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screampied · 1 year ago

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‘ CANDY BOY ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. who would have thought that the #1 camboy in your city was no one other than your virgin roommate gojo, who’s totally putting on a show for his fangirls. he talks too much, but maybe you can shut his mouth and put his sweetened little fantasies to reality.

wc. 5.8k

warnings. fem! reader, camboy!gojo, college au, gojo's a virgin, switch! gojo, unprotected, dirty talk, he gets pússy drunk quick, overstim, "good boy" usage, cunnilıngus, premature ejaculating, nipple play, lots of spıt, handjōbs.

if someone would have told you that your loser of of a roommate who stuffs his mouth with a bit too many sweets, cries at romcoms, and is just an overall dork was a camboy, you’d call them crazy. batshit crazy even, yet that’s exactly what happened—

gojo was rightfully one of the top camboys in the city, probably in the world too. he was sort of a household name, it was more of a side hustle for him. he did it only for the money—sure, he adored his fans, even the ones that went a little too extreme with the provocative thirsting. but that’s all part of the job, he’s about seven months strong in his little gig. every saturday and sunday, he logs on under the user of: @/GOJOSLUTORU.

the moment that same notification pops up that he’s live, a plethora of his fans join immensely, wondering just what their favorite camboy satoru was up to today. his streams would last for a good two hours—longer sometimes if it was some kind of special event where he’d reach a massive amount of donations, a special treat for his fans. gojo was beloved for his flirty personality, he’d make his fangirls swoon with his words, despite knowing full well he doesn’t know the first thing on how to please a lady.

that’s until you came along—more like catching him right in the act. it couldn’t have been any more embarrassing though. eleven thousand eyes were cheering him on, showering him with lewd "good boy" praises until you drop your bag.

“satoru?” you utter, curling your brow into a surprised furrow once you take in the scene in front of you. tossing the spare set of keys into the bin, you glance at your roommate—he freezes mid stroke with the most flustered expression. his hands were a bit … occupied, and a glimpse of a familiar cloth you once wore catches your eye. “are those my panties?”

“no….?”

with a deadpan, your shoulders drop before you drag your feet towards him to take a quicker look. oh, those were definitely your panties. so that’s where they ran off too. gojo tries to shield his nude exposed lower half with a nearby towel but it’s no use—you saw everything you needed to see.

“anywhooo,” he swallows, taking a brief peer at his chat that was flooding with all types of questions. they wanted to see you, they wanted to see gojo’s pretty roommate who he’s always rambling about on stream. clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair before pitching his tone. he tries to sound more attractive but ends up butchering right away, stuttering at his first pathetic sentence. “ i- i didn’t think you’d get here so early. how was the exam?”

“it was … fine,” you mumble, barely acknowledging his words. your mind was racing vigorously, trying to process how you’d just seen your roommate half naked. going up behind him, you lean in towards his neat set up—you grew a bit curious, immediately, your eyes meet the other eyes that stare back at you. near the top right displayed his large following of eight hundred thousand, the top left displays his current view count, a whopping amount of almost twelve thousand. peeking at the chat, you’re met with dozens of freshly new comments saying how pretty you are, asking if you’re his girlfriend he always talks about, and so on. “you’re a camboy?”

“heh, camboy’s kind of an exaggeration but,” and he’s nervous, you can hear the slight tremor in his voice. it’s cute, gojo was prepared for you to judge him for his side hustle but instead you don’t. he relaxes a bit, shifting his attention away from his crude chat and towards you. “i like to label myself as a um, streamer..”

you have a growing simper. “i don’t think streamers usually get naked for their audience,” and you take a quick stare at his attire—he was practically shirtless, his boxers were covered although he was wearing some kind of tank that had ‘submissive and breedable’ printed on the very front. you furrow your eyebrow, though you choose not to question it. his nervously sly smile only grows once he catches your eyes quite literally checking him out. glancing at the comments again, you hum. “why do they keep asking if i’m your girlfriend? you don’t have a girlfr-”

“woah, s-shut up!” he whines, cupping a hand over your mouth. you giggle, feeling the warmth of his palm rub against your lips. gojo lowers his voice, speaking in a faint whisper. “they think you’re my girlfriend,” and he peels his hand away before running a finger down his nape. “i told them that because-”

“satoru,” you roll your eyes, noticing how he was quite stiff with his body language. being this close to you, your mere elegant fragerence was so exhilarating for him. you made him this nervous, truth be told ; you were far too caught up in your academics to even realize your roommate had a little crush on you. however, you do wish you found out in a more … non less of a lewd way, a way where he wasn’t caught red-handed fondling with a pair of your pretty sage-colored panties. with a sigh, you mumble to him. “you wanna fuck, don’t you?”

that’s definitely not what he thought you was gonna say,

with pouty shimmery lips, gojo’s eyes widen before a sheepish grin marinates against his features. “pft. do i wanna fuck, whaaat?” and he doesn’t even last a second before sighing, dropping his head down in defeat. “y-yes..”

the ringing from his monitor — dozens of women sending him gifts, tickets, donations, begging for their favorite camboy to notice him only gets more disruptive.

the ringing grows louder, the repetitive chiming sound of bells, the blaring notification it makes whenever someone sends him a sweet contribution. pretty soon, he was on the verge of meeting yet another goal. ever since you got spotted on the stream, his viewer count doubled.

“well, why didn’t you just ask? besides, there’s other ways than using my panties to get off.” and a wave of embarrassment washes over his face. the towel’s still covering his torso before he shoots you a shy smile. any closer you could’ve got to him and he thought he was gonna explode. the heat radiating from you had his head going in a crazed ditz. stroking his cheek, you speak softly.

“i’m sorry,” he whines, bottom lip poking out. you end up sitting flat on his lap, and instinctively, the curvature of your waist was met with two big hands snaking around it. you’re so pretty like this, he wanted you so so bad. swallowing, he peeks towards his chat before you cup both of his temples to stare right back into your eyes. “i was gonna ask you but- but i’ve never done this, you know,” and the way you slide a finger behind his neck, skimming the texture of your middle finger down his undercut snatches a purr from him. “i- i want you, but i just don’t know what to do with like .. i wanna make sure that i don’t embarrass myself.”

oh, he couldn’t have been any more cuter,

you heard the slight crack in gojo’s voice at the end of his candied sentences before you sling your arms over him. “don’t be embarrassed,” you softly reply, still straddling his lap. “i can always show you how.” and he gulps, your voice was smooth as silk. sweet as honey, the more you strum your thumb down his undercut, the more he can hear the rapid pulse of his heart beat throb through his ears. the simplicity of your touch was enough to have him weak.

“please..” he murmurs in a hushed tone, loving the way how gentle, how tender you were with your touch. gojo mewls out a needy whimper, feeling a sudden tent rise near between his legs. he was hard, you’d giften him a pretty solid boner and whilst you were propped up on his lap, you felt it rub against you all too well.

gojo awaits for you to make the first move, but you’re teasing . . seeing if he was going to initiate, and he does, inching his sheeny lips into yours.

your roommate pulls you into a deep kiss, he tastes like candy, candied. with your arms still occupied, wrapping around him, you glide your tongue against his, parting lips, teeth clashing amongst each other in sync. you could hear the faint sounds of whimpers run from his lips, he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands though—so gingerly, a hand of his strums down your back, giving the fabric that stuck against your skin a soft yank. he wanted you, the strain beneath his half on boxers only grows the more he starts to suck on your tongue.

heavy, wheezing breaths collide against each other, hitting each moving muscle like a wave,

he’s so eager,

gojo’s mind clears everything out of his head and he’s just focused on you. the saccharine tang of your signature lip gloss, he tastes it and it’s so delicious.

through cerulean-pristine hazed peripherals, gojo looks towards his chat to read some of the comments . .

chososdoublehomicide: i miss choso

zorosthroatwarmer293: i wanna be gojo >:( she’s so pretty

secksybabeamy: Hey hot stuff ;) Subscribe to my only fans!

throatgoatemily: His whines omg

as the kiss deepens, gojo whines once your hand slithers its way down between his legs. slowly removing the towel that sheaths his exposed body, you feel against his dick. at first touch, he whimpers, then whines, then whimpers again.

he was so pent up—you could feel it, you were gentle with your fingers, brushing it against the length of his dick before gently wrapping a hand around its girth. gojo moans in your mouth, feeling hitched breaths arise from his lungs. he could never get enough of how fucking sweet you were,

and he didn’t even want to.

pulling away for a long gasp of fresh air, he bites his lip as he looks down to feel your hands stroke his cock. gojo had quite the staggering inches on him, he shivers at how precise your hand movements were—

up and down,

with a hand of yours gripping over his fat length, a thumb of yours runs down the vein that coats his shaft. its pulsing, he’s needy for more of your touch so bad that it sends shockwaving static to rigorously coarse through his bouquet of neurons.

“y-your hand feels so much better than mine, heh,” he breathes, swallowing the imaginary balled up lump that resides near the back of his throat. blue irises, dilated and all stares at you—a hand reaches towards your back before his thigh starts to bounce. “not to be weird but i kinda had a dream about this, angel.”

“a dream about me stroking you?” you hum, amused before sneaking a wet kiss near the crook of his twitching lips.

gojo nods wearily, forever deeply captured by your beauty. your hands swiftly resumes to stroke him, feeling the tender skin that lives near his frenulum peel back every few seconds. gojo moans, burying his face into the very depths of your neck. so desperate, he wanted more and more. “aw, is this too much? should i slow down?”

“no.. don’t stop,” and his desperate plea was so sweet, though he wanted to go further. you giggle once he suddenly lifts you up, dragging you towards the bed. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry. can’t wait anymore,” and he hovers over you with that crazed look of total desire. “can i … eat you out?”

with a coy smile, you’re laid on your back as he just stands over you — eyes gawking at your entire physique, the way your thighs were all out with the short hem of your shorts reaching against your ass. you could tell gojo was impatient, that hungry stare in his eye never once faded.

“yeah,” you coo, parting your legs slowly. oh, you were a fucking tease.

not only were you a tease for him, you were a simple force to be reckoned with. no panties on either, gojo felt himself get hard yet again before he kneels down. with your roommate positioning himself between your legs, he lets off a soft sigh.

combing your fingers through his soft tangles, he looks up at you with a craving yet impish expression. you giggle, making him look right into your eyes. peering at his chat that was going ballistic over his girlfriend, you speak in a soft tone. “do you know how to even eat pussy, ‘toru? i can h-”

“girl i know how to eat pussy,” he grumbles, and he sounds almost offended at you asking if he needed any sorts of help.

sure—gojo literally didn’t know the first thing of eating a woman out, maybe visually.

but now that he’s up close, he has to stop himself from folding right then and there. so soaked, he gets a full view of your slick entrance, your pussy was the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes upon so far.

as he’s a few inches a apart, with sprawled open thighs—the last thing you’d expect was for to gojo to start drooling all on your cunt. a stringy, syrupy concoction of his own saliva pours out of his mouth and onto your folds. just a quick glimpse and he’s pussy drunk. fuck, he’s more embarrassed than he’s ever been but he can’t help it. gojo didn’t even get a taste and he’s already salivating at the sight of your sopping wet arousal. a thumb of yours wipes the spit that dribbles near the corner of his mouth and he whines at your touch again before he finally digs in.

lolling out his tongue, the very tip licks near the inner moistened entrance of your pulled out labia. gojo for probably the umpteenth time lays his tongue flat before he goes all in. a broad left hand of his attach towards the fat of your thigh as he remakes a long striping lick. “s-shiiit, ‘toru.” you gasp, the coldness on his tongue taking you by sheer surprise.

the texture of it .. you’re weak, gnawing on metaphoric bars of your enclose as well as the skin on your lip, you whine.

for someone who’s never had much experience, let alone no experience, you’d easily second guess. your back arches forward while gojo’s tongue rummages through every part of your clit. he sucks on your nub, closing his eyes and fully sinks into bliss. gojo’s pristine white brows cock into a furrow before he slides a thumb down your wet entrance. he just can’t get over how wet you were for him. sopping wet, inept lips of his constantly quivers before he gives your cunt a sweet kiss.

wet for him, he breaks his lips away for a few seconds just to smear his face against your pussy.

“m-mhm,” he whimpers, wanting your scent to linger on his face for as long as it could, your scent .. it was hard to not get obsessed, a few minutes in and he already felt his mouth watering.

as bundles of minuscule taste buds of his tingle with excitement — his tongue swiftly swirls through every orifice, not missing any spot. he searched through the gooey crevices of your walls, lips moving in complete tandem. his dick strains between his thighs that it’s almost painful.

if eating you out tasted this good, he only imagined what it’d feel like to be inside,

shoved deep into your pussy, stuffing you full with his luscious thickset inches . .

that same repeated whine that always sounds raw dies straight out of your esophagus, you yank on the strands of your roommate’s messy hair as his pace quickens by a mile. in the midst of devouring your heat, a broad hand of his caresses near the juncture of your thighs—he kisses the long slope inside of your entrance, lips all glossy and glittering with gloss thanks to you. that same panging throb starts to grow within you again. your toes curl up tightly before your eyes meet the drywall splattered on the ceiling. his tongue, the way it continues to scrabble all through every part of your cunt, he grows addicted almost immediately. gojo can’t help but lather a few sloppy kisses on your folds, sliding his tongue through your slit.

he even starts to tongue fuck you, softly thrusting the swollen tip of his tongue in and out until you’re about to whine out again for him.

that was his favorite part by far, pushing his tongue in and out of your puffy folds — relishing the way your pretty pussy coats the underside of his chin with a lustrous amount of sweet, burnished slick.

“ngh, ‘toru,” you’d wail, and your hips start to jitter against his face. he doesn’t mind . . in fact, gojo brings two hands to grip against the curves of your hips.

once he maintains a secure grasp, he lets you rub your wetness all over him. with his tongue thoroughly exploring in every part, he starts to whine too .. so eager to touch himself but he wants to keep his hands on you. a whiny whimper wrenches from the back of your throat before you start to babble. “satoru, ‘m gonna cum, fuuuck. jus’ like that, keep l-lickin’ there, baby.”

he was such a quick learner, part of you thinks he maybe had more experience than you oughta thought. gojo can’t help but attack your sweet syrupy folds with a multitude of kisses, drooling lips of his making you more sticky than you already were. your legs could barely hold themselves open.

he had to pry them open with clammy hands, slurping in every drop as if he was dehydrated with thirst. a thirst you happily quenched with him being propped between your legs. after a while, he runs a thumb down your slit once more, pretty eyes glancing up at you, wanting to see your sweet face. “a-am i doin’ a good job?” and his voice was a bit hoarse, the way he speaks, drooping eyes and a sheepish grin—visibly pussy drunk, you grab onto his strands before rocking your hips into his mouth. he giggles, muffled noises eliciting from his mouth, taking your eager jittery movements as a yes.

he just couldn’t get enough of his roommate’s taste.

occasionally, he likes to depart his lips to gather a nice concoction of saliva—only to then spit right onto your sopping folds, whining at how it was so shiny. so pretty, he’s mesmerized again at how it looks, and you end up cumming with the cutest shrieking orgasm. it snatches out of you roughly, your speech is slurred for a moment as your legs quaver in utmost pleasure.

you’re shaking, feeling him clean you up with the flatness of his tongue—gojo moans, white lashes fluttering as he takes your beauty in. this was so much better than one of his risqué wet dreams. so much better,

without even a single word leaving from his lips, he gets up to pull you into a kiss. almost immediately, you taste yourself that lingers on his tounge. it tastes sweet, gojo props himself between your thighs as you sit up, a free hand of his sliding between your stretched out legs. the constant rings of his donations continue to scream out that same annoying chime before he leans in to shut his computer. he’d probably have left so many—thousands of his fan girls devastated, but there was only a new fan girl he was fixated on.

you.

gojo was addicted, with tongues colliding against each other, hot breaths wafting against each own, he feel his breath hitch at your touch. a hand of yours snakes down to feel on his erect dick. he whines, gnawing at the bottom of your lip before his tongue gets more curious. he licks the bottom of your chin, the side of your mouth, only to then pull you into another deep kiss. “f-fuck, ‘m so hard,” he rasps between sultry kisses, heaving from each breath. you still couldn’t get over the taste of yourself that loiters all on the flat of his pink tongue. “i wanna feel you from the inside, angel.”

“but your stream,” you tease once he finally pulls away, taking a second to catch your breath yourself. you felt the heat roam across the room before stroking his cheek — flushed lips of his burn with such intensity, you had him feral. “your fans, i wouldn’t wanna interrupt them, ‘toru.”

“fuck them,” he pouts, the cute frown on his face tugging against his lips. “okay that’s mean, they help me pay rent but just- i want you right now,” and he’s so needy. he paws at your t-shirt, glossy eyes widening, god. his bottom lip pokes out, squinting for two seconds before seeing how your nipples invitingly poke out. so perky, he could feel his mouth watering sporadically. he lays you back before swallowing, a loud gulp before he hovers over you. “you knew this was gonna happen, didn’t y-you? such a tease.”

you simper, opening your legs for him and he gets a good glimpse. gojo sucks his teeth, still so soaked. he only dreamt of what you’d feel like inside.

probably so tight and warm,

the more he thinks about it, the more he could feel himself starting to drool. gojo’s panting as if he’d just finished a marathon. a hand of his wraps around his length—giving it a few solid pumps. “i thought you’d wanna do doggy for your first position,” you sweetly say, and oh, he pouts for you again. you sit up, awaiting for him to take the lead first before smiling. “missionary though? you’re not so good with eye contact, baby.”

“i know how to do missonry.” he grumbles.

“missionary,” you correct him with a titter.

he pouts again, preparing to align himself. so wet, your pussy was sopping wet, swollen from just being eaten out so good. a warm breath fans out through his lips before he rubs it against your slippery slit. “and don’t call me baby,” he moans, although the simple pet name for him a lot harder than he thought it would. slowly, gojo’s fat leaky tip continues to ghost against your folds. you hold back a sweet moan, laid all out on display for him on the mattress. he’s waited for this moment, had dreams about it, even fantasized about it. “fuck,” he’d huff out, and his voice cracks. you’d laugh but he’s staring at you the entire time with that cute pouty expression. “can- can we hold hands? for you know, leverage?”

“leverage, sure,” you play along, your fingers locking against his. damp, perspiring palms squeeze against yours before his rounded tip starts to slowly make its way inside. immensely, a breath gets caught in his throat and he whines. the warmth he’s rudely greeted with makes him gnaw his pearly whites together. “you’re kinda b-big, so go a little slow, ‘toru.”

“i’m big?” he repeats—cutely enough, it boosts his ego that you think so, yet his confidence fades the further he dumps a few hefty inches into your entrance. as you expected, you were a bit tight and stiff for a few seconds—unyielding against him for a moment, you moan. saying gojo was big was a mere understatement, he couldn’t help but lean in to lay against your chest. “how’s it feel? s-slower?”

“it’s good. that’s good,” you start to heave, gasping once he inches his head closer to latch his lips against your neglected cold nipples. he doesn’t even lift up your t-shirt, he runs his tongue through the fabric and sucks on your perked tits. “t-toru, fuckk.”

it was a soft twinge sensation at first before he’s close to bottoming out . . so close,

it’s at the moistened tip of his tongue. gojo’s shaft resumes to go in further, you feel him pulse inside before once he’s all the way in, he’s already out of breath. with his mouth occupied—he’s still sucking on your nipples through the shirt, whiney. a free hand of his runs gives your left thigh a nice firm grasp before he starts up a single few thrusts.

you whine, tossing your arms over him and he glances down at you—beads of sweat race down the sides of his brow before he sits up in a proper position. gojo can’t get over how pretty you look for him like this, he’s fully in and he sneaks a kiss onto your lips. “can i m-move?” and the falter in his voice was adorable, gojo’s breath continues to get more heavy before you give him a nod. he peppers various kisses near your mouth, neck, and of course, your precious chest. his personal favorite,

with frail arms wrapped around him, pulling him close—you run your ankle down his back and he moans. “oh, ‘s even better than i imagined,” he whispers against your ear, hot breath sending you antsy judders. the more his breath goes against your skin, the more you smell how minty it was. fresh, you desperately yearned for more so you pull him into another kiss for the nth time. “ugh. the way you clamp down, ‘s gonna kill me,” he babbles in a low puff. he’s speaking between staring up at decent pace for you to get accustomed to. you whimper, trying to get adjusted to his barreling length but he was just so fucking big. it was an ongoing rumor that between gojo—and his best friend suguru geto had the top biggest dicks. of course, you always wondered exactly how whoever started that rumor would even know, but gojo was definitely a packer. he stretched you out in ways you’ve never felt before. with strained breaths, he coats your mouth with many wet kisses. time and time again, the feeling of himself going into you raw has him drooling again. “pussy’s so wet, ‘m gonna die, oh my god.”

“don’t be dramatic, you’re not gonna die.” you try to reassure him. the grip on your hand only grows tighter, crimson lips of his suck against the underside of your chin.

so damn needy,

mussed strands of white tickle against your forehead the closer he presses his body into you. gojo was shivering, just a few minutes in pussy and as if it was a game—he’d be on the last level, game over. albeit, you feel it too. the warmth, it turns into a sweltering hot. as his hips rock, his whines start to become more vocal. he sneaks a hand down to feel the area that’s being stuffed, a thumb skims against your tummy before he moans,

“feel me t-there, yeah?” he whispers, a cute attempt at dirty talk but alas, it’s subtle. gojo easily folds once your eyes meet his gaze.

you moan, intertwining your fingers with his, moaning out a soft, “yeah,” and you sound out of breath yourself.

he’s jerking back and forth — his pace, his tempo . . wasn’t too slow or two fast, perfect.

with a quivering bottom lip, he leans in to lick against the outer shell of your ear. your cunt’s singing in harmony, sloshes of wet that leaves its metaphoric vocal cords and you start to get a bit louder. “f-fuck, ‘toru right there—fuuuck.”

“s-shit, you’re so pretty,” he pants, repeating his ways at coating your entire face with his wet kisses. you had him weak, entirely. you found it a bit silly considering how this could have happened anytime—anytime at all, all he had to do was ask. but gojo being gojo, he was not only a man with barely any experience, but he was nervous. he’s always had a bit of a crush on you but confessing sounded way scary. it was as if this entire thing was mere coincidence though, you happen to find out he’s not only a sloppy eater but,

he’s a camboy.

part of you wonders what he does on his streams. if you saw him rubbing one off while thinking about you—you could only imagine what other lewd antics he participated in.

gojo’s rutting into you at a much more quicker pace, he’s whining into your neck;

forgetting to praise you, and it’s more of the other way around. you’re cupping his face, stroking his cheek before repeating in that same melodic voice, “good boy, ‘s so good, makin’ me feel good, ‘toru baby.”

your voice, oh your voice, he could listen to it all day. you feel the constant twitch of his cock inside you and he whines every time your ankle rubs down his back. with the way your pussy holds him hostage— it’s so provocative, his reaction time was as slow as a sloth, droopy eyes stare at you before he grunts out a pleading, “f-fuck, ‘s gonna come,” and his voice sounds like a soft purr, gojo was like a kitten to you— so cute, his pout always make things more true too. he’s groaning in your ear, fat balls thwacking against you before his ears starts to ring. you’re moaning with him, bodies thrusting in sync that it’s almost like a pornographic choreography. “ugh, i- i feel it, ‘m gonna cum so much. so hot, gonna die.”

“breathe, baby,” you whisper, pulling his face closer to you. his chubby cheeks squish together once he’s within your grasp, the sharp piston of his hips makes you moan. his thrusts gets a bit sloppy and you press a kiss onto his mouth. “mwah,” you hum, watching how flustered he gets at a lick of your affection. “you wanna finish inside, don’t you?”

gojo whimpers. “yeah, yeah. really bad,” and the moment you suggest that, his ears perk cutely. he’s gotta be careful though—with a cunt as addicting as yours, he just might end up falling in love.

speaking of love, it’s as if heart eyes pour into his irises as he glances at you—again, metaphorically of course. gojo gulps at the tender touch of your fingers, leaning in to nip a kiss near your neck. through muffled words, he mewls. “i wanna fill you up. ‘s only fair since you’re milking me s-so much, ‘m so thirsty,” and he’s just babbling, pulling him close—he whines once he feels your finger glide through his sensitive undercut again. “hngh, gonna break me. let me make a mess in you please? i’ll even eat it out of you once ‘m done.”

you’re tempted at his pleads, giggling before dragging him into a deep kiss. “such a blabbermouth,” you tease between kisses, staring to feel the tears of sweat race down the sides of your forehead also— with a sly smile, you lick the drool that was about to run down the side of his lip. “finish in me, ‘toru. it’s okay. be my messy boy.”

his eyes dilated once he hears that,

your messy boy.

he even repeats it, “y-your messy boy, yeah, ‘m so messy for you, roomie,” and as he’s preparing for his inevitable release, he sinks into your warm embrace. “one more kiss, h-hold me.” and as if on command, you yoke his head in close, giving him a deep, passionate kiss. his pulsing heart beats through his ears. gojo—by this point, he was already whipped. the way his hips pick up, growing more sloppy and deranged—he’s feral.

the feverish under parts of his thighs burn, longing for its incoming conclusion climax—yet, as your smoldering heat gnashes against his, it finally comes.

with a primal gasp, it’s here.

the nirvana—euphoria, whatever it could have been called to describe this feeling, it was here.

gojo whimpers, going into a complete spazzing fit once he feels the slow orgasmic waves of himself starting to shoot literal humid blanks inside you.

it’s hot, parching hot— your heat against smelts his, it scratches a fervor itch in your brain. his tongue rummages the inside of your mouth again as he’s painting the insides of your gummy walls with his snowy white color.

satiny ropes of your roommate’s seed trickle into you, it’s so gooey and hot that it starts to stick against the inner parts of your thighs. each rough kiss reflects the same desire the both of you share before he shudders.

slow thrusts, he’s barely moving as fast as he was before but he’s still active. he wants to make sure you feel every inch he’s saved for you,

for weeks, months, maybe even years—

“god,” he whimpers out, pulling away from your glossed lips—a pretty cobweb of spit departs from each and he happily laps it up with his tongue. who knew your roommate was nothing more than a mere freak.

not you, not by a long shot.

it takes a moment for him to catch his breath, with a flustered look— gojo’s now clingy.

he doesn’t wanna move away from you, nor does he wanna exactly pull out. not just yet, he’s plugged you full of sticky cum that was threatening to ooze of your hole before he kisses the bridge of your nose. “that was so awesome.”

and just like that, the mood’s ruined—you pant, he’s hovering over you, his weight barely on you before you sigh.

“you know,” you change the subject, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “your moans, you sound more like a girl than me, ‘s kinda hot.”

“whaaat?” he grumbles, his sweetened pout forever returning. “that’s not nice, ‘n besides if it’s anyone who moans louder it’s you, angel.”

you kiss near the twitching corner of his lip, watching his sudden attitude shift like a light switch and he’s now a puddle. “you finished a bit early though,” and with your arms wrapping around him again, you speak in a soft voice. “wanna go again? you’re a natural, ‘toru.”

“please,” he whines with a nod, feeling how sweltering hot it felt to be still buried into the comforting tightness of your cunt. “this time, i wanna try doggy.”

“okay, pretty boy,” you tease, leaning in for another one of gojo’s sloppy, need kisses. just before he could pull out, the door springs open. the hinges scream once it pulls back and the two of you both look to see what the racket was.

as the door opens, it was geto—gojo’s best friend, and he had the most disgusted look on his face.

with a scrunched up face, he utters. “i’m never running errands for you two again, what the actual fuck.”

and as he turns his heel to leave, gojo snorts. “suguboooo! aw, don’t leave just yet. you can always joinnn.”

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linoxpudding · 3 months ago

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Spaces Between Us - Yang Jeongin

summary: a year later, after the breakup- you run into your ex again, and old feelings start to resurface

pairing: yang jeongin x reader (exes)

genre: angst, fluff, drama

fic type: written + text

P.S this is PART 3 of "prioritizing his girl bsf" au, so please read jeongin's portion in-

PART 1 and PART 2 for context!

a/n: so innie's storyline felt a bit incomplete, but @mrsminseochoi planted such a brilliant idea in my mind that gave it the closure it needed, as soon I read her comment, I just had to write it! @mrsminseochoi you're a genius! ♡

Masterlist

~°~

A few months after the breakup, you get an unexpected message request. It’s from Gina.

For a moment, you just stare at your screen, debating whether to open it. Your heart pounds in your chest—what could she possibly have to say now?

Curiosity wins. With a deep breath, you tap the notification.

Your grip on your phone tightens. Your stomach twists. You knew Jeongin didn’t mean to hurt you, but reading Gina’s confession makes your chest ache all over again.

You imagine Jeongin, the man who once held your heart so gently, now crumbling behind closed doors. The thought alone sends a sharp pang through you.

But it doesn’t fix what happened. It doesn’t erase the heartbreak. But it does give you some sense of closure. You were right all along.

You don’t reply and just block Gina. There’s nothing left to say.

A year later....

Life moves on. You moved on. You focused on yourself, your career, your happiness. You keep telling yourself you're over Jeongin. That you've healed.

But fate has other plans.

It happened on a rainy evening. You enter a quiet café, shaking the cold off your coat as you wait for your drink. And then—

"Y/N?"

The voice freezes you in place. It’s soft, disbelieving, and achingly familiar.

You turn, and your eyes land on him.

Jeongin stands a few feet away, his dark eyes wide with something you can’t quite name. He looks different—his hair is slightly longer, his face sharper, but his expression… it’s the same.

It’s the way he used to look at you. Like you were his entire world.

"I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again," he softly says approaching you.

"Yeah… It’s been a while," you reply nervously.

He steps closer, hesitant. "Can we talk?"

You don't know why you nod. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something deeper. But soon, you’re sitting across from each other, the air between you both thick with unspoken words.

"You look good. I mean… you always did. But you look happier. Are you?" He asks with a hint of curiosity.

You pause. You like to think you're happy. But seeing him again, the memories flooding back, makes you realize you never fully stopped missing him.

"I am. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard," you said.

Jeongin’s face twists in pain. "I know. And I hate myself for what I put you through. You were right about Gina."

Your breath catches. "She reached out to me."

His eyes widen. "She did?"

You nod. "Told me how she planned it all. How she wanted me out of the picture. That you never meant to hurt me."

Jeongin exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N… I never stopped loving you. Even when I tried, I couldn’t. I lost you because I was stupid, and it’s the worst mistake I’ll ever make."

Tears prick your eyes. You want to be angry. You were angry for so long. But looking at him now, hearing the raw emotion in his voice, something in your heart shifts.

"You really hurt me, Jeongin."

Jeongin sighed, "I know. And if I could take it all back, I would."

Silence lingers between you both, filled with the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

Jeongin hesitates for a moment before asking, voice barely above a whisper, "are you...are you seeing someone else?"

You blink at the unexpected question. His fingers clench slightly against the table, his knuckles turning white. He looks like he’s bracing himself for an answer he doesn’t want to hear.

You exhale, playing with the rim of your coffee cup before replying, "Just a few dates here and there. Nothing serious."

Jeongin visibly stiffens. His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a second, exhaling through his nose, "Oh."

A small, bitter smile plays on your lips. "Jeongin, you don’t have the right to be jealous."

"I know," he sighs, rubbing his face. "I just hate the thought of someone else making you smile the way I used to."

You swallow hard. Every logical part of you tells you to walk away, to protect your heart. But your heart has never listened to logic when it comes to Jeongin.

Slowly, you reach across the table, your fingers brushing his. His breath stutters.

"I don’t know if we can ever be what we were," you confess.

"Then let’s be something new. Something better," he replies quickly, his hands tightening around you.

He looks at you like he’s afraid to move, like he’s afraid to hope.

As you’re sitting across from him, the space between you suddenly feels too large. Every part of you aches to close that gap, to feel his presence closer. Without thinking, you stand up, your movements almost trembling with anticipation. He watches, frozen, as you slide into the seat next to him. The air between you shifts, the tension thickening, and without a word, you lean in, unable to hold back any longer.

Jeongin’s eyes flutter shut as your lips meet, the kiss slow and deep, filled with everything you two never got to say. Regret, longing, love—it’s all there, crashing over you both like a wave.

When you pull away, Jeongin rests his forehead against yours, breathing shakily.

"I love you. I never stopped loving you," he says, his voice cracked slightly.

Your lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile.

"Then let’s see where this takes us," you reply.

Maybe love deserves a second chance.

#skz x reader #stray kids fake texts #skz fake texts #skz au #stray kids texts #stray kids #jeongin stray kids #i.n fake texts #i.n scenarios #i.n x reader #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #i.n stray kids #i.n angst #yang jeongin x reader #i.n texts

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uzurakis · 1 year ago

Text

N★STYY OVER DA PHONEEE?!

featuring: gojo satoru. geto suguru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji. (characters are all aged up)

NSFW MDNI. what kind of e-sex do they each prefer?

n. should be doing my other reqs but.. i gotta do what i gotta do (they say). have fun <3

GOJO SATORU

you found yourself staring at your phone screen, nerves fluttering as you tapped the icon to start the video call. you had been waiting for this moment, wanting to share something special with gojo, someone who meant a lot to you. as the call connected, you held your breath, hoping he would pick up.

suddenly, his face appeared on the screen. his expression changed from casual to surprised as he took in the view of you.

“how’s my darling doi—whoa,”

holding the phone up so he could see every inch of your cunt, hands already covered in some sticky substance, your fingers slipped down and down again. how embarrassing, he wasn't even with you there, merely over the cellphone, and you couldn't tell how many times you had hit your climax.

“oh my, all for me, you lil’ slut?”

“too slow for my liking, ya know that?”

that increased your arousal in some way, as your yearning fingers sank into your walls for the nth time. taking a quick breath and repeating the speed he had previously wanted you to do, as if it were his, curving them precisely.

“i’ll keep making ya do that ‘til i come home later, alright? then show me what you got, darling.”

GETO SUGURU

suguru: 1 missed call

you chose to call your boyfriend back right away after he called, not sure if it was a serious call. he answered the phone, but didn't say anything until you noticed what was going on. the rustle of fabric and the faint sound of his breath hitching didn’t quite cover the sound of his hand sliding up and down his length. your mind raced, trying to comprehend the situation unfolding through the phone, a mix of confusion and anticipation settling in your chest.

“fuck, missed ya so bad princess,”

“can’t help it.”

now your body was heated, the feelings arise, growing stronger with each groan that came out of his mouth. your fingers moved on its own, paving their way to your clit, those fingers of you played with your pussy. the constant spiraling inside made you aroused.

“suguru..”

“keep goin’ just like that, yeah.”

one of your digits quickened to match the pace he started moving at. though separated by distance, drew you closer, your own breaths and moans growing shallow as you felt the climax getting you.

“‘bouta cum, suguru..”

“let me hear you, princess.”

“s-suguru!”

“so fuckin’ good for me.”

ITADORI YUUJI

your phone buzzed beside you once again. with a sigh, you retrieved it, torn between ignoring the distraction and feeling compelled to check the message. glancing at the screen, annoyance flooded you, it was merely another mundane notification—or not. it was a message from your boyfriend.

baby yuuji <3: 2 attachments

sliding into your messages, there were two videos, with the bedroom linen as its cover. once you played it though, hands slowly going up and down his length, displaying his cock. seeing very carefully as he wax his length with the amount of cum he produced.

“ah–shit, look at what ya make me do, pretty.”

he was calling your name with a moan when you turned up the audio a little. he seemed, irritated? suggesting to you that he had likely been playing with himself all along, maybe waiting for you to be at his side.

“god, wanna feel ya cunt so baad.”

same with the other video, he was all over you while stroking his length and groaning out how you’d make him feel good. you felt like he was testing your patience, the sensation rushed to your every body and goes down to your stomach. maybe it’s time for payback.

you: 1 attachment

you: just as you like it <3

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

you found yourself sinking into the depths of boredom as the hours dragged on. searching for a distraction, your gaze fell upon your phone resting on the table. unlocking your device, you navigated to the camera app. with a playful smirk and a dirty mind, you started experimenting with different angles and poses, ones to send to your beloved boyfriend.

you: hey megs, guess what i’ve been up to ;)

you: 3 attachments

you sent three images of your tits; two with your hand groping them nude, and one with your bra on—in an attempt provoke the man. you were aware that you were playing a game against him when you teased him in this way, since he has a tendency to drop everything and come to screw you over.

when the "delivered" became "read," your brief bliss gave way to a null sense, and to your amazement, he didn't even bother to fucking respond?

what comes next, then? you opened your camera once more and took some pictures of your cunt with two fingers inside of them. you thought to yourself, this will definitely catch his attention.

you: 1 attachment

you: need you inside me, stupid ‘gumi

emo boyfriend: typing…

gnawing down your lips when he finally saw the texts. then a reply came up, didn’t imagine him to answer that fast this time.

emo boyfriend: fuck you.

emo boyfriend: stay there, i’m coming over.

YUUTA OKKOTSU

the familiarity of the day was broken by the sudden buzz of your device, signaling a notification unlike any other from your boyfriend. curiosity piqued, you tapped on the message, only to find a voice note waiting for you.

without any expectations, you pressed play and his voice saying your name filled the room. but as the seconds passed, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. it wasn't just a usual audio message; instead, noises of worked breathing that eventually turn into moans and groans.

“can’t stop thinkin’ bout ya, god,”

“can’t help myself.”

your heart raced as you listened, the voice note seemed to stretch on for an eternity, each moment amplifying your embarrassment. when you listened to the 30 second audio clip again, you noticed how he was pumping his cock, and the last thing you heard was a loud groan of your name as he released his climax.

“fuck, fuck, fuck—“

“please come over, baby.”

@uzurakis — reblogs are very appreciated sweeties xp

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aquasoftware · 30 days ago

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YOU GOT ME LOOKING FOR ATTENTION!!

Cw: Discord mod! Satoru, Kpop! fanboy satoru, fem! reader, fluff to smùt, Satoru lives with his parents, hcs, e-sēx/phone sēx, mūtual màsturbàtīon, long distance, lots of petnames, he calls you kitten (1), + ML

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who spends way too much time on discord servers, he’s got notifs consistently blowing up on his computer which drives his parents insane from having the racket memorized.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who joins a server for every group, and he’s a discord mod in four. He shoos his parents out of the basement when they advise him to get a real job.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who’s the guy who posts fancams with lovesick captions like “I’m on my knees for Chaeyoung again. 😍”

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who has a custom emoji reaction for every mood. He owns lightsticks and photocards with them displayed on a glass shelf like prized possessions.

Bonus: He still brags about having McDonald’s BTS bags in general chat too.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who meets you through a kpop fan server he’s in, It started with a random reply to your message about the worst kpop songs. You clowned the instrumental ‘Sticker’ by nct 127 which led to him writing paragraphs on how it’s the best kpop songs to exist.

(of course he likes sticker it’s chatoic just like him.)

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who slides in your dms after the small banter, especially after seeing a picture of you in the selfies channel.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who sees the “Dms open!” Sticker In your bio and uses the stan list you posted in intros to his advantage hitting you with a “yo, u lowkey got taste” eventually ending up chatting for 4 hours about your ultimate biases, kdramas, and conspiracy theories about choreo symbolism. He calls you lovey dovey nicknames like “Pretty girl,” and “cutie,” but adds a lil winky face that seems very intentional…

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who sends you memes regularly, you wake up to 60 unread messages. All memes. All chaotic. Some are thirst traps of idols with stupid little “me when I see u” captions.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who flirts with you all the time at first it’s subtle—he calls you his “bias wrecker.” As a joke Then it’s voice notes of him humming your fave song in a deep voice that makes you question what his whimpers sound like.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who sends you packages of snacks he’d think you’d like from japan.

“This one always makes me think of you, probably tastes as sweet as you too.. wait, oh… not like that..”

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who eventually gets close enough to call you, it’s awkward at first. It doesn't last long with his typical charisma though, his voice is deeper than expected, teasing, alluring. He calls you “Baby” jokingly, but your stomach flips. You both giggle the entire time, doing karaoke, watching different shows together and don’t sleep until your time zones force you to.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who one day hears your shaky breathing paired with small moans and stops mid sentence about a new group debut in confusion. He's talking fast, all excited until you go unusually quiet. Then he hears it. Soft, yet heavy breaths. The kind you don’t make unless you’re doing something intimate. His voice pauses mid-sentence. “Wait… are you okay?”

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who eventually catches on that his online bestfriend is playing with her sweet cunt, so he shoots the obvious question “You touchin’ yourself Y/n?” He’s shocked for half a second. Then smug, talking low. “Awh, I feel so flattered..” The teasing tone doesn’t hide how hard he’s breathing now too.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who gets cocky when you don’t answer and says “You can tell me, you don’t gotta be shy.” He’s biting back a moan, palming himself through his sweats. “You can admit it. You want me to talk you through it, don’t you?” He beams behind the screen already knowing the answer to his own question.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who when you admit it he finally takes his poor throbbing cock out of his sweats masturbating with you. The sound of your moans drives him crazy. He’s got one hand on his long veiny shaft, the other gripping the phone tighter every time your voice cracks. “Nghh, you sound so fucking pretty. Wish I could see that adorable face right now.” The call turns filthy fast—panting, loads of breathy praise, and crying out each other’s names.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who talks you through your orgasm He guides you with tender groans, “That’s it, kitten… rub your clit just like that… mmph, you close? Lemme hear it, you can be loud f’me..” And when you cum, he does too, shooting thick ribbons across his expensive keyboard; gasping your name like a prayer, hips stuttering into his fist.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who has the prettiest whimpers, so loud he hopes he doesn’t wake his parents he still lives with. His head falls back in the gaming chair, mouth parted with high-pitched whines and desperate curses he muffles himself with a hoodie sleeve. “Shittt, hahh—hope, no one heard me” But he’s a little too far gone to care anyway.

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who secretly craves having phone sex again with you. He replays your moans in his head like a broken record. Nearly texting “What are we?” But proceeds to play it cool, immediately deleting it, instead sending “Missed your voice, pretty girl. <3”

Kpop fanboy! Satoru who’s wrapped around your finger. ❤︎

Dividers/boarder creds | toastray

Note | Lmk if I should turn this into a full fic, or send a request based off of this.

I appreciate reblogs, comments, and likes, THANK YOU!!

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aomiiine · 7 months ago

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KINKTOBER (1) : BRAHMS!BAJI ─── ໒꒰ྀི っ ⸝⸝ ˂ ꒱ྀིა you’ve been hired to take care of the child of a wealthy old couple who live in a mansion out in the outskirts of the city. thinking it would be easy money, you accepted the job w/o doing a background check. it comes to you later on that their child isn’t exactly a ‘child’ or ‘doll’.

warning(s) : fem!reader, dc/nsfw, mdni — unpredictable baji, reader gets into the whole ‘caretaker’ situation, implied stalking, quickened plot, dubcon moments, switch!baji, manhandling, he’s a lil psycho, touch deprived baji, breath play, ch0king, hand job, mild degradation(slut, etc.), unprotected sex, not proofread, wc is 4.0k

𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 : my first entry for my kinktober!! Excited & scared omg — kinktober m.list + tags: @ljubimaya

You’ve been alone in this awfully large mansion for 5 days now. The owner left the day after they taught you how to care for their son.

Or porcelain doll, as you saw it.

But you weren’t allowed to call it that so you called it its given name instead—Baji. For the sake of the job, you did it despite the creepiness it gave you.

Hours passed and it was nighttime at wherever the fuck you were out in the woods. You’ve checked your phone every 10 minutes, hoping to see a text from the owners that left you alone out of the blue. The result of your curiosity was always the same—silence. Still.

“The hell..,” you mumbled, frowning at your phone’s empty home screen, not a single notification from the elderly couple. With a sigh, you closed your device and tossed it aside on the dining table, turning your head over your shoulder to see ‘Baji’ comfortably settled to sit on the armchair placed specially for him.

Creepy lil’ shit, you huffed in your mind, the corner of your lips tugging downwards, close to scowling at the innocent looking porcelain doll.

You got up, finding the silence within the entire residence unsettling and grabbing onto Baji impatiently, carrying him to your shoulder like a child.

The hallway echoed with your footsteps, dim lights illuminating the second floor. You were in a hurry to bring Baji to bed, not wanting to be in his presence any longer after an exhausting day of caring for him with odd occurrences in broad daylight earlier unsettling you more than you already were.

“Alright, Baji, sweetheart. Time to put you to bed,” you mused sweetly, pulling off the blanket and slowly laying down the heavy doll onto the mattress. You tucked him under the blanket once more, nestling the soft fabric snugly under his arms.

“Good night, Baji,” was all you whispered before standing up straight again, patting the bed twice and turning your heels to leave the room. With one final lingering glance on the laid and tucked doll, you stepped out and closed the door behind you.

You leaned against the hard wood door for a moment, your shoulders slumping as if a heavy burden was finally lifted off of them. Wary eyes of yours scanned the hallways around you, the silence and eeriness making your skin crawl.

However, the few moments after you pushed yourself off the door to walked down the hallway, audible steps made themselves present, the rough yet subtle sound making you halt and snap your head to the side. To your ears, the noise was coming from the walls right beside you, the opposite side of Baji’s bedroom.

Hairs at your nape raise.

You could call this occurrence normal now after it kept on going consistently during your stay here with the elder couple and alone. Despite the concerns you’ve expressed to them, they brushed it off carelessly as mice crawling in house. However, that didn’t assure you at all.

A moment passes, and you turn ahead of you again once the noise stopped, ignoring the swarm of possibilities that filled your mind. Yet, as you kept on walking, the audible stomping came alive again, longer this time. As if it was following you.

Paranoia taking over your nerves, you made a 180 and marched back to Baji’s bedroom, swinging the door open to see the lights closed and the porcelain doll snug in bed—just like you left him.

Taking slow steps closer to the bed, your hand reached out tentatively to touch the shoulder of the unmoving doll, its eyes staring up wide to the ceiling above. You took in a shaky breath, lips parted now closed to swallow your heart back down to your chest.

Slam.

Your entire body jumps and twists to look over behind you—seeing nothing but darkness now the door was mysteriously slammed shut.

“Oh, fuck, what the fuck,” you mumbled in panic, eyes frantically darting between ‘Baji’ and the door. Frozen legs of yours finally moved, sprinting over to the door to turn the knob and yank the heavy wood open.

“Why won’t this damn door fucking budge!” You exclaimed in a hissed whisper, breath short as if something stole your breath away. It wasn’t even fucking locked, the knob clearly showed it was open—then who the fuck was holding it from opening?

Thud.

Your entire being stilled. You weren’t alone.

You backed away from the door with a few steps, fearful gaze flickering downwards to see the other side illuminated with light—but with a shadow at the centre. Someone was behind the door.

You brought a trembling hand up to your mouth, covering your quivering lips.

A paper note slips past the gap under the door. You stared at it for a second, contemplating whether or not to take it.

Ultimately, you bent down to quickly pick up the paper, bringing it up closer to your face read it better in the dark room you were in.

‘You forgot something’

What the fuck? you cursed in your mind. You stood there, eyes fixating on the message written on the paper, mind scattering to figure out what you could have possibly forgotten that might be related to the situation you were in.

Then it hit you.

Kiss.

A stupid midnight kiss.

You were told to kiss Baji good night when it was bedtime when the owners were still here. You grumbled internally, who could have possibly remembered that ridiculous fucking long list of rules to take care of a damn doll?

“Fine—I’ll do it,” you conceded, albeit reluctantly.

You turned to face the bed ‘Baji’ was laid on and walked closer, noting the glimmer of moonlight reflecting on the porcelain cheek of the delicate thing. With a few deep breaths, you leaned down, hand lifting to tuck strands of your hair behind your ear as your lips approached the cheek of the unmoving thing.

Done, you thought, hoping whatever you did just soothed the person behind outside. However, your hopes were crushed to ashes the second you heard the door creak open slowly behind when you were about to straighten up, pulling away from the doll.

Heavy steps approached you from behind, the mere presence of the person making your entire nervous system shut down, unable to move a single limb out of fear.

Thump, thump, thump, thump. Then nothing.

The silence was sinister, so fucking sinister, especially now he was behind you—for fucks sake, you could feel him breath down your neck, hear his ragged intakes of air.

Your entire body trembled, hands clenching one another and eyes darting from left to right, not having the guts to turn around and face the man who was probably responsible for all the fucking noises you heard in the mansion. But then, if he was responsible for the noises in the walls, could have he been watching you too? Hell, your cheeks flared up at the mere thought of it—of a man stalking you from the walls, watching your every move, witnessing you undress and maybe even bathe.

“What do you want from me?” you muttered, lips quivering more than you could control and words coming out shakier than intended. Despite the fear, the curiosity, you stood still. Unmoving.

But instead of hearing a response from him, you heard him move again.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he stepped beside you, a glimpse of him turning to a whole image of a man unkempt, yet well built. His black hair was luscious and long, generous strands falling over his shoulders. You kept your eyes trailed on him, watching him go ahead of you to sit on the edge of the bed, inches away from the laying doll.

“Kiss,” he spoke, his words coming almost as a grumble with how gravelly his voice was that muffled softly in the mask he was wearing. It looked weird too. White as porcelain.

“I already kissed Baji goodnight,” you stuttered, looking at him with fear glazed eyes, trying to fix this ‘misunderstanding’.

“This thing,” he quickly retorted, emphasising his words by grabbing onto the neck of the doll, lifting it up with a tight grip and throwing it off the bed, the strength of his swing making it hit and shatter against the wall. “isn’t Baji,” he finished with a growl.

“I am,” he added, head turning to look up at you, his breath heavy against the mask he wore.

You held in your breath at the reveal, your eyes fluttering closed as you glanced away, lips quivering.

It made sense. Considering all the information you got during your stay here from the remaining staff, from the photos and books you read through once the owners left. They all had one thing in common to tell you—Baji was real. And his birth date was way too far off from now for him to be a child.

“You know what to do. Right?” Baji’s voice broke you out of your trance, making your eyes flicker open once more to look at him.

He was expecting something. And you knew what it was.

“Alright,” you whispered beneath your breath, head nodding nervously once you understood what he meant, what he wanted.

You took hesitant steps closer to him, standing close between his spread legs now. You steadied your breath for a moment before leaning in closer to him, eyes blinking anxiously as you made your way to plant a kiss to his cheek.

Yet before your lips made contact to the mask, his larger hand made contact with your arm, his grip firm yet not painful. Baji pulled you onto his lap in one swift motion, forcing you to shift to stabilise yourself on his thighs, your hands flying to his shoulders on instinct.

Realising the placement of your hands and his own, you lifted your head to look up at him with wide eyes, lips gaping open to utter an apology.

“Go on,” he ordered before your voice could leave your throat.

You nodded, disregarding the awfully close proximity between you two. You knew better than to question or deny it, wanting to stay alive and unscathed.

Baji’s breath behind the mask was audible and stable even as you leaned in close, his body as still as a statue when you finally kissed the cheek of his mask. But you could faintly hear the soft grunt he made when you pulled away, the sound akin to a whine.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but be curious of the man, his story, and more importantly, his intentions on having you so unnecessarily close. The fear you felt earlier melted to a burning desire to explore, to curiosity—and perhaps arousal.

Baji was much larger than yourself, it was something you noted the moment he pulled you on him. The silence between you kept you on your toes but it didn’t bother you much—not when you were focusing on the feeling of his wide shoulders you were currently holding onto.

“You’re a handsy one, aren’t ya,” Baji commented suddenly, catching your attention. You glanced up into his eyes and shied away for a moment when you realised he was observing you so closely, embarrassed that you got carried away in such a crucial moment where your life could be at risk.

“All the other caretakers clamp up like fucking cowards the moment they see me. And here you are, feeling me up like a shameless, helpless, little girl like I can’t just crush your skull in a blink of an eye,” he continued, recalling all the other encounters he had with the past caretakers his parents hired. They always had the same look on their faces—nothing but fear, disgust and tears. It was probably the reason he killed them all. To see another expression on their faces.

But you were different. He noticed the little widen of your eyes when you saw him staring at you. And the subtle yet comprehensible flustered look you made right after he caught you was something that he couldn’t help but find ‘cute’.

“It’s almost pathetic, your behaviour,” he deemed, his intense gaze hardening at you out of nowhere. His mind tried to rationalise your behaviour. You were probably acting like this to get on his good side, so he would spare you. He almost certain that was the reason for your behaviour—selfish and self-centred, like the rest of them.

Your brows furrowed at his accusations, your head tilting at him in curiosity. What did he mean? What did you do? What behaviour?

“Behaviour?” you muttered questioningly, your fingers on his now tense shoulders wincing as you were about to pull away your right hand. Before your palm could lift off him though, he stopped you with a tight grip on your forearm.

“You wanna live don’t you?,” he growled lowly, grasp on you loosening slightly.

You hissed a breath, nodding firmly, making it clear you wanted to keep your soul intact.

“Show me how desperate you are. Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you go.”

“Desperate?” You queried, confused at what he meant by showing him your ‘desperation’.

“You’ll do whatever I say, whenever I say it. No is not an option.” He answered, hand around your arm tightening to the point of pain that made you yelp and squirm on his lap. He inched in closer to you, head dipping to your face.

“Besides—you’re my caretaker, aren’t you?” He whispered lowly for your ears alone, hand twisting your delicate limb hard to enough ensure bruises coloured your skin.

“I—I am but—” you protested, your whimpers awfully quiet to truly be ‘protesting’. Your body shifted and writhed on his firm thighs, legs moving to straddle him better despite yourself. You kept on doing so until your hips ventured too close to his crotch, feeling the bulge that had formed in his pants. You didn’t realise your squirming from earlier had affected him so, nor did you think that your touches on his body contributed to his evident hard-on.

“And as my caretaker, you’re obliged to tend to my needs. So take care of the problem you caused,” Baji demanded, his gravelly voice slightly breathless now from the grinding you were unintentionally doing against him. He squeezed your stinging forearm one last time before letting go of you, leaning away a bit with his eyes fixated on you still, waiting for you to do your ‘job’.

You looked at his masked face for a second before flickering your gaze down to the sight of your hips meeting his, rocking yourself subtly to nudge to tent in his pants teasingly, earning yourself a heavy breath from Baji.

Thinking about your choices, obey or die, it was obvious which you were gonna pick. Besides, his orders weren’t gonna too bad, right?

Mustering up enough courage inside you, your hands moved to hold onto his shoulders again, the leverage helping you move on him more.

It was humiliating, really. To have him do nothing but watch you grind and hump on his clothed cock so attentively. It didn’t take long for you to feel the need clump up into a knot in your lower belly, the ache in your pussy pleading for more friction.

So you obeyed both yourself and him, hand slipping down to the fly of his pants, unzipping and tugging it downwards to release his hard cock from its confinement. His girthy length sprung out, fitting into your hand quickly after. Your fingers wrapped around the shaft, tracing the veins slowly until you reached his leaking tip, gathering the beads of precum and smearing it all over his flamed flesh.

The reaction you got out of him from the mere contact sent shivers down your spine, shivers of unexpected pleasure. This man who scared the life out of you, threatened to kill you and had you earn his mercy, was whining for you. It was faint, but you could definitely hear it from behind the mask. His body betrayed him too. Hips jerking up to meet your hand, as if silently pleading for you touch him more. But he didn’t say anything, letting you handle the situation as you saw fit.

”Fuckk,” you heard him whine breathlessly. Your focus remained on his cock that you held in your hand but you knew damn well how he was practically throwing his head back grudgingly now that you’ve started to stroke him, coaxing his blood to rush southwards.

Your lips parted at the sight of the mess he made on your palm, now slick with precum that kept on flowing. Your own breath hitched, unable to resist the urge to play around a bit more.

Your hand circled around his member and nestled to the base before you massaged his cock with a flick of your wrist, starting off slow as you made your way along the shaft till the angry tip. It was getting more obvious how he was pulsing against your fingers, the sensation making your cunt clench around air at the mere thought of him being inside you.

As seconds turned to minutes, his small hitches turned to pants. His chest was heaving, hips bucking into your smaller hand that attempted to fit his entire girth around your fingers. When your pace finally quickened, he could feel his the churning in his balls, drawing up and tightening along with the grip his hands hand on the sheets on the bed.

And you saw it all, noticed it all, but you made no effort to stop, eager to see and hear more of him until he reaches his climax. How could you stop when he was groaning and moaning incoherent profanities behind the mask, head leaned back just enough to show you the sweat that trickled past his mask and down his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously?

The wet sound your hand produced from jerking him filled the dimly lit bedroom along with the lewd noises that came from Baji. The often twitches his hips made were enough to tell you he was inches away from release, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“Oh, shit— feel’s so fuckin’ good,” the bigger man cried out, hips thrusting into your hand one last time before stilling and spilling his load all over your hand, some ropy spurts landing on your clothes. Your chest heaved nearly as heavy as his, as if you were the one cumming all over the place right now.

His cock pulsed one last time before calming, your halted hand squeezing his sensitive length once more to watch the final drops of cum leave his slit. Then, you withdrew your hand from him, letting his semi-hard cock rest on his pelvis as he caught his breath.

“Not enough.. not even close to enough. Need more, need your fucking pussy,” he panted, breath ragged behind the white mask he wore to conceal his face that was no doubt, twisted in pleasure.

Baji’s hand shot out to grab ahold on your hip, pulling close with a rough tug. His other hand moved swiftly to hook his fingers under the waistband of your leggings, pulling it down in an impatient motion to expose your bare thighs and clothed pussy, the wet patch on your panties catching his eye before anything.

“Knew you’d get wet from this, stupid’ slut. Seeing me cum got you off, huh? Now it’s your turn to get me off by creaming all over my cock,” he grunted, voice raspy and hoarse from the reluctant moans he voiced out earlier. His hand remained planted tightly on your hip, the other shifting quickly to simply slip your panties to the side, making no effort to take it off.

You whimpered at the sudden change of his demeanour, not missing the crazed look in his bronze eyes. Except they weren’t crazed for blood—they were crazed for your pussy.

Baji’s free hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it once then twice until it was hard and ready again. He aligned his tip against your slit that hovered above him, the subtle graze on your pulsating clit and the warm precum mixing with your own juices making you desperate than ever.

His hand on your hip pulled you down onto his cock in one swift motion, his girth penetrating your entrance affecting the both of you. Baji drew out a long groan, your walls clenching around him almost immediately. And you moaned out a cry, eyes threatening to roll back from how full you felt from his cock alone, your nectar overflowing enough to not make penetration hurt too much.

Baji didn’t spare any time to let you adjust to the intrusion, forcing you to move up and down his cock with the leverage he had on your hip. You followed his rhythm grudgingly, not wanting his grip to tighten to the point of pain if you resisted. Even so, Baji was unsatisfied, wanting to have you fuck him even faster. So he moved his free hand up to your chest, slipping his calloused fingers around your delicate neck.

“Fuck, you milking me so good, baby.. Slutty pussy of yours made for me,” he grunted, his snapping up to meet yours, using more strength to hold your neck. Your hands threw around without true direction, one clawing onto his arm that he used to wrap around your neck, the other digging your nails mindlessly onto his shoulder.

Tears began to swell in your eyes as your moans began to choke up in your throat, Baji’s thick fingers pressing the sides of your neck strategically to restrict your airways, the lack of oxygen making you feel lightheaded and so much more sensitive to the merciless thrusts his cock made into you. You could barely mutter his name, or utter any coherent words for the few long seconds he deprived you from oxygen, though your wet pussy spoke for you in return.

“Dirty bitch—squeeze ‘round me just like that, yeah? Gonna fill you up soon, so fucking soon,” he promised, using and handling your body like a damn fleshlight that was good for nothing but his own pleasure, and fuck did you please him good. His fingers around your neck left welts that would probably stay for few days along with the marks he made on your hip, his cock bullying your cervix with each deep unforgiving thrusts he made, the sound of wet skin slapping against one another filling the room once more.

It went on repeatedly on and on, until he reached a breaking point where the knot in his loin held on its final thread, one final motion to sheath his pulsing cock into your depths contributing to its result to snap. His voice grew louder in volume once he came again, semen spewing in heavy, thick ropes to paint your once velvety walls white. His own orgasm triggered yours, the heat in your lower tummy overwhelming you the moment he filled you up as promised, his cum soon mixing with your own cum that coated his cock, the fluid dripping to his base and trickling down his tightened balls.

“Oh, lord—fuck me,” you murmured between your pants, Baji’s hand around your neck finally loosening and soon withdrawing. Your body twitched from the immense pleasure, twitching and slumping against him soon enough. Baji caught you in his arms, his own breaths ragged and uneven from exertion, his body as sensitive and as weak as yours at the moment. At some point, Baji eventually laid back on the bed, big arms engulfing you in a firm embrace as he tried to calm himself down with you.

“Can I leave safely now?” You muttered against his chest after a long period of silence passed, your breaths back to normal.

“Who said anything about leaving?” Baji rasped through the mask, his exhaustion undetected whatsoever in his voice. Your body tensed in his arms, eyes widening in fear as you felt a familiar gaze heady with malicious intent glaring holes above your head.

#baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #tokyorev x reader #baji x reader smut #baji smut #tokyorev smut #tokyorev x reader smut #baji keisuke smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut

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yazmarina · 9 months ago

Text

close to you

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"break my heart and start a fire, you got me overnight, just let me be" (close to you by gracie abrams)

oscar piastri (f1) x afab!reader

warnings/notes: smut, protected sex, cunnilingus, first date, basically you match with oscar on a dating app lol

a/n: what a weekend guys. have this as the cherry on top <3

You never really expected anything much to come out of it.

You swiped right on the app, highly suspicious if this was really even him, but for the plot (as the kids say), you wanted to try anyway.

The screen graphics confirmed that it was a match and you felt your blood run cold.

Oscar Piastri, Formula 1 driver, had matched with you on a dating app.

You locked your phone and paced about the room for a solid five minutes, refusing to pick your device back up. You yelped as you saw the screen light up. You shoved it under your pillow, rushing out of the room and pacing even more, but this time, around your living room.

It took another ten minutes for you to gingerly return to your room, your trembling hand flipping your phone upright to expose your notifications.

Oscar: Hey :)

You nearly dashed out onto your balcony and leaped off the edge right then. With bated breath, you tapped on the notification, thoughts cycling seemingly a million miles a second.

You: Hi! Fancy seeing you here haha

You groaned immediately after sending the message, cringing at the utter lack of eloquence.

A sob nearly escapes your lips when you see his reply.

Oscar: Don't tell on me, then ;) I take it you're a fan?

"You have no idea, Oscar Piastri," you whispered to yourself as you tried to maintain a semblance of composure in your following messages.

You really should have practiced restraint, a cautious approach to this whole situation. What if it was some sort of poser? What if whichever dickhead pretending to be Oscar posts your responses online to dunk on you? Your face was exposed, goddammit.

But after two hours of messaging and a selfie sent from his side to prove that, yes, he really was Formula 1 driver Oscar Piastri, the two of you agreed to meet the next day.

You're still not fully convinced at that point but you decided to go with it. You sent a vague yet urgent message to your friend who lives nearby, in case you need an escape plan.

You covered all your bases, said all your prayers, and plucked every stray eyebrow into perfection.

Your heart nearly gives out now as you look up to see Oscar approaching your table, the sun gleaming down, casting a glow on his wavy brown hair. You're seated just outside the restaurant doors, the breeze gently displacing some of your own hair.

A nervous giggle escapes you as you tuck your hair back in place. Oscar beams and pulls the chair out in front of you.

"Hi. Sorry to keep you waiting."

You shake your head almost instantly. "No, it's okay. I wasn't here for long."

Oscar smiles even wider and you clamp your hands together under the table to stop them from shaking.

"It's nice to meet you," Oscar says, reaching his hand out. You chuckle at the formality but grasp his hand in yours nonetheless.

"Same here. Though, I'm a little nervous," you reply.

"Though, I hope you aren't super weirded out about going on a date with a fan," you rush out. "I just really enjoy the sport and I think you're a great driver."

You see a hint of pink dusting Oscar's cheeks. Your own face heats up at the realization.

"It's fine," Oscar consoles. "Thanks, by the way. I mean, you're gorgeous, so you're not the only one in awe here."

Oscar's eyes widen as he realizes the words that had come tumbling out of his mouth. Your own jaw slackens and another nervous laugh rises from your chest.

"Thank you," you manage to splutter out. "I-I don't know what else to say to that without sounding like some lovesick fan."

Oscar bursts out laughing, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. You realize that every inch of skin above his shirt collar is tinged with red.

"I think that's our signal to order," Oscar offers, flipping through the menu in front of him.

You nod silently, doing the same.

The text you send to your friend after your lunch with Oscar is just as vague, if not a little more.

You tell them that your date went well and that you'll be moving to another place. You don't exactly clarify what this other place is, but with the way your friend tells you to be safe and call immediately if anything goes wrong, you know that they're aware of where this is going.

You lean back, comfortable in the passenger seat of Oscar's car. You set your phone down, sneaking a peek at the man beside you, and for a split second your eyes meet.

"You good?" Oscar asks, his eyes trained back on the road. There's an easy smile playing on his lips and you can still see pink on his cheeks.

"Yeah," you say, digging through your purse and retrieving some breath mints. You pop two in your mouth and you offer Oscar the container.

You smile knowingly as Oscar glances at your outstretched hand, his smile widening into a bashful grin.

"Want some?" you offer, toying with the candy in your mouth. Just then, you come upon a stoplight and Oscar turns to you fully.

He holds up his palm and you shake out two more mints onto his awaiting hand. Oscar places them in his mouth, watching as you put the candies away.

"Any particular reason you'd be needing breath mints?" Oscar asks almost playfully.

You snicker. "Not really. Just wanted to get the taste of food out of my mouth."

Oscar hums, eyes trailing down your face. You can see him continue to suck on the mints but he soon loses his patience and bites down, grinding his teeth.

Yours are all dissolved, the fresh sting of spearmint settling on your tongue.

"I don't really do this," Oscar suddenly declares.

You raise both of your eyebrows. "Do what?"

"Take girls home on the first date."

A grin settles on your face as you hear the words. You lean in closer, over the center console, noting the way Oscar inhales as you do so.

"I'm flattered," you admit. Oscar laughs, mirroring your posture, the proximity between you two diminishing.

Oscar kisses you, tenderly at first, his hand automatically coming up to hold you in place. It's easy to forget that it's the middle of the day in sunny Monaco, the tint on his car windows not the ideal shade to necessarily hide what you're doing.

You pull, back glancing at the stoplight just as it turns green.

It takes a honk from the car behind you to get Oscar out of his daze.

Oscar is a gracious host, as you quickly learn. Gracious in a way that his hands immediately cradle you close the second his front door latches shut. His lips are just as welcoming as they trail down your neck, careful and almost nervous. It's also so hospitable how he so eagerly ushers you into his room, settling you down on the sheets as he does all the work for you.

Your clothes are stripped one by one and the familiar anxiety rises back up in your throat. Oscar senses the shift in your mood and pauses just as he's undoing his own pants.

"We don't have to," Oscar offers, taking ahold of one side of your face.

You kick yourself in your mind. This is an opportunity you would never pass up and it's right in the palm of your hand.

You shake your head. "I want to. I really want to. With you."

Oscar grins and practically tackles you down on the bed. It takes some effort but the rest of his clothes finally come off and the two of you lay bare on his bed.

You can feel the desperation in his movements and you reciprocate with as much eagerness. You think for a moment what it could have been in your lunch that caused the both of you to just want to jump in bed together, but you ultimately doubt that the tapas had anything to do with it.

It feels surreal, having Oscar's mouth on your core, and even more unbelievable the way his fingers work as if they already know you, how to please you. You're trembling by the time Oscar comes back up, lips smeared with your arousal.

You blink the tears out of your eyes as you watch Oscar reach over to his nightstand, expertly dispensing a condom, rolling it down on his rock-hard shaft.

You scramble to get him close, not even caring about how quick he plunges inside you, the stretch eliciting a hiss from between your teeth. You relax and Oscar takes this as a sign to start moving.

"Jesus, fuck—" Oscar curses. "You're fucking tight."

You let out a breath, holding Oscar's body close as he fucks you, steady and unrelenting.

You don't particularly care if everything he's said up to this point is a lie. You could be his fifth this week, you could be herded out his apartment the moment he finishes. You really don't mind, not when he feels this good inside you.

"Oscar," you gasp as he starts to pick up his pace. Even that doesn't seem real. The way his name rolls off your tongue registers like a faraway dream to you.

Oscar pulls back to look at you, his hair falling over his eyes. You've gushed about this exact look a few times online. The thought embarrasses you a bit and you can't help the blush that creeps up your neck.

"What?" Oscar asks, the corners of his mouth turning up as he watches you.

You shake your head. "Nothing. Don't look at me like that."

Oscar smirks, pressing his mouth to yours in a heady kiss. Your whines and moans are muffled as Oscar takes you closer and closer to your release. You claw at his back, digging your nails into his supple skin. Your hips start to move along with his, your own orgasm now within reach.

The two of you cum almost simultaneously and Oscar stills inside of you, his mouth hanging open as the euphoria completely washes over him. You're panting, eyes unfocused, even as Oscar pulls out to discard the condom.

Oscar plops back down beside you and you can't help the giggles that erupt as the two of you catch each other's eye.

"That was great," Oscar muses, staring at the ceiling, his hand patting around the bed until it finally finds yours. He slots his fingers between the spaces of your own.

You risk a peek at him and you take it all in. A strange feeling blooms in your chest.

Oscar turns to you and you quickly look away.

"It's kind of cute how you think I don't notice you looking," Oscar says, scooting closer.

You meet his eyes again and the strange feeling only flourishes. Pessimistically, you think of that one quote about never meeting your heroes. You start to think that it might be true.

The illusion is shattered. You've come too close. Icarus reincarnated, the sun staring you right back in the face.

You anticipate the sugarcoated rejection.

"Wanna stay over?"

You blink.

"Stay over?" You repeat rather plainly. Oscar nods.

"Yeah. I'll get us dinner." Oscar tucks your hair behind your ear. "Unless you'd rather I drive you home."

A giddy sort of sensation shoots through your body. You tentatively reach out, laying a hand on Oscar's face.

Maybe you could get just a little closer to the sun.

You peck his lips briefly, smiling as you pull away.

"No. I guess you can have me overnight."

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #op81 #oscar piastri x reader

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bratzkoo · 13 days ago

Text

our three year plan | pt. 1 wonwoo

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 4k~ Warnings/note: merging arrangements rewrite. will keep the original merging arrangements chapters in my blog but it’s discontinued ☺️. Also! Updates for this fic is not going to be as fast because I haven’t been writing in advance. 😔 So see you between a week to a year. Lol.

summary: you think your life is ruined when your parents announced that you’re marrying the heir of a tech chaebol; jeon wonwoo. so you offered him a plan, pretend to be in love until you can fake a catastrophe to break the engagement.

jeon wonwoo thinks his life just got better when his parents announced that he’s marrying the heiress of the medical group. his long time crush and basically the woman of his dreams. so when you offered him your plan, he’s going to use it to make you fall in love with him

masterlist | next part

The conference room felt too small, too airless for the bombshell that had just been dropped. Y/N stared at her parents, certain she had misheard them.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Her voice sounded distant, even to her own ears.

Her father, straightened his already impeccable posture. As CEO of Seoul's largest private medical group, he never made requests; he issued commands. "Your engagement to Jeon Wonwoo will be announced next month. The wedding is scheduled for spring."

"Engagement? Wedding?" Y/N's coffee cup clattered against its saucer. "To Jeon Wonwoo? The tech heir? I've barely exchanged ten words with him!"

Her mother's perfectly manicured hand reached across the polished conference table. "Darling, the Jeons are an excellent family. Their conglomerate is expanding into medical technology. This merger—"

"Merger?" Y/N stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I'm not a business asset to be traded!"

"Lower your voice," her father hissed, glancing toward the door. "This is still a hospital."

Y/N inhaled deeply, the familiar antiseptic smell grounding her. Yes, Seoul Medical Center—her workplace, her sanctuary—was now the setting for this life-altering ambush.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

Her father's expression hardened. "While you waste your medical degree playing nurse, the rest of us are securing the future of this institution."

The familiar barb stung, but Y/N had grown used to it over her years being a nurse. What she couldn't get used to was the idea of an arranged marriage.

"This discussion is over," her father announced, gathering his papers. "The Jeons are expecting us for dinner tomorrow. Wear something appropriate."

As her parents exited, leaving her alone in the conference room, Y/N sank back into her chair. Her phone buzzed with a notification for her afternoon rounds, a reminder of the life she'd built—the life that was now being dismantled without her consent.

"They can't be serious!" Alexys slammed her lunch tray down, causing several heads to turn in the hospital cafeteria. "Are we living in the Joseon dynasty?"

"Lower your voice," Dr. Ela Song whispered, sliding into the seat beside Y/N. "The walls have ears, especially when the CEO's daughter is involved."

Y/N pushed her salad around aimlessly. "They're dead serious. Apparently, the contracts are already being drafted."

"Contracts?" Alexys scoffed, her lab coat still bearing traces of what looked suspiciously like the methylene blue from the pathology lab. "For a marriage? Who does that anymore?"

"Rich people," Ela replied matter-of-factly, carefully separating her kimchi from the rest of her lunch. "Trust me, I know. My parents still haven't forgiven me for marrying Mingyu instead of the Chinese pharmaceutical heir they picked out."

Y/N looked up at her friend. Despite coming from immense wealth herself, Ela had chosen love over family expectations, a path that had cost her dearly. "How did you do it? Stand up to them, I mean."

Ela's expression softened. "I knew what I wanted. Do you?"

The question hung between them. What did she want? Y/N had spent years defining herself by her work—the midnight emergencies, the precious moments with patients, the medical missions to remote villages where her skills made a tangible difference. The thought of trading that for corporate functions and producing heirs made her stomach churn.

"I want my life," she finally said. "My career. My freedom to go on medical missions. Not... whatever this is."

Alexys paused mid-bite. "Then you need to find a way out of it."

"How? My father has made it clear this is non-negotiable."

Alexys grinned mischievously. "What if you make yourself so undesirable that this Wonwoo guy backs out? Men hate clingy women, right? Or maybe develop some disgusting habits?"

Despite everything, Y/N laughed. "You're suggesting I start picking my nose at business dinners?"

"I'm serious!" Alexys insisted. "Or what if—"

"What if you just talked to him?" Ela interrupted pragmatically. "This Wonwoo person might be just as trapped as you are."

The thought hadn't occurred to Y/N. In her mind, Jeon Wonwoo had been a faceless corporate puppet, willingly participating in this archaic arrangement. But what if he was another victim in their parents' chess game?

"Nurse Y/N to Emergency, Nurse Y/N to Emergency."

The overhead page pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She gathered her barely-touched lunch.

"Duty calls," she sighed, standing up. "I'll figure something out. I have to."

As she hurried toward the emergency department, a plan began forming in her mind. If Wonwoo was as reluctant as she was, perhaps they could form an alliance. A temporary arrangement with a predetermined expiration date. They could pretend just long enough to satisfy their families, then orchestrate some kind of falling out.

It was desperate, perhaps even foolish. But as Y/N pushed through the swinging doors of the ER and the familiar controlled chaos enveloped her, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: she would not give up the life she had fought so hard to build.

Seungcheol was already gloved up when Y/N entered the trauma bay, his calm presence a welcome sight amid the flurry of activity.

"MVA, three minutes out," he called to her, his eyes crinkling with the smile hidden beneath his surgical mask. As the ER's most experienced trauma nurse, Y/N was always his first choice for critical cases.

She nodded, slipping into the familiar routine with practiced ease. Gloves, gown, mask—the ritual momentarily pushed aside her personal crisis.

"Heard you got called to the executive floor earlier," Seungcheol remarked as they prepared the crash cart together. "Everything okay?"

Y/N hesitated. Despite Seungcheol being her closest friend at the hospital, something held her back from sharing her current predicament. The situation felt too raw, too complicated to explain—especially to someone whose opinion mattered so much to her.

"Just quarterly performance reviews," she lied smoothly, checking the laryngoscope light. "Nothing exciting."

He studied her for a moment, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but the wail of approaching sirens saved her from further questions.

For the next three hours, Y/N lost herself in the work she loved—stabilizing patients, anticipating needs before they were voiced, bringing order to chaos. Here, in the ER, she wasn't the reluctant heiress of the medical group; she was simply Nurse Y/N, respected for her skills and dedication.

By the time her shift ended, Y/N had almost convinced herself that she could find a way out of her predicament. Almost.

"You look like you could use this," Seungcheol said, appearing beside her locker with a steaming cup of coffee—made exactly how she liked it, with a splash of almond milk and no sugar.

"You're a lifesaver," she murmured gratefully, accepting the cup.

"Rough shift," he commented, leaning against the lockers. "You handled that crush injury like a pro, though."

Y/N welcomed the shift to professional topics. "The ortho team said we saved his arm. Sometimes I forget why we do this, and then days like today happen."

Seungcheol smiled, the kind of smile that usually made her day brighter. Today, however, she couldn't fully return it, her mind still preoccupied with tomorrow's meeting with Wonwoo.

"You seem distracted," he observed. "Sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

Y/N took a measured sip of her coffee, buying time to compose her thoughts. "Nothing worth mentioning. Just tired." She forced a lighter tone. "Tell me about that new protocol Dr. Kim was discussing yesterday. The one for pediatric traumas?"

She could see Seungcheol wasn't entirely convinced by her deflection, but he respected her boundaries enough not to push. As he launched into an explanation of the new protocols, Y/N nodded along, grateful for his friendship yet oddly relieved to keep her impending engagement private—at least for now.

Some burdens, she decided, were better carried alone until she had a clearer path forward. Perhaps after meeting Wonwoo tomorrow, she'd have more answers than questions.

"Whatever's going on," Seungcheol said suddenly, interrupting his own explanation, "just remember I'm here if you need anything. No questions asked."

The simple offer of support without demands for explanation touched Y/N deeply. "I know," she said, her throat unexpectedly tight. "Thank you."

As they parted ways in the hospital parking lot, Y/N felt a strange mix of guilt and resolve. Seungcheol deserved her honesty, but until she understood her own situation better, silence seemed the wiser choice. Tomorrow, she would meet Jeon Wonwoo, and perhaps then the path ahead would become clearer.

The Jeon estate was exactly as ostentatious as Y/N had expected—a modern glass and steel structure perched on one of Seoul's most exclusive hillsides, overlooking the city like a watchful sentinel. As the security gates parted for her parents' Mercedes, Y/N smoothed down her conservative navy dress, chosen specifically to project seriousness rather than bridal potential.

"Remember to smile," her mother murmured as they approached the entrance. "First impressions are everything."

Y/N bit back a retort. If her parents wanted a corporate puppet, they should have groomed Haerin for the role. Her younger sister would have thrived in this world of strategic alliances and business dinners.

The thought of Haerin triggered a pang of longing. If only her sister were here instead of "finding herself" in Italy. Their last conversation replayed in her mind:

"You should be the heir," Y/N had insisted during their video call. "You actually want this life."

Haerin had just laughed, the Mediterranean sun glinting in her hair. "I just want to be in Italy and be rich."

"You just want to be in Italy and be rich." Y/N mocked in sing-song tone.

"Yes, thank you, next!" Haerin had quipped, ending the discussion with her typical breezy dismissal.

Now, as a stern housekeeper ushered them into an expansive foyer, Y/N wished for just a fraction of her sister's carefree attitude.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon awaited them in a sitting room that could have been featured in an architectural magazine—all clean lines, expensive minimalism, and strategic splashes of color. Y/N instantly recognized Jeon Siwoo from business magazines, his silver hair and commanding presence befitting the CEO of one of Korea's largest tech conglomerates.

Introductions were made, pleasantries exchanged, but Y/N barely registered the conversation. Her attention was fixed on the conspicuous absence of her supposed fiancé.

"Wonwoo sends his apologies," Mrs. Jeon explained, noticing Y/N's wandering gaze. "He was called away to handle an emergency at our Busan facility. He's flying back tonight and is looking forward to meeting you properly tomorrow."

Y/N couldn't decide if she was relieved or frustrated by the delay. On one hand, it postponed the inevitable awkwardness; on the other, it prolonged her anxiety.

"Perhaps it's for the best," her father said smoothly. "The young people can meet privately tomorrow. Sometimes these arrangements are better discussed without parental interference."

Mr. Jeon nodded in agreement. "Wonwoo will pick Y/N up at noon. I suggest lunch at the Sky Garden—private, yet public enough for propriety."

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral as her future was arranged like a business meeting. Tomorrow, she would meet Jeon Wonwoo, and everything would change. Her mind raced with questions: Would he be as reluctant as she was? Would he consider her plan? Or would he be exactly like their parents, seeing her as nothing more than a beneficial merger?

As the evening progressed through an elaborate dinner where business dominated the conversation, Y/N remained largely silent, mentally rehearsing what she would say to Wonwoo tomorrow. By the time they left, she had a clear strategy: she would be direct, practical, and unemotional. This was a negotiation, nothing more.

The following morning dawned bright and crisp, autumn painting Seoul in shades of gold and crimson. Y/N had barely slept, her mind cycling through various scenarios of how her meeting with Wonwoo might unfold.

At precisely noon, her phone pinged with a message from an unknown number:

I'm outside your building. Black Tesla. - Wonwoo

Direct and to the point. Perhaps this was a good sign. Y/N grabbed her purse and headed downstairs, her heart hammering against her ribs despite her determination to remain calm and collected.

The sleek black car was idling at the curb, its electric engine silent. As she approached, the driver's door opened, and Jeon Wonwoo stepped out.

Y/N faltered momentarily. The man before her was not what she'd expected. Business publications typically showed him in formal attire at corporate events, looking serious and unapproachable. Today, dressed in dark jeans and a simple white button-down with rolled sleeves, he looked younger, more approachable—and annoyingly handsome, with sharp features softened by warm eyes behind round glasses.

"Y/N," he said with a slight bow. "It's nice to finally meet you properly."

His voice was lower than she'd anticipated, with a gentle quality that didn't match her mental image of a cutthroat tech executive.

"Likewise," she responded automatically, accepting his gesture to enter the car.

The interior smelled of new leather and something else—a subtle, clean scent that she assumed was his cologne. As he slid into the driver's seat, Y/N steeled herself. Handsome or not, this man represented everything she was fighting against—the loss of her autonomy, the end of her carefully constructed life.

"I know a place that's more private than the Sky Garden," Wonwoo said as he pulled into traffic. "If that's alright with you. Somewhere we can actually talk."

Y/N turned to study his profile. Was it possible he had his own agenda for this meeting?

"I'd prefer that," she admitted. "I have some things I'd like to discuss."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I thought you might."

The drive was mostly silent, but not uncomfortably so. Wonwoo seemed content to focus on navigating Seoul's busy streets, occasionally pointing out a landmark or asking a neutral question about her work. Y/N provided brief answers, saving her energy for the real conversation ahead.

He eventually parked near a secluded botanical garden, leading her to a small café nestled among trees just beginning to turn color. The place was nearly empty, offering the privacy both apparently craved.

After they ordered—he knew precisely what kind of tea she preferred, which was mildly disconcerting—Wonwoo leaned forward, his expression serious.

"I think we should address the elephant in the room," he said directly. "This arranged marriage."

Y/N appreciated his straightforwardness. "Yes, we should."

"I understand this must be difficult for you," he continued, surprising her with his perception. "Being told who to marry, having your future decided without your consent."

Something in his tone made Y/N pause. He didn't sound like someone equally trapped in this arrangement; he sounded like someone trying to be understanding of her predicament.

"Isn't it difficult for you as well?" she probed.

Wonwoo's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in their depths. "My situation is... different."

Before she could ask what he meant, their drinks arrived. Y/N wrapped her hands around the warm mug, gathering her courage.

"I have a proposition," she said once the server had left. "A way for both of us to satisfy our families without actually committing to a lifetime together."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his expression cautiously interested. "I'm listening."

"We pretend," Y/N stated simply. "We go along with the engagement, play the happy couple in public. Meanwhile, we live separate lives as much as possible. After a suitable period—maybe a year or two—we stage a falling out. Something believable but not scandalous. We part ways amicably, our families maintain their business connections, and we both regain our freedom."

She held her breath as Wonwoo considered her words, his expression thoughtful. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke:

"And what if it doesn't work?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if our parents don't accept our breakup? What if they push us back together?"

Y/N hadn't considered this possibility. "Then... we make the falling out more dramatic. Irreconcilable differences. Something they can't fix."

Wonwoo studied her for a long moment, his gaze so intent that Y/N fought the urge to squirm in her seat.

"Three years," he finally said.

"Excuse me?"

"Not one or two. Three years. That's how long we commit to this charade. It needs to be believable." He leaned forward slightly. "If we announce the breakup too soon, they'll know it was planned."

His logic was sound, though the thought of maintaining a fake relationship for three years was daunting. Still, three years of pretending was better than a lifetime of reality.

"Three years," she agreed tentatively. "But with conditions. I maintain my career. I continue my medical missions. No children, obviously."

"Agreed," he nodded. "And I have conditions as well. We live together in the house my parents have already purchased. Separate bedrooms, of course," he added quickly, seeing her expression. "But we need to appear committed. They'll expect it."

Y/N swallowed hard. Living together would complicate things significantly. "Any other conditions?"

Something shifted in Wonwoo's expression—a subtle change she couldn't quite identify. "Just one. We make a genuine effort to know each other. To be friends, at least. Three years is a long time to live with a stranger."

The request was reasonable, even practical. If they were to convince the world of their relationship, they needed to understand each other.

"Alright," she conceded. "Friends. But nothing more."

Wonwoo extended his hand across the table. "Then we have a deal. Our three-year plan begins now."

As Y/N placed her hand in his, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something—something in the way his hand lingered around hers, something in the quiet intensity of his gaze.

What she didn't know, what she couldn't know, was that Jeon Wonwoo had just agreed to a plan that aligned perfectly with his own agenda—three years to make the woman he'd admired from afar fall genuinely in love with him.

The house was beautiful—Y/N had to admit that much. Nestled in a quiet neighborhood that somehow managed to be both exclusive and understated, the modern three-bedroom structure was nothing like the ostentatious mansions their parents inhabited. If she had to be trapped in a fake engagement, at least the cage was gilded.

"Your things arrived this morning," Wonwoo said as he unlocked the front door. "I had them placed in the master bedroom. I've taken the room down the hall."

She followed him inside, noting with surprise the warmth of the interior. She'd expected cold minimalism like his parents' home, but this space was inviting—clean lines softened by natural materials, large windows filling the rooms with light, and carefully chosen art that seemed to reflect both Korean tradition and modern sensibilities.

"Did you decorate this?" she asked, running her fingers along a handcrafted wooden shelf.

Wonwoo shook his head. "A designer handled most of it, but I made some adjustments. I wanted it to feel like a home, not a showpiece."

Y/N glanced at him curiously. There it was again—that disconnect between the corporate heir she'd imagined and the thoughtful man before her.

"Let me show you around," he offered, leading her through the space.

The tour ended in a kitchen that would make a professional chef envious—state-of-the-art appliances, expansive countertops, and a view of the small but immaculately landscaped garden.

"Do you cook?" Y/N asked, noting how at ease Wonwoo seemed in this space.

"It's one of my few hobbies," he admitted. "Work doesn't leave time for much else." He hesitated, then added, "I thought I might make dinner tonight. If you're comfortable with that. Consider it a housewarming."

The offer surprised her. In her family, cooking was the staff's responsibility; the idea of the heir to a major corporation preparing dinner was foreign.

"I'd like that," she found herself saying.

Later, as she unpacked in her new bedroom, Y/N's phone buzzed with messages from Ela and Alexys:

Well??? Did you meet him? Is he a troll? A robot? DETAILS, WOMAN! - Alexys

Hope you're okay. Call if you need anything. Mingyu says Wonwoo is actually decent, for what it's worth. - Ela

Y/N blinked at Ela's message. "Wait, Mingyu knows Wonwoo?"

As if on cue, her phone rang with Ela's call.

"You didn't know?" Ela sounded surprised when Y/N asked. "They've been friends since university. Mingyu never mentioned him because, well, you know how my husband is—he doesn't like to name-drop."

Y/N sank onto her new bed, processing this connection. "What else does Mingyu know about him?"

"Just that he's not like other chaebol heirs. Works ridiculous hours, actually earned his position rather than having it handed to him. Mingyu says he's brilliant with technology but awkward with people." Ela paused. "Did you propose your plan?"

"Yes," Y/N confirmed, lowering her voice although she was alone in the room. "Three years of pretending, then a clean break."

"And he agreed?" Ela sounded skeptical.

"Surprisingly easily. I think he's as trapped as I am."

There was a strange pause before Ela spoke again. "Y/N... did you consider that he might have his own reasons for agreeing?"

Before Y/N could respond, a gentle knock on her door interrupted the conversation.

"I need to go," she told Ela quickly. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She opened the door to find Wonwoo standing there, sleeves rolled up further and an apron tied around his waist. The domesticity of the image was so at odds with what she knew of him that Y/N momentarily stared.

"Dinner's almost ready," he said, seemingly unaware of her reaction. "Nothing fancy, just some doenjang jjigae and banchan."

"That sounds perfect," she replied, following him downstairs.

The kitchen was filled with mouthwatering aromas, the countertops lined with small dishes of perfectly prepared side dishes. As they settled at the dining table with steaming bowls of stew, Y/N found herself genuinely impressed.

"This is delicious," she admitted after her first bite.

A pleased smile curved Wonwoo's lips, transforming his serious face. "My grandmother's recipe. She insisted I learn to cook for myself, even though my parents thought it was beneath me."

"Your grandmother sounds wise."

"She was," he said softly, and Y/N noted the past tense with a pang of empathy.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the awkwardness of their situation temporarily set aside. It was strange, Y/N thought, how quickly the human mind adapted to new circumstances. This morning, she had been dreading meeting Jeon Wonwoo; now, she was sharing a home-cooked meal with him as they embarked on a three-year deception together.

"I've been thinking about our arrangement," Wonwoo said as they finished eating. "We should establish some ground rules. Beyond what we've already agreed on."

Y/N nodded. "That makes sense."

"For instance, we should discuss how we handle public appearances, family obligations, holidays..."

"And dating," Y/N added, thinking ahead. "If we're going to be living separate lives, we need parameters for discretion."

Something flickered in Wonwoo's eyes—so briefly Y/N thought she might have imagined it. "Of course," he said evenly. "Discretion would be paramount."

Their conversation continued late into the evening, mapping out the contours of their pretense. By the time Y/N retreated to her bedroom, she felt surprisingly at ease with the arrangement. Wonwoo was reasonable, practical, and seemingly as committed to maintaining their independence as she was.

As she prepared for bed in her new home, Y/N remembered Ela's question: Did you consider that he might have his own reasons for agreeing?

She dismissed the thought. Whatever Wonwoo's reasons were, they aligned with her goals. That was all that mattered. Tomorrow would be another day of adjustments, of learning to navigate this strange new reality. But for tonight, at least, she could sleep knowing she had found a way to protect the life she cherished.

In his own room down the hall, Jeon Wonwoo sat at his desk, a small smile playing on his lips as he closed the leather-bound journal where he'd been writing. On its cover, inscribed in his neat handwriting, were the words:

“Our three year plan.”

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hamiltonaf · 7 months ago

Text

Veiled Emotions | Lando Norris

(Part 1) | Part 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x BFF!Female Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: None

A/N: Hello my loves. I’m back from my hiatus ! Had this one in my drafts for so long and finally got out of writers block to finish it. Let me know your thoughts if you’d like a part 2 ? Enjoy ! X

(Y/F/N) - Your Friend’s Name

(Y/N/N) - Your Nickname

“Oh my days” I said aloud. “No fricking way” I slapped a hand over my mouth in shock as I stared at my Instagram notifications. “Bestie what happened ?” (Y/F/N) asked as she rushed over to my side. “You are not going to believe who just followed me” I said as I looked at her. “Tell me already !” (Y/F/N) yelled. “The footballer, João Félix !” I squealed. “Shut up ! Give me that” she grabbed my phone from my hand to take a closer look. “What the- wait a second..isn’t he-“ “Yepp” I nodded as I pressed my lips together. “This is major !” She shouted.

“But how crazy that he followed me the same time these rumours started with Lando ?” I said as I snatched my phone back. “This sounds like sweet revenge to me” (Y/F/N) said as she rubbed her hands together. “I wouldn’t say revenge, I mean they’re just rumours” I shrugged. “Babe sometimes you’re blind and I feel bad for you” she said as she rubbed my back. “What do you mean I’m blind ?” I furrowed my brows.

“Don’t you see how that dumb ass doesn’t care about you when she’s around ? He doesn’t call you or text you, but if you tried calling or texting him he’s always so called ‘busy’ ! He doesn’t make time for you anymore considering you guys have known each other for 2 years now. The only time he knows you is when she’s not around which is so not on. You don’t deserve that treatment” she lectured.

“I get where you’re coming from and gosh.. I wish it was so easy to stop thinking about him, but you already know how I feel. It’s a one sided love story” I sighed. “Get over him ! I’ve been telling you this for so long, he doesn’t deserve you. If he wants to prioritise her over you, yet he knows you for god knows how long, that speaks for itself” she said. “Yeah it’s easy to say get over him, not so easy when I still get tagged on pictures and see him all over my timeline” I fussed. “Block him” she simply said. “Are you mad ? These gossip accounts and fans will notice and then people won’t stop talking about it. I can forsee what’s going to happen already, leave it to me” I reassured her. “Ugh fine, but please stop letting him have control over you” she warned. “Control over me ? Ain’t no way, I can play the same game ” I grinned to myself. I followed Joāo.

To think that my follower count is such that youoão won’t notice one extra follower, but I guessed wrong because these F1 gossip accounts don’t play. It’s only been an hour, we haven’t even DMed each other, just a follow back and F1 gossip girl had posted.

***BREAKING NEWS***

Spotted: Lando getting cozy with Magui at the trendiest spots in town. But hold your gasps, because there’s a juicy twist —João Felix and (Y/N) are now following each other. Is this just a casual follow, or a strategic move in a high-stakes game of love and rivalry ? As the drama unfolds, one thing’s for sure: the Upper East Side’s favorite social circle is about to get even more complicated. Stay tuned, darling—this is just the beginning of the scandal.

XOXO, Gossip Girl

After reading the post I felt as if I was apart of the Gossip Girl series, a childhood dream come true. Jokes aside… I showed (Y/F/N) the post and we had a good laugh for a few minutes. “At this point you NEED to date Joāo, give the fans what they want !” she said as she shook me. “Dating for drama is too much work and I don’t do fake romance” I rolled my eyes. “Girl… who said it has to be fake ? What if y’all actually fall in love oh my god !” She squealed. “Not when that idiot lives in my head rent free” I said as I grabbed the pillow from beside me and screamed into it in frustration. “Babe you need to calm down-“ and just then my Twitch notification went off. It could only go off for two people - Lando or Max.

We shared a look simultaneously, (Y/F/N) was indirectly giving me permission to open the stream. Max is in frame on the golf cart and he starts off by greeting everyone, as well as giving a brief run down of what they’re doing. I failed to remember that my username is visible until I read the comments which everyone is tagging me and saying hi or bringing up Joāo…oh dear. “I see we have our bestie watching the stream. Hey (Y/N/N) !” Max waved. I typed back ‘Heyy Max !’.

The comments were only about Joāo Felix within a few seconds. Max starts reading one of the comments, “(Y/N) wins in life with Max and Lando as her best friends and now a footballer, Joāo, is her potential boyfriend ! Unreal.” I was at a loss for words. (Y/F/N) and I looked at each other and burst out laughing at the comment, as much as I love the fans they have gone crazy. “Say what now ?” Lando said as he then came into frame and sat beside Max on the golf cart. “Shit” I muttered. “(Y/N/N) is on the stream” Max glanced at him. “Hey bestie ! Missing you” Lando said with a smile. “I hate him” I said to myself. “Me too” (Y/F/N) agreed.

‘Enjoy Portugal !’ I typed in the comments. “Bro did you know (Y/N) and Joāo are dating” Max said as he watched Lando jump off the golf cart. “You’re joking” Lando scoffed. Max cleared his throat and coughed before Lando could comment any further. “This is like watching Gossip Girl in the flesh” (Y/F/N) said. “Why does he look good” I whined. “I’ve had enough of you acting like this, please leave the stream and watch something else like TikTok or something” (Y/F/N) said as she snatched my phone to close Twitch and open TikTok instead.

I swear this day is like a fever dream. “Are you taking the piss” (Y/F/N) said as she was viewing a TikTok. “What ? Show me too” I said as I grabbed my phone from her hand. It’s a TikTok of Max’ girlfriend and Joāo’s ex. That means the rumours must be true seeing how close they are in the video.

“So much for thinking TikTok would be a good distraction” (Y/F/N) said as she closed TikTok. “This day couldn’t be more of a joke” I sighed. “You know what I’ve had enough ! Let’s get ready, we’re going out” I practically got dragged to my room. “Going where exactly ?” I asked as I sat at the edge of the bed. “Anywhere ! As long as you don’t look at your phone today” (Y/F/N) said as she rummaged through her bag for an outfit. “But I’m so not in the mood” I said as I fell back on the bed. Just then my notifications went off. A text from Lando. Strange.

(Y/F/N) paused with searching for a dress and scurried to lay beside me.

Little did Lando know was that (Y/F/N) had taken my phone away that’s why I didn’t answer his calls and bonus of it all, she lied by answering his question. “I guess fake love it is then” I furrowed my brows. “Why chase when you’re the catch, right ?” She said as she stood up to face me. “I mean I guess so” I shrugged. “You have to be confident and know that you’re worth more than chasing after this boy. He needs to chase after you” she said as she held me at my shoulders and shook me.

“Are you going to make this boy fall for you or what ?” She asked. I was hesitant to answer, “Bestie… I thought you didn’t like him” I pressed my lips together. “Only because he’s being an idiot you and I hate seeing you like this. But if it means playing cupid and bringing back my old bestie - more importantly that you’re happy then I’ll support it” she smiled softly. “Awww.. stop ! Now enough pep talk, we need to get dressed” I clapped my hands and jumped off the bed in a hurry.

yourusername added to story

(Y/F/N) suggested to post on my story as if I’m out with João and I think I nailed it considering it got a reaction out of Lando. He reacted with ��😍’ and added, ‘You actually went on a date with him 😂’. (Y/F/N) said nothing would tick him off more than leaving him on read and that’s what I did.

After a fun night of dinner and drinks with our other girl friends, we made it back home safely and all I just wanted to do was go to sleep. I kicked off my heels and walked over to the kitchen to fill up a vase with water for the bouquet - Lando’s name lit up across my lock screen to video call. I rolled my eyes, “Ugh to answer or not to answer ?”. “Girl answer ! I wanna hear this” (Y/F/N) said as she sat beside me, away from my camera view but enough for her to see what’s happening. “Hey you, what a surprise” I greeted. “Are you back home ?” He asked. “Yeah I actually just got back” I said as I leaned against the counter.

“At 12am ?” He furrowed his brows. “I guess you can say we lost track of time” I grinned. (Y/F/N) was trying her best not to laugh. “Where did he take you ?” He asked curiously. I then grabbed the bouquet and tried to place it nicely as a whole into the vase. “Is this why you called ? To get information ?” I raised a brow. “No ! I just miss you that’s all” he sighed. “You seem perfectly fine without me, in fact you look like you’re having a lot of fun.. I don’t see how me being there would make a difference” I shrugged.

“Okay now what’s with the sarcasm ? You’re acting as if I didn’t ask you to come with !” He argued. “Oh I’m sorry Lando, but I would hate to be the third wheel for both you and Max.” “Third wheel for me ? Why is that ?” He looked confused. “Oh my god how slow are you” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes now, tell me why !” He broke into a smile as he started to laugh. The audacity. “Are you trying to make me look like a mug ?” I sniggered. “No no, it’s just cute to see you get upset” he smiled. “Wow okay. Anyways I’m gonna go” I grew annoyed very quickly, I just want this call to end. “Wait wait. I’m sorry okay, I’ll stop talking” he pouted. Nope, not gonna work. “No..it’s getting late anyways. I’m gonna go. Night” I huffed. “But (Y/N/N)-“ “Lando I’m tired please.” “Alright sorry..good night..love ya” he sighed. “Bye” I said softly and ended the call.

“Girlll can y’all just admit y’all love each other at this point. I felt like I was watching a couple fight. Geez” (Y/F/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’m annoyed because I feel like he called for some entertainment for his girlfriend. I’m sure she’s dying to know what her ex and I were up to, and also how she can get payback for whatever reason” I said as we walked back to the room. “Babe I think you’re overthinking it. From what I saw he genuinely looked lonely and just wanted to talk to you because he misses you” she said. “Erm I’m sorry but what happened to my best friend who was against him ?” I raised a brow. “I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt” she smiled proudly.

“Love how everyone is ganging up against me like I’m the villain. Love to see it ! Not.” I faked a smile. “Sleep over it and talk to him tomorrow” she suggested. “Hmm we’ll see” I said lowly.

#f1 oneshots #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris imagines #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagines

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quaintii · 2 years ago

Text

Across the Street

Part 2

Part 1 <- content: divorced father, babysitting, teasing, slowburn (kinda sped up ig?), more 🤫 18+ MATURE CONTENT -- SMUT 😆😆 (@ for art is @kimmy_arts0912 on Twitter).

MDNI

Two hours later, you hear a knock on the door. The knocks were very quick, spaced about half a second apart. Three knocks exactly. You get up from the couch and open the door.

Gabriella stands in front of you, staring at you with wide eyes. She was dressed in a cute yellow blouse and a pair of black shorts.

"H-hello...?" *She asks quietly. She looks excited but also scared, as if she knew you were going to take care of her tonight.

"Hey!! How are you Gabi??" You squeal as you lightly pinch her chubby cheeks. You wanted to leave the best impression so you could stay with this job; you still enjoyed babysitting and connecting with kids.

"Amazing!" She said with a high pitched voice.

Gabi nods and smiles, seeming to enjoy your company already. Miguel would most likely be gone for the rest of the night. She extends her arms and looks up at you for you to pick her up.

"Daddy said you'd be great at taking care of me."

"Of course! I will be here with you always. Want to go play upstairs?" You ask as you carry her off the floor and into your arms.

She smiles at you, her expression giving off an innocent look. Her eyes light up at the suggestion of playing.

She asks, her sweet smile increasing as she continues to ask questions.

"Yes! Can we play dolls? Or dress up? Is that okay...?"

"Anything you want, Gabi!"

"Yay!!"

She smiles brightly at you again, her enthusiasm clear. You bring back on the floor and she starts to walk up the stairs, calling you to follow her.

"Come on, come on! Let's go play!"

She walks up fast, expecting you to follow.

You follow Gabi and enter her room. The room is painted in bright pink with a lot of plush and stuffed animals on a huge bed. Gabi walks towards her toy chest and starts looking for something inside it.

"Help me look for my dolls!"

She glances at you as she continues to search through her toys. You walk to her other toy chest and rummage through the toys, finally found dolls at the pit bottom.

Gabi's eyes go wide when she sees her favorite doll. She takes it and wraps her arms around it, looking at you again. She had a huge smile on her face because she was so happy and excited.

"Let's play!"

She puts the doll next to her on the bed, the bed big enough for the two of you to have plenty of room. Gabi pats the mattress beside her, suggesting you to sit down. You sit down next to her, grabbing one of the dolls in the small pile. It had black curly hair with tan skin, freckles scattered across her face with a pink ballroom dress attached to it.

Gabi looks at the doll you're holding and nods. She takes her own favourite doll and begins telling a story, acting out the characters of the play using her two dolls. You notice her sweet smile and hear the adorable sound of her voice.

As she plays, Gabi seems to be enjoying herself. She even includes you in her play, asking you what her doll should say in certain situations. She clearly likes your company and she sees you as a friend already.

An hour later, Gabi continues her storyline. She seems to be having a great time, as she looks at you every so often. She giggles and smiles at you, seeming to appreciate all the little movements you make to participate. Your phone vibrates and you check your notification; Miguel is texting you.

"Hope you two are having fun. I'll be back in another hour or so. Be careful with her."

I laugh with her as she tells me a couple jokes and I hear a ding from my phone; her dad. I open the notification and text him back "We are having so much fun! She's so adorable!" You sent the text, waiting for a message in return.

Almost immediately you get a text back. "Great! See you soon then." You react with a thumbs up emoji.

She continues to laugh, smiling wide as she looks at you. She plays with her dolls in different positions and even makes one of her dolls 'fall' in love with yours. She giggles and smiles excitedly when that happens.

She then hears your phone ringing, and stops to look at you. She stays still for a moment and then speaks when you open the text message.

"Is that my daddy?"

You can't help but smile at the way she said 'daddy.' She seems to be fond of Miguel and admires him greatly.

"Yes it is! He's still at work so he'll be here soon." You turn off your phone to see Gabi with a small frown. "What's wrong Gabi?" You ask her as you scoot closer to her, caressing her cheeks. "I don't get to see daddy often because of mommy.." *she muttered. You put the pieces together; he was divorced..

Gabi's face turns sad when she mentions her mom. She looks down and hugs her doll tightly, her big brown eyes closed as she frowns.

"I don't get to see him as much because my mommy didn't like him anymore..."

She speaks in a small voice, sounding disappointed with the situation of her family. She starts shaking her head slowly.

"I... I wish I could see daddy more often." She mumbled. I see the sadness in her eyes and scoot closer to her and give her a tight hug.

"It's okay Gabi.. your dad loves you so so much! He would do anything for you." You caress her curly hair to soothe her.

Gabi accepts your hug and leans on you, enjoying you holding her in your arms. She feels comforted and warm, and you notice her face lighting up for a second, like she finally felt at ease, safe and happy.

"I like you. You're nice." She mumbles, speaking softly.

"Can you stay with me tonight until daddy gets back? I don't want to be alone..."

"I would never leave you alone, Gabriella..

30 minutes later, you encourage Gabi to eat some cereal and brush her teeth. At first she refused but gives in as you playfully kept nudging her. You change her into soft pajamas and read her a bedtime story to fall asleep.

You turn off some of the lights, leaving the bedstand lamp on. She plants a soft kiss on your cheeks before dozing off to sleep. You smile lightly, returning the kiss and closed her door as quietly as you can.

You go downstairs and hear the door creaking and close shut. It's him. Miguel smiles tiredly at you.

"Good evening. So... is Gabi asleep?"

His voice is quiet, not wanting to wake up Gabi. He crosses his arms and looks at you, clearly tired. His eyes scan you from top to bottom, and when he's done, his gaze lingers on your lips for a second. Once he realizes what he's doing, he quickly changes his look.

"How has everything been? Was Gabi misbehaving at all?"

Miguel smiles again, not seeming to want to go to sleep just yet.

"She was wonderful, Mr O'Hara. She's an amazing little girl." You smiled at him softly. Miguel nods, seeming to appreciate your words. He notices you smiling at him again, and then smiles once more.

"It's a pleasure for me, too, Miss... L/N. Is that right?"

He asks, raising a brow. You nod in response.

"Thank you for helping me take care of Gabi. She's quite a handful."

He puts one of his hands behind his head.

"And... I'm sorry to ask but... I know it's very late, but..." He peered at you.

"...would you care for some wine?"

Miguel smiles when you accept his offer to drink some wine, and walks over to grab a pair of glasses. He fills both of them halfway with wine, and hands a glass to you. He then takes a sip from his cup and looks at you. He smiles, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your lips, and then back to your eyes. His eyes are still a bit bloodshot, but he looks more awake now.

"So.. I'd like to learn more about the woman who took care of Gabi tonight..." He asked. As he took another sip of his wine, he placed it on down on the countertop, tilting his head at you, waiting for yo to speak.

"Really?" You asked playfully.

Miguel chuckles and nods.

"Yes, yes. That's what I said. I'm curious to know more about you. Can I ask why you decided to help take care of Gabi tonight? Did you need the money... Or did you enjoy the company with her? Maybe you just do that whenever you have nothing else to do, and were bored at home?"

His eyes stay on you, waiting for your response. Miguel pours a bit more of wine into his cup, his lips slightly red now.

"Gabi is an amazing child, I loved spending time with her but I also took this job opportunity, once again thank you really, to fix my student debt." You smile as you take another sip of your wine.

Miguel smiles.

"Yes, Gabi is a lovely daughter. You're lucky to spend time with her. And...yes, I figured the money was important to you too. I'm glad I could offer you that opportunity."

Miguel nods and smiles, finishing another cup of wine.

"I'm glad you enjoy her company. She's going to feel really happy about being her babysitter from now on."

Miguel's eyes then start to wander all over your face, your curves catching his attention.

"Can I... ask you something personal..if you don't mind that is.."

"Sure, it's fine."

Miguel's eyes stop gazing across your curves, and then look at your face. He sighs and then speaks.

"Forgive me if this is too forward... But do you have a boyfriend? Or a husband? Or anyone special in your life?"

Miguel takes another sip of wine from his glass, and then smiles at you again, looking at your mouth once more.

"If not... Are you single?" Miguel smiles at you with a teasing expression.

Miguel smiles, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. He stares at you with his brown eyes, his gaze making you feel slightly nervous and excited at the same time. "I'm single actually.." You muttered softly, tracing the outline of the glass.

"Well, I think it's very unfortunate then. Such a beautiful woman without a boyfriend..." He looks at you intensely for a moment, before speaking again.

"May I ask you if you like older men? I know I am not in my 20s anymore... But I'm sure this old, tired man still has some charm..."

Miguel laughs a bit nervously, smiling at you and drinking more wine from his cup.

You were left speechless, with a dry throat as you heard that question fall off his lips. "Uhm.. maybe.." You grin nervously as you turn your head to a different way to avoid his stare.

"Maybe you should give an old man a chance. Maybe he can teach you a lot of new things that the young boys can't..."

Miguel's gaze continues to look at you, his mouth curling in a very seductive smile. You feel like he's tempting you to kiss him. He seems to enjoy the view of you. You also notice him looking at you lustfully. That gets your heart pumping and blood rushing to your cunt.

Miguel's gaze doesn't leave you. He leans towards you until your faces are about an inch apart, his voice whispering in your ear. Your heart pumps faster when his hand touches your back.

"Call me Miguel... Mr O'Hara is only for work. But we're not at work any longer... Isn't that right?"

He looks down at your lips once again, and his eyes look up at your face.

"How about...you and I spend a little bit of time together tonight?"

You look down at your feet, feeling nervous. Heat flushing your face to a soft red.

Miguel chuckles at your nervousness, clearly noticing it. He notices you shifting your gaze to look down at the ground, and then lifting your chin to look at his face. He leans over and places a hand on your chin, keeping your head up and your gaze on him.

"You don't have to be scared, ... I don't bite, or do I..?" He growled.

Miguel chuckles when you stare at him with 'doe eyes', looking a bit like you were mesmerized by him. He notices your gaze on him once again. Then, he leans forward, pressing his lips onto yours. His hands gently cup your face as he kisses you, his tongue slowly exploring your mouth. He pulls away and looks down at you.

You take a few breaths and crash your lips on his. The hunger of lust. Your fingers tug at his hair, pulling him even closer. The both of you breathe heavily against eachothers faces, separating for air. A slick of saliva holding onto your lips.

Your kiss surprises Miguel but he likes the feeling of your lips crashing onto his. Miguel continues to kiss you, matching your aggressiveness. His hands run down your face and then along your back, before moving to your hips. His body pressed hard against yours and his lips pressed against yours, still exploring them softly but also rather greedily.

He pressed you against the counter and pulled you on top. Miguel chuckles even more seeing your enthusiasm as he lifts you up and places you on top of the countertop.

He starts to unbutton and slide his button-up shirt off, showing his abs and chest before you. His eyes are still on your face, but you catch him glancing down at your body a couple times. You also notice a bulge slowly growing in his jeans. He had a huge tent.

As he pressed himself on your covered cunt, the hot feeling made you arch your back and mewl his name.

"What? Does that feel good?" He hummed and nibbled your neck once more. "We have to be quiet... Don't want to wake Gabi up y'know.."

He sighs softly and smiles at you, continuing to grind into you. Miguel's eyes close lets out a husky groan when you caress his body, your soft hands roaming his chest. He continues to kiss you, gently biting your lips every so often as his one hand reaches behind you, tugging the hem of your shorts.

Miguel wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. His hips push against yours, as if he wanted you to feel every inch of his body. You felt his hard bulge tease your clothed cunt, rubbing himself with more pressure against you, grinding his hips on your clit as he nibbled your neck softly.

You let out small husky moans as more pressure would be applied to your cunt.

He shivers slightly as your hands run closer to his bulge. His hands running down your zipper, unbuttoning your shorts but not removing them. His fingers pinching your clit softly, making him even more needy by hearing your desperate voice; practically begging.

"I've barely touched you and you're already so f'king soaked for me cariño...que maravillosa coño.." (what an amazing pussy). He touched the hem of your underwear and slid his fingers on your scorching cunt.

He motioned his fingers in a circular rotation; lifting them up to his mouth and tasting you. "You taste so good..fuck. Look what you do to me amor... ábreme la boca muñeca." (Open your mouth, doll.) He bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw some blood as you stuck out your tongue, obeying him. He rutted his fingers into your throat, making you gag continuously whenever he could push harder.

His whispers and praises sunk in my skin, filling every part of my body with satisfaction.

Before he can do anything else, you hear Gabi's voice from her room.

"Daddy??!" She yelled as soft thuds were heard, heading downstairs.

It seems like she has woken up and her voice is loud. Miguel flinches and looks over. He lets out an loud groan.

"Si mija, es papi.." He responded back. "Coño.." he whispered under his breath. He rubbed his palm on his face, exhaustion; heavy bags showing that clearly as you glanced over at him.

He quickly changed back into his work shirt, ruffling his already disheveled hair, a bit frustrated and eyes furrowed. You jump off the countertop, standing there nervously as you fix your shorts. Miguel waved at you, sending a wink your way. You sneak to the door, before shutting it close you peered your eyes into Miguel. He reached his arms to his daughter, carrying her upstairs. You close the door shut and walk back to your house, still in shock.

part 3.

Taglist: @videogamedriver @azxr3 @onfuis @redrxbel @honeycovered-bandaids @eskamybeloved @oof1 @yumeeesss @lovelotsemilie @blakeaha @skrunkle11 @miaasmf @avatricu @deputy-videogamer @khaleesihavilliard @nellyboosworld @hk-4ever

a/n: hai guys I jus finished part 2, sorry it took a while lately I've been practicing skating sooo 🤭 here's some munchies.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #smut #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #part 2 #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ posts

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whatifitis · 19 days ago

Text

♡ that's all i need to hear - LN 4 ♡

Summary: He lost you and it's his biggest regret in life. If given a second chance, can he win you back?

Author's Note: Hello! This is a happy ending for 'you're losing me' but it can also be read as a standalone. This is not proofread and feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 2512

CW: angst, fluff, happy ending

Voicemail (1) From: Lando Norris

Hi, baby. I know I just texted you a bunch and ended up telling you to ignore it. But, I just- *deep inhale* I really do miss you. I was a right dick in treating you like shit and letting you go. Ehm… I’ll be honest, I dunno why exactly I called and texted. I mean, I want to talk to you *sniffle* so bad. And I- You’re the only one who really gets me. And I know that’s not- I don’t- fuck. I realize now that I fucked up a lot in our relationship. I know that I was awful and inconsiderate to you, especially when you were always there for me whenever I needed you.

I’m not sure if you’ll listen to this message. I get it if you ignore all these. I kinda want you to ignore these. You deserve so much more than what I gave you. And I want you to be happy and get everything you want in life. But I also selfishly wish that it’s me that you choose to be happy with. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it… I love you, Y/n. Never stopped.

-=+=-

*buzz buzz buzz*

You’re awoken by the buzzing and light that’s being emitted by your phone. You roll over in bed and groan, reaching to turn off your phone when the notifications catch your eye. 7 text messages and a missed phone call from Lando.

What is he doing calling you at 2 in the morning? You ask yourself, pressing play on the voicemail he left.

After listening to his message, you called him back immediately. He sounded drunk and while you still thought he was a prick, you still cared about him and wanted to make sure he was safe.

The phone didn’t even ring twice before Lando answered, “Hello? Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I’m- I- I’m outside of a club or something… I think.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “You think?”

“Mate, I dunno. I’m in the middle of a random city in Prague and I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I’m quite drunk at the minute.”

“Nooo. You’re drunk? I genuinely couldn’t tell from your slurred words and hundreds of misspelled words in your texts.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Remember I’m also dyslexic.” Lando firmly stated.

“Sure… Are you alone?” concern lacing your voice.

“Yeah… I just needed to get out.”

“”I understand. But I think you should go back to your hotel now. Safely, preferably.”

“Yeah, I might. I just- FUCK. It’s so late for you. I’m so sorry for waking you. I don’t know what I was thinking, I honestly-”

“Lando, it’s okay. You didn’t wake me.” you try to convince him, not wanting to make him feel bad.

“Okay, well, I know that’s a lie. You used to hate when I kept you up late. I used to give you a celsius everytime I kept you up late so that you didn’t completely hate me… guess it didn’t really work in the long run.”

“...I don’t hate you, Lando.”

“Nah. You do.” he laughs, almost pitifully, “I honestly think you should absolutely hate my guts. I was really mean to you.”

“Can we not do this? Please.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just get home safe, yeah? Text me when you’re safe.”

“Yeah. I will. But uhm, Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

The line is silent for quite a while, you start to wonder if the line has dropped, “Lando?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just- I was wondering if, maybe, we could talk some time? I don’t expect us to like get back together or anything. As much as I would want that, I just really need to talk to you. Please.”

Now you’re the one who’s silent. Do you want to talk? Kind of? But what good could that do? What’s the harm in going? You’ve both had time to think since that night. You’ve both calmed down so maybe it is time to talk. Maybe it can be a learning experience for the both of you.

“Yeah. Um, do you know when you’ll be back home? Or I can fly out for a race or something. Just need to sort it out with work.”

“I can fly home tomorrow.”

“Lando, it’s the middle of the night for you and you’re drunk. You should get some rest tomorrow. We have plenty of time to get it all sorted.”

“No, I wanna see you. I can sleep on the plane. Just text me when and where and I’ll be there. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/n. Thank you.”

And just like that, Lando hung up. You didn’t even get a chance to say goodnight or anything. Just when you were about to throw your phone onto the other side of the bed, you got a notification from Lando: “I know I just hung up on you and didn’t let you say anything back but it’s cause I got scared and I didn’t want you to fight me on meeting tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

You let out a chuckle and sent your reply, “It’s okay. I get it. Just please try and get some rest before your flight and during your flight. Eat something and drink a ton of water as well. AND DON'T FORGET TO TEXT ME WHEN YOU’RE BACK AT YOUR HOTEL”

With no reply, you lay back down on your bed and try to relax. It’s been 6 months since the night you ended things with Lando. After a long internal battle, you began making peace with not having him around. You still missed him from time to time but it truly was destroying you knowing that he was constantly choosing something else over you. Knowing he was choosing not to talk to you. Part of you wants him back but you know it’s not that easy.

You aimlessly scrolled through your phone as you waited for Lando’s text saying he got back to his hotel safely. Since the breakup, less and less edits of Lando have landed on your feed, something you’ve been grateful for. But today, one of them showed up on your feed. It was an edit of you and Lando, Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers playing in the back.

No one knew, but this was one of the songs you used to play on repeat after the breakup. You were always repeating to yourself that breaking up was for the better. Lando wasn’t emotionally available and you couldn’t keep waiting and hoping that maybe one day he’d change.

Before you could think any further, your phone buzzed in your hand. Lando texted you, letting you know he was now in his hotel room and about to sleep. Turning off your phone and setting it to the side, you turn in bed and close your eyes. Your brain is spinning and making you question whether you should cancel on meeting Lando tomorrow, or maybe even asking for a raincheck. You weren’t sure if the two of you were mature enough to have this conversation yet. You went back and forth in your mind until sleep eventually overtook your thoughts and blanketed your running mind with silence.

-=+=-

For the first time in months, it was sunny outside. The typical grey clouds were nowhere to be seen, just golden rays of sun rained down on the people of London. You could feel the breeze blowing past you, getting caught in the skirt of your dress as you made your way to the park where you and Lando agreed to meet.

You thought you would be nervous, possibly fiddling with your hands or jewelry, rambling to yourself of what could happen or how things could go wrong. But you’re not. You feel quite peaceful, as if you’re simply going for a stroll in the park. You’re not sure why this is. Maybe you didn’t have any expectations or hopes for today. Maybe you unknowingly made peace with this whole situation with Lando a long time ago.

Before you knew it, you had made it to the park. You stood and scanned the area, keeping an eye out for a familiar, curly-haired man. And there he was, sitting on a bench, shaking his leg and checking his phone every 2 seconds. As you made your way to him, Lando spotted you and immediately stood from the bench, so quick that he almost threw his phone out of his hand.

“Hey.” Lando said, almost breathless.

“Hey.”

“Uh-” Lando sounds, motioning for you to have a seat on the bench next to him.

It’s quiet for a moment, not necessarily because neither of you know where to begin. But it’s as if the both of you are giving each other the space and time to ground yourself before unfolding this turn of events.

“I have no excuse for the things I did. Or the things I didn’t do.” Lando says, looking out towards the park that thrives in front of the both of you.

You turn to look at him, not saying anything, just listening as he takes a breath and continues, “I don’t want to waste your time. You deserve an apology and acknowledgement. I was not a good boyfriend to you. You gave me everything. You gave me your time. You gave me your love. You gave me your loyalty. You gave me your patience. And you got nothing out of that besides me discarding you. I am fortunate to know you enough to know that my actions had a big affect on you and how you perceive yourself. But you need to know you deserve so much more than that. That discard had nothing to do with you. Listen, I didn’t call you here today because I want to win you back and get back together. As much as I want that, I know it’s not fair to you and I want you to get everything you deserve in life. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one to give you that. I’m sorry for hurting you. You trusted me, and I broke that. Instead of listening to you, I made you feel invisible. I got defensive when you needed comfort… I should have made you feel safe again. I should have sat with your tears and listened.”

This whole time, you sat unmoving. A neutral emotion painted your features as you listened to the man you once dreamed of marrying. And a little part of you still wishes for that. But he needs to know. He needs to know how much his absence and neglect really affected you, how it morphed all your thoughts into something that’s hard to undo.

“I noticed when you weren’t excited with my presence anymore.” he turns and looks at you, watches you as you share something that makes you vulnerable. Something he knows you hate doing, “I noticed when talking to me seemed like a chore for you. I noticed when you started making up excuses so you didn’t have to talk to me. I noticed when the compliments stopped. I noticed when the affection stopped. I noticed when you got distant. I noticed. I noticed and I stayed because I just wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by you for just a little longer. You meant more to me than I meant to you. And I guess that could partially be my fault-”

“No” Lando voice cracks, “None of it was your fault. I was awful to you and it had nothing to do with you. I was just- I just didn’t know how to handle everything. And I got scared. I got scared of my feelings for you and so I pushed you away. And in doing so, I hurt you. I will forever regret my decisions and I don’t expect forgiveness.” his nose grows red as his eyes brim with tears.

He’s on the brink of crying, and you’re just there. You don’t feel sad, you don’t feel happy either. You just feel… normal? You find yourself in the middle of a scale, balancing between endings. Either you walk away today alone, having closure. Or you walk away with the person in front of you who you still hope for a future with. Was it crazy for you to still want that after everything? Maybe. But what is life if you don’t take risks and learn?

“You know, it’s crazy, but there’s still a part of me that wants to keep loving you. A part of me still wants the future I’d planned for us.” you laugh.

Lando lets a tear fall and looks to the floor, “We could still have that. We could still try.”

“We could. But how can I be sure you won’t throw me off to the side again? How can I be sure that you won’t leave again?” This thought makes your heart sink, recalling how destroyed and empty you felt when everything fell apart.

Lando sits up straight and looks you in the eye, determination written in him “I can’t promise you I’ll be perfect. I’m gonna fuck up… a lot” he laughs, “I can’t promise constant rainbows and butterflies. I can’t promise that it’ll be easy. But what I can promise is that I will prove to you, everyday, that I love you and that you are everything to me. I will devote my time to showing you that you don’t have to be afraid of me leaving ever again. And if you ever feel unhappy or invisible in this relationship ever again, I want you to leave my ass, yeah? I don’t want you to suffer for a year again, or even a month. Put yourself first.”

You feel your nose begin to tingle, tears forming on your waterline. This was all you ever wanted from him. You wanted him to listen, to learn, and to remember you. You wanted him to truly love you.

“And what if I need time? To think and decide what I want?”

“Then you can have all the time in the world. And when you come to a decision, I will respect it. If you tell me to stay, I’ll stay. If you tell me to go… I’ll go.” His voice breaks again, lip trembling as he faces the facts and realizes this could be the last time he sees you, yet still holding a small glimpse of hope in his chest that you’ll choose him.

Raising one of your hands, you softly cup the side of his face, wiping away his tears with your thumb. You look him in the eyes, just looking. You could decide right now, what your fate is. You could decide to walk away and never turn back. You could decide to hug and kiss him right now, choosing to spend an eternity loving him, possibly. Or you could decide that you need space and time. He was giving you the chance to choose, so you did.

“Stay.”

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kamiversee · 9 months ago

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˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

7 | What's it gonna take

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, fluff, teasing, dry humping, sexual tension, etc.

❧ Word Count | 5.6k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——The next morning you wake up with your cheek pressed against something warm, an oversized t-shirt clothing you and one of your legs resting atop something. You quickly find out that the something in question happens to be none other than the man you had sex with the night prior, your best friend, Choso Kamo.

Laying on his naked chest, before your eyes even peel open, you relish in the gentle smell of his cologne. Surely you don’t remember either of you showering last night and yet here he was smelling as though nothing had even occurred. But hey, you’re pretty sure you passed out at some point so you wouldn’t be surprised if he cleaned himself up while you were sleeping.

The sound of a phone dinging oddly close by makes you finally crack your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is a phone in Choso’s hand not too far away from you. Since you were lying slightly on top of him, you could feel the deep breath he took due to the most recent notification.

In the background was the faint sound of The Weeknd— you’ve got no idea what song was playing but it was there somewhere, sounding a bit far away. That aside, instead of focusing everywhere all at once, you center your gaze on Choso’s phone and watch his thumb linger over that recent notification.

You had to blink a few times to read it but the most you got from the text there was a ‘Hey, can u call me when u wake up? I wanna talk about last night…’ from someone named… Hori? You’ve got no idea who that is but the message is swiped away and blatantly ignored before you get to think about it any further.

Choso then swipes through the rest of his messages, answering some recent texts from his family members up until one message catches your eye yet again. It was something from his Uncle and the only reason it caught your eye is because your name was mentioned. Allas, before you could read anything past the words ‘Are you still,’ Choso was swiping out of the text thread entirely and you were soon spotting your contact.

Choso, being the total sweetheart he is, has your name happily saved as ‘Idiot #1’. You wouldn’t expect anything more or less from him but reading that made you scoff, which alerts him that you’re awake.

Followed by his realization is his heavily husked tone hitting your ears, “Well, good morning to you too.”

You almost smile at his voice alone. Something about it had your heart twinging in an unusual way and your lips twitching before you shifted your head up to look at him, “Mornin’ Cho.”

Choso’s gaze softens as it meets yours and you catch the way his whole expression and vibe seem to come at peace all at once. “How’d you sleep?” Holy shit the rasp in his voice was making your legs twitch against him ever so slightly, your eyes fleeting elsewhere.

“Fine, I think,” You hum, glancing around his bedroom until you spot the TV, “You?” As you ask that, you’ve located the source of lowly volumed music.

“Better than I have in a while,” Choso sighs as his eyes remain on your face, “How do you feel?”

You turn to him again and tilt your head, “I feel okay but uh, better than you have in a while?” You repeat with a lift of your brow, “Good pussy gave you some good rest, huh?”

He rolls his eyes at that question immediately, “Oh but I’m the ‘cocky bastard’.”

A smile graces your face and you shrug, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah,” Choso replies simply, “I guess you could say that.”

You chuckle at that and let out a little hum, to which he grins at you. Was there something in the air? Because Choso was staring at you like you were the only thing he’s ever cared to lay his eyes upon and you couldn’t get yourself to break away from his gaze for a long moment.

“Cho,” You hush out, watching as his brows lift, “Why’s my name saved as Idiot number one in your phone??”

Annnnd moment ruined.

Choso chuckles, “Cause’ you’re idiot number one, duh.”

“Why the number? Are there more idiots you know?” You muse, smiling slightly at the man.

“Two things; one, if there were, would you be jealous? And two, did you just willingly call yourself an idiot?” Your brown-haired best friend huffs out in jest, intrigued by your questions.

You shrug, “One; no. And two; yes.”

Ah, he’s full-on smiling at you now. Something was definitely in the air because Choso hasn’t felt this banter with you in forever and his heartfelt weird experiencing it again.

Then he’s shaking his head at you, “You’re a dumbass.”

“I have my moments, I suppose,” You hum before slowly moving to sit up. The second you try moving, there’s a throb coming from just about everywhere— more specifically your thighs and back, which causes you to wince and pause in your movements, “Shit.”

Choso’s sitting up along with you and he tips his head to the side, “I asked you how you felt ‘nd you said you were okay.”

You scoff, “I was before I-“

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s reaching over to his nightstand and grabbing something for you. Then he’s handing said unknown items to you and earning a confused glance from your face.

“Ibuprofen for your pain,” Choso explains, handing you one of two pills, “And uh, morning after for your uh-,” He awkwardly clears his throat as he processes a few things in his head, “So you don’t get, y’know… Since I uh-“

“Fucked me full of your cum last night?” You say bluntly, making his entire face heat up.

“Y-Yeah,” Choso stutters as a very prominent shade of red spreads across his face, “Since I did that.”

You smile at how shy he’s being before taking those pills from his hand, raising a brow at the man as you gesture to them, “So, am I supposed to throat these pills raw?”

“I’m sure you could if you wanted to,” He comments casually while reaching over for a water bottle, “But if you need me to stretch your throat out beforehand just say the word and I’ll-“

“Christ, Choso,” You gasp as you slap your free hand over his mouth. He smiles against you and hands you the water bottle he was reaching for. “How do you get shy from the thought of last night but then all bold two seconds later??” You huff before taking your hand off his mouth and grabbing the water bottle.

Choso shrugs, “Cause’ I almost got you pregnant last night,” He says reluctantly, the tips of his ears burning red, “But I can’t get you pregnant if I fuck your throat.”

You roll your eyes at him before taking the given medicine swiftly. Choso’s smile widens a bit and he quietly watches you gulp down the water and two pills, his eyes unknowingly focusing in on your throat for longer than intended. The way you effortlessly swallow-, which should be expected, you’re only drinking water but…

That small little ahh you let out as the bottle is retracted from your lips, the way you managed to cause a slip of water to escape your mouth, followed by an innocent glance in his direction, and then your eyes are on his and his eyes are on your lips and he just-

“You want to?” You ask casually, earning even more of his undivided attention.

“Want to, what?” Choso murmurs with a soft furrow of his brows.

You chuckle and lean closer to him. Then, you lean down a bit so he can look into your eyes and not at your lips, “Fuck my throat.”

Choso swallows thickly as he gazes deep into your eyes, “Right now?”

You scoff, “No, idiot. I’m sore enough everywhere else-“

“What’s one more place?” He cuts off, suddenly all too interested in the mere idea of face fucking you.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, “Choso.” You murmur sternly.

“I’ll be gentle,” He whispers back, slowly reaching for your waist and carefully pulling you closer to him.

And then you’re on top of him all over again, your thighs spread and straddling him comfortably.

You shake your head, “Cho-“

“I promise,” He urges as he leans back and pulls your upper half with him until he’s resting against his headboard and your face is less than an inch away from his, “I’ll ease my cock in, take it nice ‘nd slow with you if that’s what you want, princess.”

Your body heats up at both his words and how gentle he’s already being, “Choso… We like, just woke up.”

He flashes that stupidly sexy but lazy smile at you, “Not a big fan of morning sex?”

“I actually am but,” You pause for a minute. Your eyes just linger on Choso’s and you feel his hands trail down to your hips, then your thighs, and then he’s squeezing slightly.

Choso leans in, “But…?”

“I’m sore,” You whisper.

“You’re sore,” He echoes as if to say it more to himself than to you. With that, he lets off a little nod before slouching back, “Right. Well, can I at least get a kiss?”

“S’that all you want?” You hum while leaning forward and slipping your arms around his neck.

Choso nods again and his eyes greedily drop down to your lips, “Uhuh.”

His hands start sliding up again, as if he just can’t get enough of touching and feeling you. You grin before your lips are slotting into his, his grasp on you tightening all of a sudden. He feels you whine into the kiss and bites back a smile as his hands continue to slip upward.

Choso’s fingertips dance just barely under the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing (his shirt) and you soon feel him hold onto the bare skin of your hips. His hands weren’t exactly rough but they weren’t the softest either. Choso’s skin was an odd mix of both, some areas were more calloused than the others and you could always tell he used his hands quite a bit.

He slides up again with his touch, holding onto your waist before tugging you even closer and kissing you passionately. You hum against him before he starts easing his tongue into your mouth.

And then the kiss is getting hotter and he’s gasping against your lips when you unintentionally rock your hips against him.

Choso pries away and drops down to your neck, planting kiss after kiss and relishing in every sigh you let out. “Thought you were sore?” He hums into your skin.

You smile, “I am,” Then you’re tilting your head to give him better access and his hands are dropping back down to your thighs.

“Where?” Choso asks softly while caressing the top of your thighs and still kissing tenderly at your neck.

“The back of my legs, kinda,” You explain quietly with his hands moving the moment you speak, “And my back-, b-but mainly under my thighs.”

“Mh,” Choso hums and then he’s sliding his fingers underneath your thighs and pressing into your skin, earning a noticeable wince from you. “Here?” He whispers.

You nod and he kisses under your jaw, his hands focusing on those sore areas of yours as he massages them carefully.

This goes on for a while up until your head ends up resting on his shoulder and he massages your legs while you remain seated on top of him. Gasping every time he presses into your skin just right and whining while he soothes your tired muscles, you find your eyes squeezed shut as he touches you.

“Right there, Cho,” You whine, to which he rotates his fingertips against the most recent area he was in.

Choso turns and presses his lips into your neck, “You make this sound so sexual, y’know,” He teases.

You roll your eyes, “It just feels good, a-and I’m not doin’ it on purpose.”

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckles.

Then, the two of you simmer back into that comfortable silence of yours, his hands working your tense skin with care as you remain as still as possible.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Roughly ten minutes go by until you seem to be a lot more relaxed under his touch. The same artist that’s been playing lowly from the TV can still be heard, Double Fantasy by The Weeknd being the song filling the still air of the room.

At some point, Choso decides he can start teasing you again and he moves his lips to your ear, “Where else are you sore, pretty girl?” He whispers way too affectionately.

You quickly pull your head away from him and shoot him a pointed look, “I told you my back…”

He meets that little glare of yours with a smirk, “I really did a number on you, huh?” Choso teases while sliding his hands up to your back and soon pressing his fingers against your spine.

You sigh and your lashes flutter in relief, “Uhuh.”

Your best friend continues to soothe you, skillfully running his hands all up and down your back to relieve the tension. And it felt nice to be cared for like this by him. Usually, if you were sick or ever feeling bad— he’d shrug you off and tell you to thug it out (affectionately).

But now? Choso was the sweetest you’ve ever experienced from him. You wondered how long this would last-

“Choso,” You breathe out, having felt his hand wander off.

“Hm?” He hums innocently.

You almost laugh at the man, “That’s my ass.”

He bites back a laugh of his own, “Yeah, I know. You’re not sore here?” Choso questions while he palms and squeezes at the fat of your ass.

“No, Choso,” You snicker, “You just wanted an excuse to touch my ass.”

“Noooo,” He drags out playfully as his smile begins to mirror yours. You raise a brow at him and he quickly folds, “Okay, maybe. But I dunno, I couldn’t help myself. You’re sittin’ on top of me and lookin’ at me like…”

Your head weighs to the side as you search his eyes for an explanation, “Like what?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know how to describe it but it makes me crave you.”

“C-Crave me?” Your lashes bat in surprise and he nods.

Choso’s naturally sleepy features remain neutral as he peers into your eyes, “Mhm.”

You try to laugh his little statement off, “One night with me and now you’re obsessed?”

“Addicted, maybe.” Choso whispers so faintly you almost miss it.

Almost, “Seriously?” You utter in response.

He swallows, sitting there just staring at you while his hand continues mindlessly squeezing your ass. He has such a mellow expression with you right now. You’ve felt comfort with Choso before but never to this degree. Everything about the way he’s looking at you right now is making your heart feel odd.

“No.” He eventually says in a firm tone.

You scrunch your brows, “Cho-“

“I was joking, shut up.” He cuts off— feeling distant with you all over again.

“No you weren’t,” You refute, scoffing at the man, “You really are addicted to me now, aren’t y-“

He’s cutting you off with another kiss, to which you freeze completely. Your brain simply halts at the feel of his lips on yours again. So soft and gentle with you, like he’s been waiting years to do this and wants to sink into this feeling forever. Hell, maybe he has been waiting for years.

It’s nowhere near the first time he’s ever kissed you but, something about your lips on his makes his mind lose all sensible thoughts for a minute. Which is why both of his hands are dropping to your ass and he’s pulling you impossibly closer to him.

He pushes against you a bit harder and you gasp at how needy his hands are on you. Your lips part against him and he gifts your ass with a smack, earning a faint moan from you.

“Fuck,” Choso sears in between your lips, gripping and grabbing at all of you.

Your chest is pressed tightly against his and because of his tight grip on you, you can’t help the gentle rock of your hips against him.

Seconds, it takes mere seconds for you to feel his cock poking up at your unclothed cunt.

Then Choso’s snatching his lips off of yours and dropping to your neck again, “Don’t stop,” He groans, “Please.”

You moan at the way he shifts one hand to your hips and constantly tugs you against him, grunting hotly into your neck as he feels your bare cunt rub against his cock— one flimsy layer left between the two of you.

“C-Cho, we shouldn’t-,” You’re cut off by him gently lifting his hips against you, a soft gasp escaping you instead.

“Why?” He breathes, moving to grab your ass as you grind against him a bit harder, “We have the whole day to ourselves,” Choso whispers.

You toss your head back and he starts sucking on your neck, careful not to leave a mark. “B-Because… we just, hah, we shouldn’t.”

He scoffs, “Scared of noise complaints?”

“No?”

“Should be,” Choso hums as he bites back a throaty groan from the way he feels you right against his tip. “Shit, did you-, hah, notice what I did to the wall yet?”

Your brows twist up before you turn and catch sight of a rather large hole in the wall, one caused by Choso’s previous roughness with you and the bed knocking into it a little too hard.

“Choso!” You gasp, “How the hell did you-“

“I knew I heard somethin’ last night too,” He chuckles, “I was just too wrapped up in you to care.”

“You-“

“I’m sorry,” Choso breathes out almost finally before reenacting his acts from last night and swiftly flipping the two of you over, pinning you down against his bed and rolling his cock down hard against you.

You gasp, “Oh fuck-, why’re you s-so…”

He tilts his head, the veins decorating his arms flexing, “So what?” He breathes.

“Fuckin’ hard,” You nearly laugh, smiling a bit at the man, “We just woke up not too long ago. H-How do you get turned on so easily?”

Choso chuckles as if to taunt you, “You do know I can feel you right?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not the only one turned on,” He scoffs, leaning down to speak while his lips graze yours, “I can feel how wet you are, idiot.”

You gulp, “I…”

Choso nibbles on your lower lip and tugs for a moment before whispering, “Let’s jus’ make it quick, yeah?”

“Choso.” You utter sternly in protest.

“Promise,” He pants, “I promise it’ll be quick-, maybe I’ll jus’ put the tip in, c’mon.” His hips mash down against yours, causing the outline of his erect cock to push further against you.

You moan, “Mgh, but-“

“I need you,” Choso groans, sounding almost pained, “Jus’ a little bit more of you, please,” He whines.

“Fuck, o-okay, fine-“

And then he’s kissing you again, rutting his clothed cock against you over and over while he messily reaches his hands down to his sweats. Snatching at his drawstring, eager to remove the tiring layer of clothing, Choso’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

You’re such an idiot— giving into your best friend for yet a second time in a row. Were you addicted? Isn’t this wrong? Choso’s your best friend. Your best friend.

He’s just about to pull his sweatpants down before he’s rudely interrupted by the ringing of the apartment doorbell.

You both freeze, panting heavily as if you’ve been caught doing something you had no business doing. Gulping, Choso lets out a long and frustrated groan before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Can we just ignore them?” He asks you.

You giggle, “No, it’s probably one of our neighbors.”

“Oh,” Choso practically smiles at that, “You’re right. They’re probably here to give us an earful about our noise last night. Or well, your noise-“

“Shut up and go answer the door,” You scoff, “I’ll probably be here when you get back.”

“Probably?” Choso questions as he sits up and slides out of his bed.

You shrug, “I might run back to my room while you’re distracted so uh, be quick.”

A wink is sent to the man and he fights the urge to just stare at you in awe. You probably have no idea how you look right now, wearing his shirt, one of the many hickeys he left on you poking out from your collarbone, laying in his bed all tired but horny because of him-

Okay, enough of that for now. Choso shakes himself out of his little reverie and glances around his bedroom floor to spot a different pair of sweats to slip into. He swiftly does so, groaning in discomfort while he turns his back to you and debates on putting a shirt on.

You lay in his bed staring at him, your eyes widening at his back profile and the numerous bright red scratch marks decorating his skin. Damn, did you do that last night?

You almost smile at the sight but in the corner of your eye, for whatever reason, the lyrics to the song from earlier seem to catch your attention. Said song was over by now but the last end of the hook was fading out. Brightly reading the words ‘Even though it’s wrong’.

Now, it’s just a song but you can’t help but find it funny considering you just had sex with Choso last night, and almost again just a few seconds ago. It’s almost like you were forgetting something-

“See what you did t’my back last night?” Choso’s voice tugs you from your mind and you look at him.

Scoffing, “Looks like you were attacked.” You comment teasingly.

Choso tosses the shirt he was considering putting on and shrugs, “Does it?”

“Yeah,” You sigh, laying on your side and watching him glance into his bedroom mirror.

The man turns around briefly to admire the marks left on him and he grins, “Holy shit,” Choso breathes, smiling at the sight, “I looked at it a bit last night but fuck, you clawed at me like crazy.”

“…Did you not feel it while you were fucking me down into the mattress ‘nd telling me to ‘take it’ for like twenty minutes straight?” You ask dryly.

He pretends to think for a long moment and opens his mouth to say something snarky but another ring of the doorbell cuts him off.

“Better go get that,” You hum playfully.

Choso groans, clearly annoyed by the constant interruption before swiftly exiting the room. Entering the hall, passing the living room and the kitchen, and soon approaching the door.

He lets out a yawn as he unlocks the door and soon opens it, “If this is about the noise last night, I jus’ wanna cut this short by sayin’ I’m-, oh,” Choso cuts himself short as he makes eye contact with the person awkwardly standing at the door.

The man in front of him furrows his brows, “I uh-“

Choso interrupts by putting a hand up and glancing back inside the apartment, “Door’s for you!” He shouts back to you. Then, he looks at the person in front of him one more time, sizes him up, and scoffs, “She’ll be out in a sec'.”

The man opens his mouth to reply but Choso rudely slams the door in his face.

Frustrated, and with his mood almost completely ruined, Choso groans again as he makes his way back to his bedroom. As he walks in, he spots you sitting on the edge of his bed looking down at something on the floor before you look back at him over your shoulder.

“What do you mean the door’s for me?” You ask softly, “And uh,” He watches you lean down to pick up a tarnished piece of fabric, “When the hell did you rip my panties?”

“Last night, duh,” Choso huffs out rather sassily before brushing past his bed and heading toward his bathroom.

“You owe me a new pair,” You tell him with a pout on your face.

With no emotion in his voice, “I’ll buy you twenty.” He says curtly before disappearing into his bathroom completely.

You scoff at his sudden attitude and dismissal of your first question, moving to stand on slightly wobbly legs as you extend your arms into the air to stretch. Sighing, you glance around to find your shorts, soon spotting them and slipping into them before exiting the room.

Every step you take, you feel faint soreness but you think the medicine and massage Choso gave you helped your body not to feel too bad. As such, you steadily make your way to the front door— wondering if there’s a package for you or something. You still get the feel you’re forgetting something but between that and Choso’s sudden grumpiness, you just-

Every thought of yours comes to a sudden halt as you swing open the door.

“S-Satoru?” You breathe.

Oh, so that’s what you’d been forgetting. Gojo Satoru, y’know, the guy you’ve been getting along with better than you ever have with any other guy you know, the guy who’s nothing but a gentleman to you, the guy who you were literally dancing with less than twenty-four hours with, the-

Yeah, you get the point. Either way, you’re left staring up at the man with your eyes as wide as ever and your breath caught in the middle of your throat. Staring into Gojo’s kindhearted and dazzling blue eyes, feeling an abrupt rack of guilt lump up in your chest as your mind scrambles for some way to process your situation.

Swallowing thicker than ever, you slowly step out into the hall with him and shut your apartment door behind you, “What uh-, w-why-, what’re you doing here?” You stammer out with the faintest shake in your voice.

Gojo moves to scratch the back of his neck, “If I’m being honest, I’m not too sure myself.”

Blinking in confusion, you tilt your head, “What?”

“I just-,” Gojo sighs, “You didn’t respond at all last night or this morning, so I got a little worried…”

“So… you show up at my apartment?” You question further as you raise a brow at the man.

He winces, “Is that weird-, this, is this weird?” Gojo asks as he gestures to his being here.

Maybe if you weren’t guilty of sleeping with your best friend it wouldn’t be…

“U-Uh, no?” You huff out almost awkwardly, “I just wasn’t expecting you, sorry. My phone died on me last night and I never plugged it up.”

He nods before glancing to the side, “Busy with other things?”

You choke on your own guilt all over again, “I-I’m sorry?”

“Your roommate said somethin’ about a noise complaint,” Gojo recalls simply as he looks at you once more.

Your brows go up, “Did he? Well, that’s probably from whatever he was up to before I got home.”

Gojo tilts his head at you and you feel as though he could see right through you, “Riight…” He hums, “Anyway, I just came over to make sure you were okay.”

“I appreciate that Gojo but what could’ve possibly have happened to me from last night when you dropped me off to this morning?” You point out to the man with a little laugh. Sure, regret and guilt were eating you alive right now but that still doesn't explain Gojo’s sudden appearance, “I live with someone I’ve known for like eight years.”

“I don’t know-, wait, you’ve known him for eight years?” He redirects as he narrows his eyes at you.

“I met him during my freshman year of high school, Satoru,” You chuckle, “He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all?” Gojo blurts out.

You blink, “Huh?”

The man gulps, having not meant to ask that so suddenly, “Like, are you two just best friends?”

“That’s what I just said, yes.” You reply straightforwardly.

“I-“

Quick to snap back at the man for questioning you in an accusing manner, “Aren’t you and Geto just best friends?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs.

“Is that all?” You ask with a smirk.

“Of course-,” He cuts himself off with a scoff, “Okay, I see what you did there.”

“Mhm,” You hum, “So if that’s all then uh,” You slowly begin to motion toward the door behind you.

Gojo reaches a hand out, “Wait, are you free today?”

You pause, “Depends on what for.”

“Me,” He shrugs.

“Am I free for you today?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmmm, I dunno, I gotta check my schedule, Satoru.” You say teasingly as you lean left against the doorframe, “I’m a busy woman, y’know…”

Those pretty rose-tinted lips of his curve into a smirk, “Oh are you now?”

You smile, “Mhmm..”

Gojo takes a little step closer and lifts his shoulders, “Can’t you spare some of your time for your favorite barista?”

“I can consider,” You tell him before eyeing the man up and down, “What did you wanna do with me anyway?”

“Jus’ hang out.” He explains simply.

“That’s all?”

“Mhm.”

Clicking your tongue, “I would but, I was planning on taking a bit of a rain check today.”

“Oh,” Gojo hums, his brows lifting in surprise, “That’s uh-, that’s cool. I mean, yeah, no, that’s-“

“Satoru,” You snort.

He stops himself from making even more of a fool of himself, clearing his throat and meeting your gaze, “Yes?”

Lifting a finger, you gesture him to come closer and he shuffles his feet toward you. Then, you reach up for his shirt and carefully pull him down to you.

“Stop being such a dork,” You sigh with a smile on your face. Then you plant a kiss on his cheek and hug him, “And thank you for coming to check on me.”

Gojo’s body goes still for a moment while you wrap your arms around his neck and push up on your toes to hug him fully. After which, his arms are engulfing your waist and he’s letting out a sigh as he reciprocates your hug.

“Anytime,” He murmurs, his hands caressing your back, “Sorry if I made things weird…”

You chuckle, “You’re fine, Satoru. You jus’ surprised me, that’s all.” You slowly retract from the hug and meet his eyes one last time, “So… I’ll see you Monday morning?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

And with that, the two of you are steady to say your goodbyes to one another— soon parting ways as you watch him leave before disappearing back into your apartment and letting you the heaviest sigh ever.

Silence engulfs you as you stand there at the door for a moment. What are you? Some kinda slut? You literally had sexual interactions with not one, but two men on the same night.

Christ, what the hell got into you last night (aside from Choso)? Now the guilt was really settling in. It hit you earlier when you first laid eyes on Gojo but now that you’ve spoken to him, it’s like you feel even worse.

How could you completely forget him last night? The guy went out of his way to show up the next morning just to make sure you were okay and yet there you were, having just been pulled away from having sex with your best friend for a second time. This was so beyond fucked up-

“Y’know if all else fails,” The sound of your brown-haired best friend speaking tugs you out of your thoughts, “You should really consider acting because that was-“

“Oh my god, Choso,” You instantly let out a long groan, turning around to glance at him standing in the nearby kitchen, “Please shut the hell up.”

He frowns, “What’d I do?”

A sigh of frustration is let out, “Me. You did me, and that’s the problem.”

His face contorts to confusion as your statement hits his ears, “How? It’s not like you’re dating the guy.”

He makes a rather good point there but that doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty about forgetting about him and lying to him. “But I like him.” You argue.

Choso rolls his eyes, “So? What does that-“

“A lot,” You emphasize.

Your best friend cocks his head to the side and crosses his arms, “You like him ‘a lot’ but you let me fuck you last night?”

At that, your breath is caught in your throat, “I…”

He heaves out a really heavy sigh, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t say anything to him.”

You meet his gaze with thankful eyes, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Choso shrugs, “We had sex, who cares. Why would I go out of my way to tell him that?”

“Because you hate me and find joy in my suffering,” You comment jokingly.

He laughs, “I don’t hate you.”

“Debatable,” You argue, “But anyway, thanks.”

Then, you move away from the door and slowly start walking in the direction of your bedroom.

“Mhm,” Choso hums, his eyes following you, “So, are we gonna pick up where we left off or-“

You’re quick to cut him off and not allow yourself to let him have his way with you yet again— you feel shitty enough as is, “Not in the mood anymore, Cho.”

Choso, not fazed by your rejection in the slightest, merely nods, “Another time then?”

The last thing you say to him is a crisp, “No.” Before you disappear into your bedroom and shut your door behind you.

There’s the slightest panging felt in Choso’s heart at the sound of that but he ignores that feeling entirely. ‘No’, you said. He scoffs, yeah right, let’s see how long that lasts…

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themilfsland · 2 months ago

Text

Here we go again | chapter 1

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff X female!reader

Summary: Your best friend convinces you to join a girls’ trip to celebrate your graduation and escape from life’s worries. It seems like the perfect plan — until your past comes back to greet you.

Words count: 2.4k

tags: none

A/n: first chapter, here we go :P

fic menu | chapter 2

The long-awaited new phase of your life has arrived – adulthood after graduation. You imagined so many great possibilities that could happen, but the truth is, you felt lost and afraid. Maybe everyone goes through this, right?

Sure, you were proud of yourself. Over the past few years, you moved to a different country, graduated from a prestigious university, and grew both personally and professionally. Despite all these remarkable achievements, you still didn’t feel good enough.

"The American Dream" might just be a tale for those clinging to hope or perhaps for young dreamers eager to conquer the world. Truth be told, you only wanted one thing—to land your dream job right after graduation. How naive it was to believe that companies would be waiting for you the moment you earned your degree. In reality, it’s you knocking on their doors, almost pleading for a chance—because adulthood isn’t fair.

And here you are, lying on the couch with a tub of ice cream, hoping that this sugar rush will give your body a little more energy. The sound of the TV hums in the background, a sign that something is still playing, but you lost interest in watching it a long time ago.

The sound of a notification on your phone pulled your focus back to the present. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was really worth checking, but deep down, your curiosity gave you the final push. With a sigh, you unlocked the screen.

It was an email. A response from another company you had sent your resume to. Nothing new. Apparently, every company in the world already has enough employees, and there’s no room for you. You let out a heavy sigh of frustration and tossed your phone away on the couch.

Honestly? What am I doing wrong? You asked yourself. Your academic life had always been exemplary—high grades, extra assignments, articles written, everything you could do in college, you did. Maybe you made a mistake from the very beginning. Perhaps your past self never considered the reality of adult life and how difficult it would be to try everything new in a new place.

You felt a tightness in your chest as you thought of home. The fresh air and the sun warming your skin—that was the calm you needed right now. The fresh food and fruits you bought every morning at the market by the sea—you closed your eyes, trying to recall the images of those places in your memory. A nostalgic feeling washed over you, making you forget the difficult experiences you’d had in the past—some of which, to this day, you were sure hadn’t fully healed.

Your eyes were starting to water, and you felt a lump in your throat—almost on the verge of drowning in tears. But you had to push all those overwhelming emotions down in less than five seconds when you heard the apartment door open—Yelena.

"Oh no, there's still a dead body on my couch," she said, dropping her keys on the table and heading toward you.

"It's not just 'your' couch, it's 'our' couch, it's 'our' apartment. I demand more respect," you shot back; she always jokes about this, and you never let it go.

"Okay, okay, it's our apartment, but honestly, you're not in any position to demand anything from me. Look at you, y/n!! You're worse than I am on my bad days." She grabbed the tub of ice cream you were holding. "When was the last time you took a shower?"

"Shut up, Yelena! You saw me go to the bathroom and take a shower this morning before leaving. You're overreacting. Just let me enjoy my life complaints," you tried to grab the tub back, but she held on tighter.

"No. I can't tolerate this anymore," she said in a serious tone, standing up to place the ice cream on the table. "I've given you more than enough time to pull yourself together, and I completely respect that you need time to get your thoughts in order. But now, it's time to start taking the first steps after the defeat." She sat down beside you on the couch.

"So you agree that I failed? It's the end of my career, my defeat," you said, knowing you were exaggerating, but you chose to make a dramatic scene anyway.

"If you keep exaggerating like this, I’m going to give myself the right to exaggerate my actions too, and don't complain when I hit you," she said, flashing a wicked grin.

"Why are you always so aggressive?" you rolled your eyes.

"It’s my love language. And speaking of that, I have plans to make you feel better—it's the best I could come up with," she said with a mischievous smile.

"Should I be afraid to ask what you're plotting?" you crossed your arms and sat in a better position to hear what your friend had to say.

"And should I question why you always doubt my ideas?" she raised an eyebrow and continued, "Anyway, I was thinking we should take a girls' trip together." She flashed you a big smile.

"What???" your words slipped out without thinking.

"Exactly what you heard. Let’s go on a trip, clear our minds, and get some fresh air. And before you start giving me all the reasons not to go, I’ll give you one to convince you—it’s because we deserve it. You just wrapped up a major chapter in your life, and so did I. Come on, it’ll be good for both of us."

Yelena wasn’t wrong, and you knew she was suggesting this with good intentions—not just for some fun, but especially to help you feel better. You rested your head against the back of the couch, your eyes staring at the ceiling. A wave of gratitude washed over you. You were so lucky to have her as your best friend, even though she was crazy most of the time. You still remember finding her number in a university group chat. You were desperate for a place to stay, and she was looking for someone to share the rent—perfect timing. Despite studying different degrees, the two of you became inseparable.

"So...?" you felt her squeeze your arm.

"Hmm, okay, that sounds like an interesting idea. Where would we go?"

"Perfect!!!" she jumped on the couch, excited. "We're going to Greece!!"

"What?? Are you crazy? No way, there are so many other places in the world, why there??" your voice was raised in disbelief.

"I knew you'd react like this, but this time it's your fault. If you hadn't shown me all those beautiful pictures of where you grew up and if you hadn't complained so much about the beaches here in California," she crossed her arms, but you were still in denial about everything she was saying.

"That doesn't make sense, and besides, I never complained that much about the beaches here," you replied, still not fully convinced.

"I never complained about the beaches here," she repeated your words in a mocking tone. "So, I must have been hearing things when you said, 'Ugh, this isn’t real seawater,' or 'The sand isn’t soft and clean,' or 'The breeze here messes up my hair.' Should I keep going?"

"NO!" you shouted loudly and threw a cushion at her. "You're terrible, Yelena." You sat back down at the edge of the couch. "Greece is a nice place, but I wouldn't want to go back there." Your words were sincere this time.

"Hey, I know that, and if you really say the last 'no', then we won’t go there," she adjusted herself, sitting beside you. "But I want you to know that aside from me dreaming of going there, I also think it would do you good." She held your hand, and you both locked eyes. "I’ve heard so many stories about how that place gave you good memories. Maybe it’s exactly what you need right now. A place to feel comfortable—at home."

"I understand, but you know, that place isn’t my home anymore," you gave a small smile, and she understood exactly what you meant.

"I know. You've told me about your mom's passing, your difficult relationship with your dad, and your decision to leave," her look was full of sympathy. "I remember everything you've shared with me, and because of that, I can say you're reluctant for another reason. Am I wrong?"

"What? Of course not!" you replied too quickly, and she noticed.

"Uh-huh, so you know exactly what I'm referring to. Anyway, the past stays in the past, and the future belongs to the future. As for the present, it's up to you now. So, shall we have some fun?"

Yelena was right. As surprising as that might be, this time, you had to agree with her. You'd been a mess lately, with no motivation and no hope for better days. Maybe that's exactly what you need right now—distraction, allowing yourself to live with a bit more fun. After all, you both needed to celebrate your graduation in some way.

"Hmm, okay, I can accept, but with one condition."

"Ugh, you’re so difficult. What’s the condition?"

"We can go to Greece, but under no circumstances are we going to my hometown."

She let out a laugh and stood up, positioning herself in front of you. "You know I'm crazy, but not that crazy. I know my limits." She grabbed your hand and pulled you up. "Come on, we have a suitcase to pack!"

"Now? Wait, Yelena!!" you complained as she started pulling you toward the bedrooms.

"Yes, silly. We’re leaving this weekend!"

"What does that mean?" you made her stop and stared at her. "Wait a minute, this was already all planned! How? How did you know I was going to say yes???"

"I know you," she winked. "By the way, I'm really good at persuasion."

You looked at her in disbelief, your hand reaching for her arm, but she was quicker, darting into the bedroom and dodging your slap. You chased after her, shouting her name.

----

You heard Yelena groan for the tenth time.

"Seriously? Why didn’t they make the streets wider for cars to pass? Or any kind of vehicle? My feet are dying," she let out a tired sigh, panting slightly.

"That would ruin the beauty of the place, and even if the streets were wider, there are too many stairs everywhere," you laughed, amused by your friend's struggle. "And you didn’t want to listen when I told you to bring a small, light suitcase. Now deal with carrying your own choices."

Yelena was about to snap back when she spotted a sign on one of the buildings indicating the hotel’s name. "Finally!!! It’s right there!" she said, pointing and quickening her pace. "Come on, y/n, why are you dragging your feet and slowing us down?!" You both laughed as you followed her.

---

You stepped into the reception area, and the first thing you noticed was how cozy the place felt. It seemed like it had once been a grand residence, now transformed into a hotel. To the right, a staircase led to a slightly elevated floor where the hall lounge was, with armchairs and sofas scattered around. To the left, a large window let in the soft daylight and a gentle breeze through the curtains, revealing a breathtaking view of the sea in the background—so perfect it looked like a painted picture. And straight ahead was the reception desk, where another couple was being attended to.

"Look at this view, wow!" Yelena said, walking toward the window and practically dropping her bags on the floor. "It’s even more perfect than the photos you used to show me."

"Of course, it's even better," you said, playfully bumping your shoulder against hers. "And it's even more amazing when you can feel the breeze against your hair and the sun warming your skin."

"You sound like a silly girl in a romantic movie," she laughed, heading toward the counter to wait for the check-in. You could hear her voice in the background, probably talking about the plans she had for later, but you weren’t focused on her words. You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh—it felt like home.

Then you opened your eyes, and your gaze settled on the person behind the counter—the hotel employee. Her skin seemed to glow where the sunlight touched it, strands of blonde hair like sand falling gently over her shoulder, swaying softly with the breeze. Those greenish eyes, that smile, and that smooth voice— oh no.

"No, no, no," you kept repeating in your head, and for a moment, you probably forgot how to breathe. Your thoughts pulled you straight back to the past.

A new coffee shop had opened. Not only the locals but also the tourists were talking about how great the place was. You had heard that the business belonged to a new family who had just moved in—you wondered why they had chosen this particular place. Probably a business-minded family looking to profit.

Either way, there you were, in line to place your order. You already knew you’d be getting the house’s special coffee—you were curious to find out what made it so special. But when it came to food, you were still torn between the cheesecake and the strawberry pie, both looking absolutely delicious.

You were next in line, and your nerves were starting to get the best of you—why was it so hard to make a decision? Then your eyes landed on the girl behind the counter. Her messy blonde braid, glowing skin and striking green eyes caught your attention. Everything about her was perfect, from her lips to the way she smiled. She was absolutely beautiful.

"Hii, how can I help you?" she said in a soft tone. You snapped out of your thoughts, her gaze now locked onto yours.

"Y/n??? Are you listening to me?" Yelena gave your arm a little squeeze, pulling you back to reality. "I can't believe you didn’t hear a word I said."

But before you could explain yourself or she could give you another lecture, you heard that same soft voice that had lived in your memory.

"Hii, how can I help you?" the girl behind the reception counter now directed her attention to both of you.

You ignored the last words of your friend, turning to face forward. Your gaze met hers—it is her. You had no doubt about it—it's her, right in front of you, it's her—Wanda.

"Oh no, here we go again," the voice of your conscience echoed in your head.

Taglist:

@starrycherie ; @raven-ss

#here we go again fic #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wlw #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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lov3lycosmos · 11 days ago

Text

"𝑹𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓" 𝑨 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 💐⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1

Chapter Genre: this chapter consists of fluff!

Synopsis: You’re a freelance artist struggling to pay bills when your best friend signs you up (without asking) for a new dating app service: Rent-A-Date — where people can 'rent' a pretend lover for weddings, events, holidays, etc. You’re furious... until your first renter is Hongjoong — a charismatic, mischievous guy who hired you to be his fake girlfriend for an important family event.

Wc. 10k

💌: this is the first chapter of my new hongjoong series, this series consists of fluff, smut, and a bit of angst! Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist! (Sorry about the multiple timeskips!)

Series Masterlist 🌷 My Library🌷 (NOT PROOFREAD! LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE ANY HUGE ERRORS)

The worst part wasn’t that you were broke.

The worst part was that you were broke and getting fake-hired as someone’s girlfriend on an app you’d never even signed up for.

Your phone buzzed again on the kitchen counter, the screen lighting up with a notification that might as well have been handwritten by the devil himself.

“Your Rent-A-Date profile is LIVE! Clients are browsing now.”

Brows furrowed, you stepped toward it as though it might explode. Rent-A-what?

It only got worse from there.

On the screen, your face stared back — slightly crooked smile, the subtle remnants of glitter under your eyes from that party last winter, and a caption underneath that made your soul leave your body:

Freelance artist. Introvert with a bold streak. Great with parents. Can fake-laugh at bad jokes.

Underneath: Best friend submitted profile.

You made a strangled noise, your mouth falling open in shock.

“No. Nope. No, no—”

Your fingers flew across the screen, unlocking the app with shaking hands, heart pounding like you were about to be sentenced to death. It was sleek — all pastel pinks and lavender swirls, with soft music playing in the background, like this was some dreamy, magical matchmaking world instead of… whatever hell this was.

Rent-A-Date, the bold bubbly font read. Need a plus one? A pretend partner? Someone to survive a wedding or win your ex’s jealousy? Rent your perfect fake partner today!

You stared blankly at the screen, processing the absurdity of it all.

There were five glowing stars next to your profile — five glowing stars. Had someone actually rated you?

And there, sitting like a neon sign mocking your existence, was a pending request.

Your jaw dropped.

“Pending—? Someone actually booked me?”

And there it was. The job you didn’t ask for, the nightmare you didn’t sign up for:

Client Request: Kim Hongjoong

Event: Cousin’s engagement party (family present)

Dates: Friday–Sunday (includes hotel accommodations, transportation provided)

Role: Girlfriend (must be convincing)

Rate: $1,200 + bonuses for realism and extended stays

Your eye twitched. You couldn’t even form words. Was this a joke?

You hit call, but your heart was already sinking.

The line clicked twice before the bright, chaotic voice of your best friend — the only person in your life you would actively consider murdering — answered.

“Helloooo, newly employed fake girlfriend!”

“You have five seconds to explain before I call the cops.”

“Oh, come on! I did you a favor!” your friend laughed, entirely too pleased with herself. “I saw the app and immediately thought, you know who needs cash and has serious girlfriend material? My best friend.”

“You submitted my face,” you snapped, pacing the length of the kitchen, your mind spinning. “You put my photo and name on a dating-for-hire app without even telling me.”

“Technically, they ask for consent when you log in. Which you did. Yesterday.”

“I thought it was for art commissions!” you barked, incredulous.

Silence.

“Okay, that’s on me,” your friend admitted, sounding far too calm. “But still. It’s a brilliant idea. You need money. And now you’ve got a high-paying gig with a really hot guy. A rich, hot guy. I mean, hello?”

“I don’t want to fake-date anyone’s rich ass,” you hissed, slumping onto the couch and dragging your knees up to your chest. “I want to make rent without being someone’s trophy girlfriend for the weekend.”

“Well, it’s not like you have to actually do anything,” your friend said, almost too cheerfully. “You smile, hold his hand, make his grandma think you’re dating. It’s not illegal. It’s barely even acting.”

“It’s completely humiliating,” you muttered, dragging a hand over your face.

“It’s twelve hundred dollars,” your friend corrected, voice syrupy and teasing. “Plus bonuses. You could buy, like, actual groceries. A new stylus. Coffee that doesn’t taste like burnt tears. That doesn’t sound like humiliation, does it?”

“I hate you.”

“You’ll love me by Sunday,” she promised in a sing-song voice. “You always do.”

You were quiet for a long moment, staring at the booking details again, biting the inside of your cheek like you could physically will the words to vanish from the screen.

Rent-A-Date.

Kim Hongjoong.

Fake girlfriend.

Twelve hundred dollars.

You groaned, dropping your head back against the cushion like you were suddenly too tired for this.

“What’s his deal anyway?” you asked, defeated.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you asked,” your friend said, her voice going all excited and dramatic.

There was a flurry of rapid typing. The next thing you knew, she gasped like she’d discovered the Holy Grail.

“Okay, so… he’s a creative director at a music label — don’t ask me which one, he’s secretive. Really artsy, kind of cocky, but in a flirty way. Think charming menace but, like, the good kind of menace? His Instagram looks like an indie fashion magazine. Anyway, he apparently needs a girlfriend for a big family weekend or his aunt will set him up with someone again. He’s desperate. And picky. But he picked you.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered dryly.

“I saw a picture of him. You’re gonna be mad.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“You do, and it’s mischievous jawlines with too many rings.”

You groaned and collapsed back against the couch, eyes drifting shut for a moment. Mischievous jawlines with too many rings.

Your friend’s voice continued, syrupy sweet. “Just meet him. One coffee date to discuss the job. You don’t have to sign your soul away — just feel it out. You know, for the sake of... potential true love.”

“You already confirmed the request, didn’t you?”

“…I sure did.”

“I actually hate you.”

“Love you too,” she chirped. “Wear something flirty, but not desperate. First impressions matter. Especially with future soulmates.”

She hung up before you could scream.

An hour later, you sat in front of your mirror, glaring at your reflection.

This was not a date. It was a fake job interview for a fake relationship that you didn’t even want.

And yet… you’d changed outfits three times.

You settled on something casual but cute — a dark cardigan over a tank top, jeans with just the right amount of “I’m not trying too hard,” and your favorite boots. Just enough to feel put together. Not enough to look like you cared.

Which you didn’t.

Definitely.

Outside, the sun was just starting to fall behind the buildings as you walked toward the café where the meeting was scheduled. Your hands were cold in your sleeves. A fall breeze rolled down the street, biting but kind of refreshing. You tried not to think about what was waiting on the other side of the glass.

Just coffee. Just business.

Just pretending to be someone’s girlfriend for a weekend.

Totally normal.

The café was warm, a soft, amber glow of lights spilling across the worn wood floors and faded brick walls. Indie music floated lazily through the speakers, mellow tunes with gentle guitar strums and mellow percussion, creating a cozy cocoon around you. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans mixed with the faint sweetness of baked goods. You scanned the room, looking for your supposed "client," half-expecting some unremarkable office-type with a clipboard or a disinterested phone-call kind of guy.

That was, until your eyes locked with his.

A guy in a black beanie, seated by the window, caught your gaze. There was something magnetic about him — the sharpness in his eyes, a hint of mischief in the curve of his lips. His rings caught the light, gleaming as he turned his head to meet you, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

Before you even had a chance to blink, he was standing up. His movement was fluid, confident, the kind of natural grace that only comes with years of practice — like he'd done this a thousand times before.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and effortless, the smirk never fading. "You must be the storm I hired."

Your brows shot up, a mix of surprise and confusion washing over you.

He chuckled at your reaction, not waiting for a reply before he reached out a hand. "Kim Hongjoong. And you must be the reluctant fake girlfriend who didn’t sign up for this."

His gaze didn’t waver as you hesitated, sizing him up. For a moment, all you could do was stare at his hand, his skin warm against yours when you finally took it, shaking it with caution. His grip was firm, steady — not the kind that you’d expect from someone trying to fake their way through a situation.

You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the strange feeling crawling up your spine. The fact that he was already throwing out lines like that had you on edge. You slid into the seat across from him, trying not to think about how annoyingly attractive he was. His jawline was sharp, like it could cut glass, and his earrings sparkled under the dim lighting. His eyes, though — they weren’t just looking at you like he was sizing you up. They were focused. Interested. Like he could see right through the fake smiles and the exterior you’d perfected.

"So," he began, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, fingers playing with the edge of his coffee cup. The soft clink of his rings against the porcelain broke the otherwise quiet space. “How fake are you willing to go?"

You blinked, thrown off by the question. You weren't sure if you should laugh, be offended, or just leave. "Excuse me?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

"I mean," he continued smoothly, his smirk never wavering, "are we just holding hands and laughing at my jokes, or are we doing the whole rom-com experience? You know — fake dates, accidental kisses, spontaneous declarations of love?"

You narrowed your eyes, unsure how to respond. "I don’t… do rom-coms," you said, shaking your head, already regretting the words. This was going to be a disaster, wasn’t it?

He leaned back in his chair, his grin never fading, and shot you a playful shrug. "Shame," he said, almost wistfully, like it was a personal loss. "You’ve definitely got that main character energy."

Your eyes narrowed even further. "Are you always like this?"

"Only with people I pay," he said with a wink, voice dripping with teasing arrogance.

For some reason, you almost fought a smile. Almost. But you couldn’t let him get the satisfaction.

"I’m not kissing you," you said bluntly, letting the words land with as much finality as you could muster.

"Noted." He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. In fact, he just gave you that infuriatingly confident grin. "Unless it’s, you know, absolutely necessary."

"It won’t be," you retorted firmly.

"Still noted," he replied casually, like he’d just made a mental note in a list of things he would absolutely ignore later.

You sighed, sinking back into your chair, arms crossed tightly over your chest, trying to maintain some semblance of control in this situation that was already starting to spin out of your hands. "Why not hire someone who actually wants to do this?" you asked, genuinely curious. Maybe you’d get a straightforward answer.

"I did," he said, his voice smooth, confident, almost mocking. "You just didn’t know it yet."

Your mouth opened, then closed, your mind reeling at the implications. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, unsure how to respond to that. The nerve of this guy. The audacity.

Okay — fine. Maybe he was charming. In an infuriating, smug, weirdly endearing way. The kind of guy who could easily win people over without even trying. The kind of guy who could lie to your face and make you feel like he was telling the truth.

And the thing that made it worse? He didn’t feel fake. Not yet. That was the most dangerous part.

There were few things more awkward than standing in your living room while a man you barely knew scrutinized you, sizing you up like you were a piece of fragile glass. Then, he hit you with the bombshell: “So… how do you feel about PDA?”

Your posture stiffened instinctively, arms folding across your chest, a small, incredulous laugh escaping your lips. “Uh, we haven’t even fake-hugged yet, and you’re already jumping to PDA?”

Hongjoong, unfazed, smiled like he had just asked you the most natural thing in the world. “I just want to know your boundaries. We’ll be around my extended family in Busan for two days. They’re nosy, affectionate, and they love to assume things. If we act like two bricks sitting next to each other, they’ll know something’s up.”

You exhaled sharply, suddenly feeling like the walls of your tiny apartment were closing in around you, like the air itself was thick with an unspoken tension. This was why he had asked you over tonight — “rehearsal,” as he had called it. His idea of preparing you for the whirlwind that was meeting his family, and it felt weirdly intimate, even though it was fake.

“Okay,” you muttered, forcing a smile as you adjusted the hem of your shirt nervously. “Where do we start?”

Hongjoong stepped closer, just a foot away now, but not enough to touch. “Let’s begin with hugs.”

You blinked, staring at him. “You’re serious?”

He tilted his head, expression playful. “What, you think I’m gonna take my fake girlfriend to meet my grandma without at least practicing one solid hello hug?”

He had a point. But it still didn’t make it any less weird.

You sighed and nodded, taking a step back to adjust your posture. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

The first attempt was painfully awkward. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Your arms hovered uncertainly in the air, while Hongjoong stepped in, wrapping his arms around you loosely in what could only be described as a half-hearted attempt. It felt like a third-grade slow dance — stiff and uncomfortable, with no rhythm.

As soon as you pulled away, both of you muttered in unison, “That was horrible.”

And then, you both burst into laughter, the tension breaking for a moment. Hongjoong waved his hand, signaling for a redo.

“Okay, again,” he said, clearly amused. “This time, just… let it happen. Don’t overthink it.”

Easier said than done. You closed your eyes for a brief second, steeling yourself to try again. This time, his arms wrapped around your waist, firmer but not too tight. You cautiously looped your own arms around his shoulders, feeling the heat of his body close to yours. His scent — something warm and woody, with a subtle sweetness — lingered in the air, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

The contact was… not terrible. Not as bad as you had expected, at least.

“Better,” he murmured, voice muffled slightly by your hair, the sound of his words sending a ripple through your chest. You pulled away quickly, feeling an unbidden warmth creep up your neck.

“Yeah. That was… fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

His grin was wide, clearly amused. “You were blushing.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your discomfort. “Shut up.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you flirting with me right now? During boyfriend bootcamp?”

Hongjoong’s eyes danced with playful mischief. “Nope. This is fake affection practice. Totally professional.”

Groaning, you flopped back onto the couch, the pillow beneath you soft and a little too warm. “You’re gonna make this harder, aren’t you?”

He joined you, sitting just close enough that your knees brushed together. “Probably.”

The next module was “how to sit together in public,” or, according to Hongjoong, the “let’s make people believe we’re actually dating” training. He scooted in next to you, close enough that your shoulders were brushing, and his knee bumped against yours.

“This okay?” he asked casually, as if he were asking if you liked the weather.

You hummed noncommittally. The proximity made you feel oddly self-conscious. It wasn’t just the fact that he was close, but the fact that you barely knew him — and now you were supposed to pretend to be a couple? Your body felt stiff under the weight of his presence.

“Should I back off?” he asked, eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort.

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine.”

His lips curled into a soft smile, then he relaxed slightly, slouching a little as if making himself more comfortable. “Now we’re just chilling at a friend’s party,” he continued, his voice smooth. “You’re tired, and I’m rubbing your back or something. What would you do?”

You turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “Rub my back?”

He chuckled at your reaction. “Not like that,” he corrected, laughing again. “Just like… comforting.” He placed his palm gently on your upper back, his thumb lazily making slow circles. “Comfort.”

Okay. You hadn’t expected that. The motion was gentle, deliberate, and for a moment, you almost forgot it was all part of the “practice.” His touch, while casual, sent a small shiver down your spine. It was surprisingly relaxing, the way his thumb glided slowly across the back of your neck. Until you realized how still the room had become, how aware you were of every little movement, every little shift in his hand.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus on anything else but the warmth of his hand. “This is weird.”

“You’re stiff,” he pointed out, his voice light but knowing.

“No, I’m not,” you muttered, trying to stay relaxed.

“You’re sitting like I’ve got a knife to your back,” he teased.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Sorry if I’m not used to strangers petting me.”

His smile softened, gaze growing a little warmer. “We’re not strangers anymore, though. Are we?”

You froze, unsure how to respond. You’d known him for less than a week, but in that time, you’d learned things about him — his family dynamics, his quirks, the things he liked and didn’t like. And now, here he was, sitting on your couch, touching you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“…I guess not,” you said, your voice softer now.

The next lesson came unexpectedly — hand holding. You reached for your water, but before you could take a sip, Hongjoong’s hand slid into yours, his fingers curling around yours without warning.

You froze, looking down at your joined hands. “What are you doing?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Pretending we’re walking down the beach at sunset,” he said smoothly. “You look at me with those big heart eyes, and you say, ‘Oppa, I’ve never felt this way before.’”

You snorted in disbelief, feeling your face flush as you tried to pull your hand away. “You are the worst.”

He just laughed, eyes twinkling. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging. Hold it like you mean it.”

With a sigh, you adjusted your grip, curling your fingers tighter around his. His hand was warm, his skin rough in a way that felt solid and grounded, and his thumb brushed gently against your knuckle. You refused to look at him, focusing instead on the sensation of his hand in yours, trying to push away the feeling of heat rising to your cheeks.

“You’re blushing again,” he commented quietly.

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” you shot back, though the words felt weak compared to the sudden rush of warmth that spread across your skin.

With a soft chuckle, he released your hand, and for a moment, you missed the contact more than you expected.

“I like flustering you,” he said, standing to stretch, his voice low and teasing. “It’s fun.”

You threw a pillow at him. He ducked, laughing all the while.

Later that night, when things had quieted down, Hongjoong’s expression shifted, becoming more serious.

“There’s one more thing we should go over,” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

You were curled on the edge of the couch, sipping tea, trying to ground yourself after the whirlwind of practice you’d just gone through. “What now? Practice baby talk?”

He chuckled at the idea, walking over to sit beside you again. “No. Kissing.”

You nearly choked on your tea. “Excuse me?!”

“Fake kissing,” he clarified quickly, sitting just a little too close again. “We don’t have to. But if someone asks us to kiss — or we get pushed into one — we should know how to handle it.”

Your throat felt dry. “I—I don’t know, Hongjoong…”

“We won’t do it unless you’re okay with it,” he added gently, the serious tone in his voice making you pause. “We can stop the second it feels too much.”

You found yourself looking down at your hands, unsure. The idea of kissing someone for “practice” was a lot harder to swallow than you’d thought. But some part of you was curious. What would it feel like? Would it be as fake as this entire arrangement, or would it be something more?

“…Maybe we just pretend.”

Hongjoong’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Pretend to pretend?” he teased. But there was no push, no pressure in his tone.

He leaned in slowly, eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was soft, lips slightly parted, and for a moment, everything around you fell away. He was close — close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin, smell the same warm scent that seemed to follow him around. His presence was overwhelming, and your heart began to race.

You didn’t move. Not until the last possible second, when panic shot through your chest like a warning bell. You turned your head abruptly, flinching away. “I—I can’t.”

He stopped immediately, pulling back, his expression softening.

“Hey,” he said, his voice calm and understanding. “It’s okay.”

You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, the words “I’m sorry” slipping out before you could stop them. You were embarrassed. More than that, you were overwhelmed by the whole situation.

“Don’t be,” he said gently, his voice quiet. “That’s the whole point of practice, right? We figure out what works and what doesn’t.”

You nodded, feeling the heat in your chest slowly fade. His smile was soft, almost reassuring. “We’ll skip that part. For now.”

His gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long, and in that look, something unspoken passed between you.

You didn’t know what was happening between you two. But you knew one thing for sure — pretending was starting to feel a whole lot more real than you had expected.

Packing for a wedding was already stressful. Packing for a wedding where you had to fake-date your mildly infuriatingly attractive pretend boyfriend? Next level.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, surrounded by piles of rejected outfit combos. Dresses too plain, dresses too tight, shoes too high, shoes too boring — nothing felt right. The pressure of being arm-in-arm with someone as effortlessly cool as Hongjoong made every outfit feel like a potential disaster. He was always so composed, his style sharp and effortless, like he’d been born with a natural flair for making everything he wore look like it came from a high-end magazine. And here you were, tangled in fabric, unsure of how to match his vibe, or worse, how to stand next to him without looking like you didn’t belong.

You weren’t dressing for him, of course. Not really.

Just for the relatives. The photos. The illusion. The act. But no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t matter, your heart still fluttered when his name flashed across your phone. His message read: “Be there in 10 to help pack. Don’t panic.” You couldn’t help it — your chest tightened in that familiar way it always did when you saw his name. The fluttery feeling you’d sworn wasn’t there took hold again, and you found yourself lying down on the bed for a moment, trying to shake it off.

“Professional,” you whispered to yourself. “This is strictly professional.”

You almost believed it. Almost.

Hongjoong showed up exactly ten minutes later, as promised. He stepped into your room, and his gaze immediately swept over the chaotic scene of clothes and half-packed bags scattered across your bed and floor. The way his eyes narrowed slightly, that trademark half-amused, half-exasperated expression on his face, only made him look more... irritatingly perfect.

“Wow,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You really weren’t joking.”

“I hate you,” you muttered, still tangled in a particularly troublesome dress that refused to hang right.

He grinned, taking his time walking over and flopping down on the bed beside you, knocking a few items to the floor in the process. “You love me.”

“Fake love,” you shot back, throwing a crumpled shirt at him in frustration.

“Love is love,” he said nonchalantly, like he had all the time in the world to indulge in this ridiculous charade. He kicked his feet up, completely at ease, as if he weren’t in the middle of your personal chaos. “Alright, what’s the crisis?”

You threw your hands up in frustration, gesturing to the sea of rejected outfits that seemed to mock you. “Nothing fits the vibe. I don’t know how to look like someone you’d date.”

He didn’t respond immediately, the usual teasing grin replaced with a quiet contemplation. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and you couldn’t tell if he was focusing on your clothes or what you’d just said.

“…What does that mean?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected.

You looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes. “You’re just — cool. Sharp. Confident. I don’t look like I belong next to you in photos.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning your face with a seriousness that made your heart beat faster. “Hey,” he said, the usual playfulness gone from his voice. “Don’t say that. You’re beautiful. And anyone would be lucky to be seen next to you.”

The sincerity in his tone stopped you dead in your tracks. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe. You stared at him, trying to find something — anything — to respond with, but your words caught in your throat.

“…You’re just saying that because we’re in character,” you managed to say, your voice quieter than usual.

“No,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I’m saying that as me.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you. It was like a sudden shift in the dynamic, something that caught you off guard and left you feeling exposed, like he’d just taken the mask off and let you see the person behind the act. And you didn’t know how to handle it.

Before you could say anything else, he waved it off, his usual easygoing demeanor slipping back into place. “Alright, let’s get back to the task at hand. What do you want to try next?”

You blinked, unsure of what just happened. But you nodded, forcing yourself to focus on the mission at hand.

You reached for the nearest dress, holding it up for his inspection — a soft, pastel wrap dress with flutter sleeves and a modest neckline. It was pretty, sure, but simple. Maybe too simple. It screamed “safe” more than “stylish.”

Hongjoong tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning the dress before he gave a casual nod. “Cute. Very girl-next-door. I like it.”

You frowned. “Too safe?”

“Depends,” he said, leaning back against the bed. “What do you want to say with your look? ‘Don’t look at me, I’m taken’? Or ‘Yes, he did pull someone this hot, and no, you can’t have me’?”

Your lips curled in a smile despite yourself. “I want to say, ‘This is a lie, but I refuse to look bad doing it.’”

Hongjoong burst out laughing, catching a sweater you had thrown at him without even trying. “In that case, try the black one.”

You narrowed your eyes, already dreading the suggestion. “The tight one?”

“It’s elegant,” he said with a grin. “And it’ll match my suit. Coordination is key, babe.”

You grimaced. “Don’t call me babe.”

“Sorry. Sweetheart?” he offered, giving you a playful wink.

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” you muttered, grabbing the offending dress and heading to the bathroom.

You slipped into the black dress he’d suggested — sleek, off-the-shoulder, hugging your curves in all the right ways without feeling overly revealing. The fabric felt like confidence itself as it skimmed over your body, making you stand a little taller, feel a little stronger. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a long moment, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirl inside you. The dress made you feel like a different version of yourself — the one who didn’t second-guess her choices, the one who knew how to own a room.

You stepped out of the bathroom slowly, your pulse quickening as you saw him lounging on the bed, his phone in hand. But when he looked up and saw you, everything shifted. His eyes moved over you, slowly, deliberately — from your collarbone to the hem of your dress and back up again, as if he was trying to memorize every detail. His expression was unreadable at first, but then something changed. His mouth parted, his posture shifted as he sat up straighter, his eyes locked onto yours.

“…Whoa,” he breathed out, his voice low and surprised.

You swallowed, nervous. “Too much?”

“No,” he said quickly, his tone serious for the first time. “Perfect.”

You couldn’t tell if he was still in character or if this was the real Hongjoong, but the way he was looking at you made your heart race. There was something raw in his gaze, something intense that you hadn’t expected. The air between you thickened, and you couldn’t look away.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for your shoulder to adjust a stray wrinkle in the strap of your dress, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. “You’re gonna make everyone jealous,” he said, his voice a little rougher than before.

You glanced up at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Of me? Or you?”

His lips curled into a slow, teasing smile, but there was something else in his eyes now — something darker. “Both.”

The tension between you two was palpable, and you felt yourself being drawn in, as if his gaze alone had the power to pull you closer. Your heart raced again, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the thrill of the moment or something else entirely.

You turned quickly, pretending to look through your suitcase for shoes to break the heavy silence. “Heels. Somewhere,” you muttered, hoping the sudden change in focus would settle your racing thoughts.

“Want me to help you try them on, Cinderella?” he asked, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You threw a shoe at him, but he dodged it with ease, the same smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth.

An hour later, the room was finally organized. Your suitcase was packed, everything was in its place, and you were standing in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth while Hongjoong stood behind you, effortlessly fixing his hair as if this were just another casual hangout.

You spat into the sink, glancing at him in the mirror. “You’re really comfortable here.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, glancing at his reflection. “You’ve got good lighting.”

“…You ever fake-date someone before?”

He paused, looking at you through the reflection. “Nope.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He met your gaze directly, his eyes softening just a little. “You’re my first.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You couldn’t tell if he was being serious, but the way he said it felt too real, too personal. You didn’t have time to process it, though, because he quickly added, “Don’t worry, though. I’ll be a great fake boyfriend.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You’re kind of annoying.”

He smirked, crossing his arms. “You love it.”

“…Fake love it.”

He turned to face you fully, his playful expression slipping away to be replaced by something quieter, more earnest.

“Listen,” he said, his voice suddenly low and steady. “Just so we’re clear — you get overwhelmed, uncomfortable, need a break — you tell me. I don’t care if we’re mid-toast at the reception. I’ll make an excuse, and we’ll leave.”

You stared at him, the seriousness of his words settling into your chest like a weight you hadn’t expected. That wasn’t playful Hongjoong. That was the real him, the one who cared.

“…Okay,” you said, your voice softening. “Same to you.”

His smile was different this time — softer, more genuine. “We’re a team.”

You nodded, the word settling in your mind. Team. It felt safe. It felt like something you could handle. Even if it didn’t explain why your pulse still spiked every time he looked at you like that.

After what felt like a grueling 14-hour flight, followed by a 25-minute drive that felt even longer, the car finally came to a stop in front of a picturesque two-story house nestled between towering pine trees and neatly manicured white garden walls. The home had a quaint, traditional charm—nothing overly extravagant, but there was a warmth to it, a sense of being well-loved and well-kept. The front yard was immaculate, with smooth stepping stones winding up to a wooden gate that looked like it belonged in some old fairytale. The quiet serenity of the place almost seemed intimidating—like it had its own life, its own pulse.

You shifted in the backseat, your stiff legs protesting after the long flight, and a slight buzz of jet lag making everything feel a little hazy. All you wanted was to collapse into a soft bed and let the world fade away for a while. But as the car slowly rolled to a stop, you forced yourself to sit up straighter, adjusting your coat tighter around your frame, feeling your nerves kick in. This was it—the first time you were about to meet Hongjoong's parents, and your heart was a chaotic mix of excitement and dread.

"You okay?" Hongjoong asked from beside you, his voice carrying a soft concern. His eyes, dark and full of that easy charm you were still getting used to, studied you intently.

You nodded, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. "Just nervous. This is the first 'fake girlfriend meets the parents' I've ever done."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Same here."

You gave him a sideways glance, raising a brow. "You mean to tell me you haven't had a dozen girlfriends fly across the country for you before?"

His grin widened. "Nope. Just one very lucky artist."

You rolled your eyes, but a soft laugh escaped your lips. His playful banter was a welcome distraction, helping to ease the tension in your chest—just a little.

The door opened, and a cool rush of coastal air greeted you, sharp and refreshing. Hongjoong stepped out first, stretching his long frame, his dark hair falling just right, effortlessly messy. He looked at you, an amused glint in his eyes, before offering you his hand. It was warm and steady, his grip reassuring as he helped you out of the car.

You glanced up at the house one last time before following him toward the front door, which had already opened. And there she was—Hongjoong's mom—a whirlwind of energy, a bright smile lighting up her face as she rushed toward him. Her apron was still tied around her waist, her hair clipped back in a messy bun that only added to her effortless charm. She practically tackled Hongjoong into a hug, knocking the air from his lungs, and for a split second, you couldn’t help but smile at how at home he looked in her embrace.

"Joongie!" she squealed, her voice high-pitched but filled with so much love. You stood back, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and slight anxiety.

Hongjoong returned the hug, laughing softly as he ruffled her hair. "Mom!"

Then a taller figure appeared at the door. His father—more reserved, but you could still see the warmth in his eyes. He nodded at you, his greeting short but genuine. "Son."

"Hey, Dad," Hongjoong responded with a quick bow, showing respect, then pulling him into a hug, brief but filled with familiarity.

And then his mom turned to you, her eyes wide with obvious excitement. "You must be the girlfriend! Oh, you’re even prettier than the photos!"

For a second, everything inside you froze. Smile, you reminded yourself. Smile, even though you could feel your heart racing in your chest, your palms suddenly clammy.

You stepped forward, bowing slightly out of respect. "Thank you so much for having me. It’s so nice to meet you both."

Before you could finish your sentence, Hongjoong's mom was pulling you into a hug, her warmth engulfing you in the most welcoming way. "You must be tired, dear! Come in, come in. I made yubu chobap just in case you two were hungry."

You exchanged a quick look with Hongjoong, who gave you a subtle thumbs-up behind his mom's back. You smiled faintly, appreciating the small gesture of support as you followed them inside.

The house was everything you'd expected—warm and inviting, with polished wood floors and soft rugs underfoot. The walls were decorated with family photos—so many memories of a life well-lived. Your eyes caught a few pictures of Hongjoong as a teenager—awkward, yet endearing in his younger years. One photo showed him at graduation, and another had him grinning widely with bleach-blonde hair, looking like he’d just cracked a joke. It was odd, in the most comforting way, to see him like that, so human, so... real.

His mom led you upstairs to a guest room on the second floor. "You two will be staying here," she said with a smile, like she was inviting you to stay for a cup of tea rather than a few days.

You nodded, giving her a grateful smile. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, the weight of everything—the travel, the nerves, the situation—finally hit you. You collapsed onto the bed, face-first into the soft pillows.

"She hugged me," you groaned, voice muffled into the fabric. "Like, full-on hugged me."

Hongjoong laughed, his voice light as he rummaged through his carry-on bag. "That means she likes you."

"I swear, she’s got enough energy to power the whole neighborhood," you muttered, still half-buried in the pillows.

Hongjoong chuckled softly, tossing you your charger before flopping down onto the bed next to you. "You get used to it."

You sat up slowly, running your fingers through your hair. "She thinks we’re really dating," you said, the words feeling surreal as they left your lips. "That’s... wild."

"We are, remember?" Hongjoong said, his voice teasing as he shot you a wink.

You rolled your eyes and, without thinking, grabbed a pillow from the bed and tossed it at him. He caught it easily, grinning all the while.

A few hours later, the house was buzzing with energy. The sound of voices and laughter filtered through the walls, and you could hear the clinking of pots and pans from the kitchen. Family members continued to trickle in, and you could sense the excitement building in the air. Tonight wasn’t just about meeting the parents—it was a pre-ceremony gathering for a wedding, a celebration that was already setting the tone for the days to come.

You stood in front of your suitcase, staring at the dress you’d brought for the occasion—simple, elegant, yet undeniably flattering. The same black dress you’d worn earlier. It felt more real now than it ever had before.

You were mid-way through changing when a knock tapped lightly at your door.

"Yeah?"

"It’s me," Hongjoong’s voice came through, soft but deliberate. "Need help with your zipper?"

You hesitated for a split second. Then, almost instinctively, you replied, "...Yes, actually."

The door opened a second later, and there he was—Hongjoong, looking impossibly good for someone who’d spent the past half-day in airports and airplanes. His white button-down shirt was tucked in neatly, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the strong muscles of his forearms. A simple chain hung from his neck, and he looked every bit the man who had his life together—something you were still trying to figure out.

He stopped when he saw you, his gaze trailing over the way the dress hugged your frame. There was a moment of complete silence—heavy, charged—before he stepped closer, his fingers brushing the zipper of your dress with careful precision.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, his voice low, just for you.

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone. You met his gaze in the mirror, a quiet heat spreading between you.

"Thanks," you murmured, heart skipping a beat. The way his eyes softened when they met yours—it was hard to ignore.

He adjusted the strap of your dress on your shoulder, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your breath hitch slightly. Then he stepped back, clearing his throat, as though trying to push away whatever unspoken tension had settled between you.

"Ready to make our grand entrance?" he asked, his usual easy confidence returning.

You nodded, your nerves creeping back in, but this time, you were a little less scared. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Downstairs, the house was already alive with people. Aunts and uncles chatting, cousins catching up, a sea of familiar faces all eager to meet you. Their laughter and conversation created a comforting hum in the air, but even with all the noise, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being on display. Everyone seemed to want a piece of you, to get to know you, and you did your best to meet their expectations.

You smiled brightly, laughing when necessary, your attention shifting between the various conversations that seemed to pull you in different directions. Hongjoong was by your side most of the time, his hand gently brushing against yours, giving you that reassuring sense of stability in the midst of the chaotic family gathering. You let yourself fall into the rhythm of the event, trying to ignore the nerves that lingered in your chest every time his hand settled lightly on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. His touch was warm, deliberate, like he was always just a step ahead of you, anticipating your every need.

When his mother asked for a photo, you didn’t hesitate, slipping your hand into his as if you had been doing it for years. His mother beamed at the sight, the camera capturing the perfect moment. And even though it was all just part of the act, a little voice in your head couldn’t ignore the way Hongjoong’s smile seemed to reach his eyes when he glanced at you.

As the night wore on, you began to feel the weight of the act you were playing. It was exhausting, and while you weren’t exactly complaining, you couldn’t help but feel like you were pretending to be someone you weren’t. But despite that, something about it felt… right. His presence, his warmth, his charm — it was like you were already part of the family, like you were always meant to be here. The deeper you got into the role, the more your heart thudded in your chest, and it was hard to tell whether it was just nerves or something more.

Eventually, the crowd began to thin out, and the reception shifted into something quieter, more intimate. The music drifted softly in the background, a gentle melody weaving through the air, setting a calm atmosphere. The moment you and Hongjoong found a secluded corner, you let out a sigh of relief, leaning against him as the tension you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto started to dissipate.

"I deserve an award," you muttered, taking the glass of juice he handed you, grateful for the brief respite.

Hongjoong chuckled, his lips curling into a soft smile. "You’re killing it. My uncle already asked if we’re thinking about marriage."

You nearly choked on your drink, eyes wide in surprise. "You didn’t say yes, right?"

His grin widened, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. "I said it’s too early to tell, but I’m hopeful."

You buried your face in your hands, mortified. "Oh my god, Hongjoong."

He chuckled, nudging you gently with his knee. "Relax, you’re doing great."

You peeked at him from behind your fingers, your heart still racing, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. "You’re actually pretty good at this," you admitted quietly.

Hongjoong’s gaze softened as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping into something tender, almost serious. "Maybe it doesn’t have to be fake. Not all of it."

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and for a moment, everything else in the room seemed to blur into the background. His words, so casual but so sincere, struck a chord deep inside you. You looked away, your heart pounding, because that warmth in your chest? It wasn’t fake at all. It was real, undeniable, and it terrified you.

The wedding, which had begun as just a role to play, had already begun to feel like home.

It wasn’t a lavish affair — no towering chandeliers or grandiose displays. Instead, it was simple, elegant, and effortlessly beautiful. The venue had an intimate charm, the soft candlelight casting a golden glow over everything, filling the space with a warmth that made you feel like you were in a dream. The air was thick with the melody of gentle music, the kind that made you want to close your eyes and let the notes wash over you, grounding you in the moment. It wasn’t just the setting, though. It was the people, too. Every single person here felt like a familiar face, like family. Their warmth, their genuine smiles, made it feel less like a wedding and more like a gathering of people who had known each other for a lifetime.

You had come to this wedding thinking you were just playing a part — pretending to be Hongjoong’s girlfriend for the evening. But as you found yourself surrounded by people who embraced you like you were already one of them, the lines between reality and performance began to blur.

As the night wore on and the reception took on a more playful tone, the tension between you and Hongjoong continued to shift. It was subtle at first, a playful glance here, a teasing word there, but you could feel it — that invisible thread that seemed to pull you closer to him, binding you together with every passing minute. And when the music shifted, beckoning the guests to the dance floor, Hongjoong leaned in, his voice low and teasing.

"You sure you don’t want to dance?" he asked, his breath warm against your ear, sending a ripple of excitement through your body. There was something about his proximity, the way he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, that made everything feel heightened.

You shook your head, eyes still fixed on the glass in your hand as you tried to keep your composure. "I told you. I can’t dance."

His smile widened, his amusement clear. "Well, you never know unless you try, right?" His voice dropped, sending a thrill through you. "What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll have a blast. Trust me."

You hesitated, your eyes flicking nervously to the dance floor where other couples swayed effortlessly to the rhythm. The thought of joining them made your stomach flip, and a wave of self-doubt washed over you. What if you embarrassed yourself? What if you couldn’t keep up?

Before you could voice your hesitation, Hongjoong’s voice lowered again, this time just a whisper, the promise of safety laced in his tone. "I promise I’ll protect you from any bad dancing."

There was something in his words, a softness that made the butterflies in your stomach settle into something warmer, more comfortable. It wasn’t just a playful tease; it was a reassurance, a subtle promise that he would be there, grounding you when your nerves threatened to overtake you.

A soft laugh escaped you, your nervous tension easing just slightly. "Fine," you relented, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "But if I trip, I’m blaming you."

Hongjoong laughed, the sound deep and soothing, as he took your hand, leading you toward the dance floor. His touch was light but firm, guiding you through the crowd with ease. The moment you stepped onto the floor, the music slowed, and everything seemed to fall into place. He pulled you close, his hand resting at your waist, his touch gentle but secure, and the world around you seemed to disappear. His heartbeat was steady beneath your palm, and for a moment, you forgot about the crowd, about the nerves, and simply focused on him — on the feel of his body next to yours, his warmth, his presence.

"Relax," he murmured, his thumb brushing softly over the waistband of your dress, sending a shiver of warmth through you. The simple gesture, the way he made you feel grounded, was like a reassurance that you weren’t alone in this. "I’ve got you."

You nodded, focusing on his touch as he guided you through the steps. His movements were fluid, confident, while yours were less sure. But with every step, every shift of his body, you found yourself relaxing more, your nerves melting away under his steady gaze.

"You’re doing great," he whispered into your ear, his words like a balm, soothing the last traces of hesitation that lingered. The praise was soft, genuine, and it made something inside you flutter. His hand on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but smile, the last of your self-doubt slipping away as you moved with him.

As the song came to an end, Hongjoong’s parents erupted into applause, their cheers sincere and filled with pride. "Perfect! You two were wonderful together!" his mother called out, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

Hongjoong shrugged modestly, but his gaze softened as he caught your eye. "Guess we make a good team," he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

The compliment made your heart skip a beat, and before you could respond, his mother teased again. "Well, since you two are already dancing, why not continue? Maybe even show some of the other couples how it’s done!"

His father agreed enthusiastically. "That’s a great idea. Come on, show us your moves!"

Hongjoong laughed, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "I guess we’re stuck here for a little longer."

You smiled, even as your nerves flared up again, but his hand in yours was a steadying force. "Guess so," you replied, trying to mask the nervousness that crept back. But as he led you back into the dance, his touch unwavering, you couldn’t help but feel a little less self-conscious, as though, with him by your side, you could face anything.

The night stretched on, with every glance, every touch, every word exchanged between you and Hongjoong making the connection between you feel more real, more undeniable. And as you stood beside him, listening to the gentle rhythm of the music, you found yourself wondering just how much of this night was real. How much of this feeling between you, this warmth, was something that could last beyond the wedding?

And when Hongjoong suggested a walk, you eagerly agreed, stepping into the cool night air, your hand still firmly in his. The streets of Busan were quiet now, and as you walked side by side, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. All that mattered was the quiet conversation, the softness of his gaze, the way he made you feel like you belonged.

"You did amazing tonight," he murmured, his voice low and sincere, sending a wave of warmth through you.

"I survived," you replied, trying to downplay the emotions swirling inside you, but the warmth in your chest gave you away.

Hongjoong chuckled, his grip tightening slightly around your hand. "You did more than survive. You were amazing."

His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, everything felt a little more real, a little more solid. The evening had brought you closer to him, closer to something that was beginning to feel like it could be something more than just a role.

As the night wore on, you both continued to walk, the quiet streets of Busan stretching out before you, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel alone.

After the wedding festivities had come to a close, the night air felt cool against your skin as you walked back with Hongjoong, his hand casually brushing against yours as you made your way to the car. His parents had bid the two of you a warm farewell, headed off to their hotel room, and now it was just you and Hongjoong, the last leg of the night before you could finally get some rest.

The car ride was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional comment from Hongjoong about how the night had gone. You couldn’t help but feel a small sense of contentment in the back of your mind. The wedding, the dancing, the moments of shared laughter—it had all felt so... right. But now that the night was winding down, there was a new wave of nerves settling in your stomach.

The drive was short, only about 25 minutes from the venue, and soon enough, you arrived at Hongjoong’s family’s house. It was a beautiful, well-maintained home with a cozy feel to it—soft lights glowing from the windows and the faint sound of music still playing in the background from the celebration.

Hongjoong opened the car door for you, offering his hand to help you out. You took it with a soft smile, grateful for his constant care throughout the day. It wasn’t long before the two of you were inside the house, standing in the entryway, with the scent of dinner still lingering in the air.

Hongjoong’s parents were already heading up to their room for the night, leaving the two of you to head up the stairs to the guest room. The tension in the air wasn’t heavy, but you could feel it—it was the same tension you’d been navigating all night, only now it was slightly more intimate, slightly more real.

“Alright,” Hongjoong said, pausing at the door to the guest room. “This is where we’ll sleep.”

You nodded, taking in the soft, elegant room. A queen-sized bed was neatly made, the bedspread smooth and inviting after a long day. There was a couch in the corner with a fluffy throw blanket draped over it, and the soft light from a lamp by the bedside gave the room a calm, warm ambiance.

“Nice,” you murmured, your gaze flitting from the bed to Hongjoong. The thought of sharing a bed with him, even though it was for the sake of the charade, still made your heart skip a beat.

Hongjoong glanced back at you with a smirk, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket. “I’ll let you get changed first,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just… try to be convincing, okay? If my parents come in—”

“I know,” you interrupted, your voice quieter than you intended. “Act like we’re a couple.”

He raised an eyebrow, his teasing smile widening. “Right. We’re pretending to be in love.”

You turned your gaze to the bathroom door, suddenly feeling more self-conscious. The thought of changing into something more comfortable, then lying next to him as though everything was perfectly normal, made you anxious.

“I’ll just… change, then,” you said, and before he could respond, you quickly made your way into the bathroom.

Inside, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You could do this. You had to do this. Just act like it was nothing. Act like everything was completely fine. You quickly changed into a simple set of pajamas—a loose, soft shirt, and comfortable shorts—and tried to calm your racing thoughts. The last thing you wanted was for this to feel awkward.

When you stepped back into the room, Hongjoong had already changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, checking his phone, but as soon as he saw you, he raised his eyes with a slight smile.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice calm, but you could see the subtle way he was studying you.

You nodded, hesitating for just a second before joining him at the edge of the bed. It was a moment of pause, the kind where both of you were trying to figure out the unspoken rules of this situation—how to lie next to each other and still make it look real.

Hongjoong stretched out on the bed, making a show of fluffing the pillows. “You want the right side?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was an underlying playfulness in his voice.

You nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

He shifted so that he was lying on his back, the space between you on the bed feeling almost too large for comfort. You sat on your side, pulling the covers up over yourself, but you didn’t dare turn away from him. Not yet.

The silence stretched between you for a moment, before Hongjoong shifted again, this time moving closer. “You know, it’s funny,” he said, his voice almost contemplative. “I’ve never had to pretend to be in a relationship before.”

You chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. “Well, you’re doing great.”

His eyes glinted mischievously as he slid his arm behind your back, pulling you closer until your shoulders brushed. The touch felt warm and surprisingly comforting, though you were still acutely aware of how close you were, how the bed seemed too small for the both of you.

“I think I can handle it,” he said, his voice low. “We just need to be convincing.”

You shifted awkwardly, then hesitated before settling your head on the pillow. “Right. Convincing.”

Hongjoong let out a soft laugh, his hand gently resting on your waist. It wasn’t a tight grip, but it was firm enough to make your heart flutter. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept his hand there, letting the quiet fill the space between you.

Then, as if to break the silence, he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

You nodded, despite the way your pulse was quickening. “Yeah. Just a little… weird, you know?”

Hongjoong’s hand slid gently up your back, giving you a light squeeze. “I know. But it’ll be fine.”

His reassurance, coupled with the fact that his hand stayed there, grounding you, made the nerves slowly dissipate. The room was quiet again, save for the distant sound of his parents moving around downstairs, settling in for the night. Hongjoong’s breathing was slow and even, his warmth seeping into you as you tried to relax.

And for a moment, it felt easy. Like you could breathe without overthinking everything. But as the minutes ticked by, and the potential of his parents walking in hung in the air, you both shifted, moving closer under the covers, until your bodies were almost flush against each other.

His hand found yours, fingers interlacing naturally. The touch was soft, almost intimate, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized that even though this was all part of the act, the act was starting to feel a little too real.

"Just like this," Hongjoong whispered, his thumb brushing against your hand.

You nodded, biting your lip, trying to hold back the butterflies. “Yeah, just like this.”

And as the night stretched on, you both lay there, the intimacy of the moment hanging between you like a secret. It felt fragile. But with Hongjoong beside you, you couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, just maybe, this act might be something more than either of you had planned.

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