last thing I want, but you know.” You paused. “Anything can happen.”

He understood. He always did. And he always knew how to ease your worries. “Then I guess I’ll just have to marry you to make it harder for us to break up.” He chuckled, forgetting everything else as he leaned over to kiss you.

A screech pulled you apart. “Mumma!” Isla cheered, sprinting down the hall in one of her princess dresses. She clung onto your leg, and you hoisted her into your arms.

“Lando told me you guys weren’t just friends! I knew he was right!” She declared, eyes darting between the two of you as if daring you to deny her claims.

Oscar chuckled, speaking before you got the chance. “You caught us, Issy bug.”

“What are you all dressed up for, love?” You changed the topic.

“Oscar and I played dress up!”

“It was more of a fashion show.” He shrugged.

The next time he dropped by was over a week later.

You were with isla in the playroom, playing with Barbie’s when he called out. She jumped up, little legs rushing behind you as you made your way to the entryway to greet him.

Just before you reached him, isla pushed you out of the way. She tried her best to wrap her arms around his legs. He picked her up while giggles spilled from her lips. “How have my girls been?” He asked, kissing Isla’s head and then your cheek.

“I’ve-“

“Daddy can we go to the park?!” Isla interrupted, big eyes full of hope looking up at him.

Your lips curved in a pout, tears welling in your eyes.

Isla noticed because of course she did. She frowned. “Mummy what’s wrong?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing, baby. I think the park sounds nice.” You smiled and chuckled. Isla giggled hearing that, clapping her hands together.

In the car, you occupied her with some toys.

“She called you daddy.” You recalled in hushed tones like you couldn’t believe it.

He glanced at you, a small smile warming his lips. “Is that alright?”

You nodded. “If it’s alright with you.”

In response, he took your hand in his and kissed the back of your hand.

“Lando said you’re going to get married. What does that mean?”

Oscar had to keep his laughter to himself. “It means you and mummy get to dress like real princesses.” He told her, looking at her in the rear view mirror. He watched as her eyes lit up.

“Are you getting married soon?” She gasped.

Your face burned, and you hid behind your hand. “I think so, honey.” Oscar replied, squeezing your hand.

The back seat erupted in screeching cheers.

“We’ve gotta keep him away from her before he tells her something really bad.”

You had your worries going into this, especially when Oscar first told you isla called him ‘dad’. But as you watched him play hide and seek with her on the playground, you knew everything would be just fine.