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madamechrissy · 2 months ago

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Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- sexual tension, lots of angst tbh, Gojo finding himself again, but being an ass of a man. Reader has a hard situation (dad has an illness) but nothing too rough! SO MANY feelings, repressed things, pining, longing, say Hi to Nerdjo AGAIN- longer chap this time! (This is a mini series, so expect two more parts maybe hree it's me lol)

Based on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazingg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part Two - Masterlist - Part Four>>

Part Three

“Why do I need to do an interview!? And where are you going!” Samantha demands the next morning, pouting as he is about to drop her off with an ‘interviewer’ aka Satoru paid someone to keep her busy so he can meet you.

He wasn’t with Samantha, but she was psychotically obsessed, the few times he’d let her fuck him had been truly terrifying, she’d licked his entire face last time so he’s firmly avoided her. As pretty as she is, psycho is psycho, and it wasn’t even the kind that made her better in bed, it was the kind where you wondered if you’d make it through the night.

He already set it up with an old acquaintance who just happened to be a fan of hers anyway, now they’re setting up for her and she’s refusing to budge, instead reaching up to grab him around the neck, pouting full lips at him. “Satoru, why do you have to go!?”

“Family things, I know, I know I will miss you too.” He pouts all cute, and she finally sighs, dejectedly letting him leave, Satoru runs out in the cold, hurrying to his still warm little car, beginning to drive the way to your place.

How could he forget it, the endless afternoons once you all had gotten home from school, the way you’d run up your stairs and watch the cartoons that came out - Digimon was his favorite, Sailor Moon was yours. In fact your room had been covered with Sailor moon merchandise, he wonders if it still is. He wonders so much about your life.

The heat warms him as he drives through distant but familiar roads, he had ridden them on his bike so, so many times, quiet streets in a town that hasn’t grown very much. He certainly sees new places and a few more cars than before, but compared to LA it was the middle of nowhere. Winding streets, until he pulls up to your parents’ home.

The nostalgia hits when he steps out of his car, leaving it running so it would be warm enough for you, slowly walking up through the snow crunched grass to your wide front porch. Your house hasn’t changed a bit, the same old brick style, smaller than his but still beautiful in its vintage way, unchanged even amongst the newer styles of homes built.

He knocks hesitantly on the burgundy door, faded paint with time, how many times had he done just this? Being a little kid, being a teen and almost an adult, he’s not sure he really was an adult at eighteen really. Satoru pauses and smirks when you open the door, then falters as he sees your mom, who instead of warmly welcoming him like he expects, pauses just a bit.

“Hey there, been a long time.” He greets her, and she smiles then, sighing and opening the door wider.

“It has been too long, Satoru.” You smile gently at your mom, she remembers even years later the heartbreak of losing him, god no breakup could compare to losing your best friend that night. But you also know she loved him like one of her own, just like Satoru’s mom with you.

“I’m gonna grab some gloves and a hat real quick.” You are so pretty he thinks, in this red sweater and what looks like soft to the touch black pants, boots up to your calves, a jean jacket that looks just like the one he remembers you wearing all the time, and your face is bare aside from a little lip gloss, tempting him to no end.

You’re effortlessly beautiful, but then, you’ve always been.

Satoru feels himself flustered, only you do this, unable to answer you more than a nod. You smile a bit, nervously, running to put on your hat and gloves, listening to your mom as she hugs Satoru tightly. He’s in a dress shirt worth more than your car likely, a black overcoat that could have been pulled from a runway. You suddenly feel hopelessly underdressed, but try to shake it off.

“You’re visiting home?” Your mom asks, and Satoru clears his throat, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I had a show here, but I figured I’d try to catch up with her a bit. I saw her at the family bar, still running that huh?”

“We are, she’s been a big help for us.” You smile at your mother’s sweet words, you never expected to move back home, even if it’s temporary, but to know you’re helping them too is a huge relief. “We aren’t even paying her to work at the bar, she gets tips of course but… even those she helps with bills which we need, since her dad is still recovering.”

Satoru pauses now, looking at you, seeing the emotion hit your face. “He’s sick, what’s wrong?”

“He had um…” You trail off, and your mom blinks a bit. “We can talk about it on the way, you must be so cold.”

“Yeah, I’m not used to this weather, the car is warm though.” You kiss your mom’s cheek, and follow Satoru out to the fancy sports car, so out of place in the working town you live in. He opens your door, surprising you for a moment, and you murmur a thank you, sliding in now.

Warm and cozy, you try to rest your insanely beating heart, it was just coffee with an old friend, it wasn’t more, you can’t sit there and think suddenly you’ll both be close again. You don’t even know who Satoru is, he feels so foreign to you, sliding in and grinning at you now, so handsome with his straight white teeth, for a moment you remember the colored rectangles that used to align them fondly.

“You look really great, I feel a little underdressed.” Your words should stroke his ego, but he blinks a bit, frowning.

“What, you look hot.” You’re flushed now, looking down nervously.

“You’re just really dressed up.”

“I am everywhere, though baby, gotta maintain a good image.” He’s leaned back, arm over your back seat as he looks back to pull out of your driveway, putting the two of you impossibly close in the little confines of the car.

“Well you definitely dress well. Where is that … your girl?”

“She’s not my girl.” He rolls his eyes as he then reaches for his dark shades, throwing them on to drive through the blinding snow.

“She seems great.” He bursts into laughter then, it’s so warming for a moment you feel transfixed, until it eases and he sighs a bit.

“She’s horrible. Beautiful yeah but jesus that girl. Many screws loose.”

“Yeah she seemed interesting.”

“I hooked up with her yeah but-” He pauses now, you’re just fiddling with your sweater nervously. “Anyway, let’s not talk about her.”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

“Your dad, what’s up with that? He got the flu or something?” Satoru turns on the blinker as the two of you stop at the light, and you take a hesitant breath.

“He had cancer.”

Satoru’s heart sinks, hearing the sadness in your voice, even as you cover it up, clearing your throat, and his gaze goes to you, eyes wide. “What!? He’s so young and healthy?”

“He hasn’t been healthy, he got sick after you left. Um, your mom knew, she came over a lot, I thought you’d… know?” Satoru hadn’t asked a word about you, and any time his mom brought you or anything up, he brushed her off. “You didn’t know?”

“If I knew, I’d have…” What would he have done?

It’s quiet as the green light goes, and the snow gently dusts the windshield, as you realize he likely didn’t know. Why did you assume that perhaps Satoru would have kept tabs like you did, that’s just foolish. But you figured as close as you two were, you certainly thought somewhere he wondered, but as you see the shock on his face, it settles a bit.

The truth.

He never even asked about you.

You feel horrible when Satoru was picked on, but you tried everything to make sure it was not that way. You thought he knew how special he was to you, but now it starts sinking in, he truly did leave it all behind. You’re not sure how that feels, you aren’t so conceited that you thought he still - well, ever - felt what he wrote in your yearbook, but you assumed he cared.

“Shit is he going to be okay?” Zoned out for a moment, you’re brought back to the present.

“He is, he’s cancer free officially. But he’s still weak, the chemo…”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He puts a hand on your thigh then, eyes falling to yours when you all slow down on the road. “I’m glad he’s gonna be okay.”

“Thank you, Satoru, so am I.” You gently touch his hand with your own, both gloved, but it feels good and comforting, it feels like something you’ve missed. “Don’t feel bad you didn’t know. I thought maybe your mom would have told you?”

“I… she probably tried.” He looks back at the road then, and his words hurt you more than they should. “I wasn’t interested in what was going on back here aside from her. So I likely cut her off.”

“Oh.” You blink back hot emotion, Satoru feels it, how tense the air is in the car, feels your thigh tense under his touch even, as he focuses on driving.

“You’re helping them because he’s not feeling good yet.”

“Yes, but also, I needed to come back, we got lay offs where I was, and as a new teacher I had no tenuity.”

Fuck you’ve had it rough, even if you don’t perceive it that way, the guilt eats him alive, no matter what he would have liked to think he’d be there for you during that, something happening to your father. He was close to him as well growing up, and he sees the effects it has, but you hearing his dismissal of you probably made it worse.

He couldn’t care about you anymore, not when you were so deeply embedded in his heart and soul, not when he was in love with you since you were both just kids, the only way to not feel you anymore was to shove you deep down. And make you just a small flicker of memories, while he busied himself with fame, parties, events, anything to feel alive, and not the emptiness.

“I asked about you.” Your voice drags him down further, his hand is still resting on your thigh, squeezing just a bit.

This isn’t how he thought it would go.

He thought he’d bust out a few lines of how sexy you are, give you a charming grin and a brush on your cheek, and you’d melt, all women melt for him. But you’re tense, unsure and hurt, and he can’t help but feel it’s all due to him, as badly as he wants to explain it away.

“I know. Mom told me.”

It’s quiet again.

The two friends that teased and laughed and shared everything were just strangers now.

You’re holding it back, the endless questions in your head swirling, wanting to know why you were left behind, you get everyone else, but why you, Shoko, Suguru? Why couldn’t he have made a little exception for his true friends. Was it too painful, the memories?

“We’re here.” He says softly, and you both step out then, awkward in your shuffle towards the door, which he opens, the little bells jingling as warmth filters out of the cozy place.

Soon you’re both seated across from each other, and a familiar waitress bounces over. “Oh it’s little Satoru! Oh goodness, what a treat!”

Satoru sighs, shoving up his shades, he was hoping less people would recognize him, not understanding how much he stood out as a six foot four man with shocking white hair. Well, it’s lavender a bit in places, isn’t it? Or is it silver? You never could figure out its color, nor the exact shade of blue that made up the eyes still hiding behind the dark glass.

“Yeah, just for a couple days.”

“And with her! Oh you two were always the cutest, I thought you’d be together, it was the talk of the cafe.” She’s giggling as she watches your reaction. “She has been coming here once a week when she’s in town, gets your special order.”

“Maisie!” You’re trying to shush her, but Satoru’s already heard, as she covers her mouth. “I just enjoy those pancakes.”

You order his order?

He’s staring at you across from him, taking your jean jacket off, now he’s sure it’s from high school. He sees the little pin he’d gotten you still on it, a little Sailor Mars pin, faded and worn. You smile nervously as he just stares at you then, putting the pieces together slowly.

You still come here.

You wear his pin.

You ask about him.

You fucking cared for him, didn’t you? He thought it was some pity, a sweetheart of a girl who’s stupidly popular, but always made sure to include him. He didn’t think it was more than that, pity or convenience, but now he’s questioning it, the girl he left behind in his small town, the one he forced himself to never think of, when you seemingly kept thinking of him.

“Are you good with that?” He blinks a bit, looking at your lips, ones he’d die to feel for once, struggling to hear what you said.

“Huh?”

“The usual, Satoru, those fluffy pancakes that look like kittens! And a strawberry milkshake, right?” Maisie asks, eyes all hopeful, but Satoru laughs a bit, shaking his head now.

“Yeah no, I can’t have that many carbs. Just an Americano please.” Maisie blinks a bit now, and you shift in your seat. “I have a body to maintain.”

“I’ll have pancakes.” You say then, making Maisie smile. “And a milkshake.”

“On the way!” You sigh as you look at Satoru across the table, leaning back in the bright red booth.

“She was excited to see you, couldn’t you just split some with me?”

“Do you know how much sugar is in a pancake?”

“What happened to the boy who loved sweets? You’ve always been thin, what’s the harm?” Satoru scoffs, shaking his head.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, I guess not.” It’s tense again, as Maisie comes back out, and Satoru looks over at the pancake with two kittens made of whipped cream and berries, two forks and a milkshake with two straws.

“In case you change your mind.” She hands him his coffee with a gentle touch of your shoulder, and Satoru sips it, as you sip your milkshake, leaning forward just so, wrapping your lips around the straw, he nearly chokes on his coffee when you lick your lower lip.

“Yummy.” You say it with a smirk, as if to tempt him into the sugar.

“I bet.”

“I am sure girls you’re used to don’t eat, and don’t get me wrong, I try to be healthy, but a little indulgence doesn’t hurt.” You take a nibble now, sighing and shutting your eyes, doing erratic things to his brain. “We have a lot of memories here.”

“Yeah. I guess we did.” He’s transfixed then, memories making the atmosphere shift, of him giggling, sitting next to you, while you fed him bites, sipping each other’s drinks, Satoru remembers panicking, thinking how it was an indirect kiss. “I was a loser then.”

“What!?” You glare now, fork falling as he sips the hot, dark coffee again.

“I was, what? Gonna act like I wasn’t?”

“You were certainly not. You were smart, sweet, funny…” You feel it now, the hot anger you try to keep buried, as a teacher you’re sweet and patient, you try to see the sides of everything. But you’re so furious at him at that moment, for talking shit about your best friend - him.

“And you’re still sweet.” His words are soft, a quirk of his plump lips now. “Too nice some would say.”

“Well Satoru, I don’t care what people say, and I never have.” You take another bite now, still glaring. “And I won’t let you talk shit about the best friend I had.”

He pauses, snowy lashes lowering, while you chew the bite now, his knees brush yours under the table, spread wide as yours sit between them, brushing just the smallest bit. “The best friend you had?”

“Wasn’t I to you?” Satoru’s eyes lift, the lilting conversations in the room fade away, he sees the tiniest bit of whipped cream on the corner of your mouth then, leaning forward and brushing it away with his thumb. Touching your cheek does more in that moment than the endless nights with women, tilting everything on its axis.

You gasp just a bit, he is pulling it back now, lapping the cream off his thumb, the action making you heat up, pressing your thighs together, heart racing. “It is yummy.”

Jesus christ.

It’s been a long time since you’ve done anything, but there’s no excuse for just what that did to your body, seeing him so casually touch you and lick his finger like that, mind running to things it shouldn’t. You shake that off, feeling the tension weigh even heavier, as you sip on the milkshake again slowly, swallowing before you finally get the courage to ask it.

“Why did you never talk to me again?”

The question hits him hard, what did he think? You'd be so blinded by his good looks, money and fame, that you’d fall? No, you were the girl he remembered, the girl who those things never mattered to, the one yelling at him for being mean to himself, or who he used to be. He leans back a bit, thighs brushing yours once more, hearing the edge to your voice as you study him.

“I didn’t talk to anyone but mom, it wasn’t just-”

“Why me though? I thought we were so close, I…” You’re blinking tears, but you fail, and Satoru’s heart which he thought was good, until this, until the pretty tear glinting off the light ahead. “You were my everything. I… need a moment, I’m sorry.” You go to stand but he grabs your hand then, placing his over yours.

“Don’t go.” His voice belies some of his emotions finally. “I… I had to leave you all behind, that night was a cruel joke in my head, playing over and over.”

You sit back down, swiping at your tears. “I needed just some time to get them out, there were so many of them.”

“But the thing is, they were your people, everyone loved you, and I thought… that I was a ‘pity friend’.”

“A what!?”

“Something cute to tote around, like some fucking… kitten or puppy. Like these stupid kittens.”

“They’re cute, first off. Second off, you were much more. God everything I told you, everything we went through, and you never asked about me?” Satoru’s lips part, you keep your voice low, as others laugh and converse around you all, as the bustling little place that hasn’t changed a bit goes in motion, you’re at a standstill.

“I couldn’t look back.” Satoru’s words are hard for you to handle, he swipes a hand through those locks then, leaning forward. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves at this moment.”

“What?” His hand brushes back your hair, and he smiles a bit, sure he’s charming, but you can’t even believe him.

“Why look on it, I’m here now. I want to catch up.”

“Do you, why when you never did?”

“Because I’m here now, and…”

“Miss me suddenly only when you saw me? Was it because Sukuna asked me out?” He glares right at you now, before relaxing clenched hands, raising a brow.

“Why should that matter? He can’t compete with me.”

“Compete, there’s no competition. You know, Satoru… I liked - no - loved who you were. I loved watching anime with you and going to the arcade, I loved how sweet and free you felt with me.” You’re sniffling, barely able to hold back things you’d hoped you could let go, but the lingering is in your heart. “I loved everything about the boy you were.”

“I…” He’s sputtering, unable to know what to do now. “I’m not him anymore. He was just a-”

“A sweetheart. A good person. There was nothing wrong with him. And I will not let you keep downing him, when I loved who he was.” You’re throwing on your jacket now, Satoru can’t believe the words out of your mouth, words he could never dream would fall, but he knows it too well.

“Loved as a friend?” You laugh without humor, tossing your hair back and pulling it out from under the collar of the denim.

“You never let us find out if there was more.” The words pulsate through him, as panic sets in, but you shake your head, sighing. “I get why you ran, I do, but fuck like you forgot me. It hurt more than any shitty breakup, it meant more than some guy I thought I had puppy love for. We were so close, I…”

He murmurs your name softly, a nickname only he had called you, long ago. “Can you just give me a day with you?”

“I see no reason to keep talking.”

Satoru’s jaw clenches. “Gotta see Sukuna?”

“Yes. I made plans. And since you’re not eating, and I’ve lost my appetite…” He frowns down at the pancakes, swallows the memories, shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, okay, I won’t keep you.” His harsh words and cold gaze make it all shift, and soon you’re back in the car, but this time even the tentative pretense to be friendly was gone. His hand isn’t on your leg, no one is talking at all, and when he pulls up to your home, you pause, as he busies himself looking at his phone.

“Okay…” Your soft words make him pause just a bit. “Satoru I am sorry I unloaded those emotions. I should have just been friendly, I didn’t plan it to go that way.” He eyes you now, sending the text, sighing when your eyes swim once more with shimmering tears.

He wants to hold you.

He wants to hug you.

To bury you against his chest, a longing so real and tangible it’s hard for him to breathe, to not do that. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have asked you to come out.”

The pain sets in, of his casual words. “Oh?”

“You didn’t want to, and you had plans later.” He’s back poking at his phone again. “You need me to walk you?”

Wow.

You say nothing, glaring now, stomping out of the car into the snow and slamming his fancy fucking door, he feels tears form in his own eyes, cursing himself then. He rests his head on the steering wheel, before he sees your gloves, sighing and grabbing them, walking out of the car and shouting your name.

You turn as he runs up, breath foggy, standing now at your step, for once you’re at face level, as he is several steps down from you, your breath quickening when he holds your gloves out. Your chilled fingers touch his as you grab it carefully, looking down at where they’re joined.

“Thanks.” You manage, trying to understand where sweet Satoru was, and why he’s in the body of a jerk model. “Have a good trip.”

Satoru knows he’s fucked it all up as you just turn away, and he watches you walk to your door. You look at him, and he can’t say anything, nothing at all to the girl he still feels in his fucking heart, his soul, a girl who clearly he’s hurt beyond what he knew, and you were still giving him a chance, but he’s fucking it up. He tries to pull it together, stepping up again, until he’s towering over you, an arm on one side of your door, as you press against it.

“Can we just start over?” He asks then, you shift, his presence is too much, the feelings and pressure overwhelming, to where you can’t think of anything but how badly you want to hug him, be held by him, even now.

Was he there anymore?

“I was rude, I know that. I’ll be here a few days, maybe… we can see like a movie, or just you can come over? Anything.” Finally, you feel it, some of who he was, his genuine voice breaking for just a moment.

“Will Samantha be there? She scares me.” He laughs then, his real fucking laugh, so cute as he rests his head lower, cupping your face, thumb brushing on an overheated cheek. “Satoru…”

“You still wear the same body spray.” You get more heated, he feels it, so warm and inviting, is all of you?

“Not everything needs to change.” He sighs now, knowing the double meaning behind it. “Wait, you remember my body spray?”

Fuck yes he did.

It was so sweet and you.

Any time he inhaled something similar, he’d look around wildly, thinking the sweet teacher was in LA - Satoru always knew you’d be one. He should tell you he’s proud you became one, that he’s proud you help your family. That he missed you, he truly did, even when he’s denied it, hidden it. That he’s sorry.

But the words fail, when he’s this close to you, breath tickling your lips, your eyes dart up, as he bends down now, and dies to think of kissing them, of devouring them, kiss every inch of you. But even if he could get with you, where did it lead? Was it selfish to think this way?

He is selfish.

“I’ll come over tomorrow night, we can do dinner and movies.”

“Shit, really?”

“With your mom.”

Fuck.

He sighs as you press him gently back. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” He takes a breath as you walk inside, looking back at him now. “I’ll see you then. Have a horrible fucking date.”

“Really now?” He just sets his jaw.

“Yep really. Hope it sucks.”

You scoff now. “You’re a dick, I swear maybe-”

“No, no shit. Sorry, have a…” Horrible date.

“Can’t even bullshit a fake nice answer?” You ask, stepping inside now, and Satoru chuckles.

“I guess not. Pick you up at six?”

“I can drive.” With that you shut the door, and he palms it for a moment, cursing silently to himself.

God he fucked it up.

Samantha is pouty and all over him as he picks her up, going on and on, when they get ready to hit their actual press junket, but she didn’t need to ever know that. She’s dramatically going on, as Satoru looks at the time, thinking you must be with Sukuna now, the thought making him grip the wheel far, far too tightly.

“Samantha, can you take a xanax dear god.” She gasps now.

“You’re such a dick!”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

*****

As Samantha and Satoru drive and bicker to the press junket, you’re waiting on Sukuna for lunch, peering at the time when he walks into the diner, big grin on his handsome face as he looks at you. You stand up, nervous now, after the emotional strain of Satoru’s date, you’re afraid of what lies ahead for this one.

“Ordered us something, is that cool? I waited a bit.” He puts his hands on your shoulder, leaning down and kissing your cheek then.

“Sorry I’m late, shit, I had a meeting and the guy wouldn’t shut up.” He’s rolling ruby eyes, you laugh a bit, softly.

“I get it. No worries!”

“Sit, sit.” You do just that, across from the tall, broad shouldered man, who is so huge he looks comical in the seat. “Fuck you look pretty.”

“Oh, um… thanks.” You tuck your hair behind your ear, and he chuckles.

“Cute.”

“Am I now?” He nods, leaning his chin on his fist, casually assessing you.

“Very.”

The food comes and the conversation flows, he seems actually interested in your life, asking all sorts of things, shit somehow he heard about your dad now, the town is small and talks a lot. He’s genuine in his concern, in his interest, to the point you start opening up more, laughing with him, asking about his life.

He’s not holding back like Satoru, he’s genuine about the past. “I was a fucking ass to you.”

“Yeah you were.”

“Shit, to everyone.”

“You were such an ass.”

“You could stop me, say I wasn’t so bad.” He leans close over the table, you just laugh then, shaking your head. “Shit, you’re right though. Have I said how good you look?”

“Three times.” You shove playfully at his shoulder, and he takes your hand in his then, making you pause, feeling the rough calluses from years of football, on your tender skin.

“I want to apologize.”

“Tell me this isn’t some death apology tour!”

“No. Just hoped to see you, and I did and… wanted to say I was a dumb little shit. Had you and fucked it up.”

“You needed those college girls.” He sighs, releasing your hand and sipping on his drink then.

“Nothing was like you.”

It’s quiet then, feelings have been going fucking insane all day, to have your ex and your ex best friend suddenly in your life, one avoiding, one apologizing, was difficult to process. Sukuna seems genuine, sweet even despite still being cocky and arrogant, fuck he was… enjoyable. You’re having fun.

“How’d coffee go?” He asks suddenly, as the waiter is grabbing your check.

“God, horrible. Um… I guess I was still upset that he left. But, you had a big part in that, you know.” Your glare makes him fidget a bit, running a hand through pink locks, frowning.

“I know. I was a bully to everyone.”

“If people were nicer, he wouldn’t have left me.” You realize then what you’ve said, looking away and shaking your head. “I’m sorry. That’s mean. I’m being a whole bitch today.”

“You are the furthest thing from a bitch. You should be mad at me, and mad he left you like that, shit you all were stupidly close.”

“Yeah. But still, we were young, so young. I don’t resent you.” Your hand comes over his now, thumb hitting the cool metal of his watch, his breath catches a bit. “I appreciate your apology.”

"Oh thank god.” He’s exhaling in relief, as you giggle.

“Sukuna is scared of something?”

“Saying sorry is like puking, yuck.” You laugh louder then, covering your face just a bit, as he grins at you. “I’m trying, okay?”

“You are.”

“I’d apologize to Satoru if he wasn’t such a punchable asshole.”

“Oh! You made him that way.”

“Apology tour unconcluded.” His grumble just brings you more joy, and he smirks as he studies you, a hand touching your knee under the table, making you heat up a bit. “Can I see you again before I leave?”

You nod then, smiling. “I’d like that.”

*****

Satoru got rid of Samantha, for a bit at least.

The next afternoon he and her had just come back from one of the first walks, he was exhausted and thirsty, pricks in his skin from outfits being pinned up in places, his lips fucking hurt from that look he always had to pull. Satoru had his own ‘blue steel’ that always made the women in the audience wet, and probably everyone horny if he was being completely honest.

But, it takes a toll.

Samantha is especially whiny after they get to Satoru’s mom’s home, and he is trying to think of ways to get her away, since you’re coming over in an hour. He wants real time with you. He wants to show he’s not this… who is he, really? The attention didn’t hit what it usually did, fuck nothing hit well when your teary eyes were burned in his brain.

“My feet hurt! It’s cold. I’m tired!” Samantha is whining and whining that night, when Satoru finally gets a notification.

A hotel room.

He grins now.

Fuck yes.

“Samantha, look baby, a suite!” He cooes to her, and she lights up when she sees it.

“Oh it actually looks nice, especially after this town.”

“It’s perfect, I’ll take you tonight.”

“But, aren’t you staying?” She’s frowning, touching his chest, then lower, until she grips his dick, and his eyes damn near bug out. “Little Gojo, tell him!”

“Dear god, ow.” She’s got a hell of a grip, he struggles to disentangle his cock from her brutal grip, wincing. “I have to spend a little time here, with my mom-”

“Bullshit, it’s the townie with the nice ass.” She glares, pushing him onto his bed then, and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “We can bring her in, threesome time. Purr.”

“Stop purring, fuck. No.” He grabs her hips now, yanking her off him, curious how to play this so she will listen, cupping her face now, putting on that smile. “You need beauty rest, you’re just not getting it here.”

“Ugh, true.”

“And there’s a spa there.”

“A spa!?”

“Mmhmm, I’ll pick you up for the next show in the morning, mmkay?” She giggles, kissing up his face until she tries to shove her tongue in his mouth, fuck he supposes he used to not mind, but he hates it, shoving her back. “We’ll miss the suite if we don’t go now!”

Thank god he got rid of her.

His mother also seems relieved, though she’s too sweet to say it out loud, already putting in orders. “Pizza for you two, right? And the cinnamon sticks, it’s what I always ordered. Pepperoni, extra icing-”

“Mom, so many…” He pauses then, remembering how you all were.

Happy.

Carefree.

Nibbling on those cinnamon sticks, you’d dab icing on his nose and giggle so fucking cute, god he would die to see you smile again.

“That sounds good, thank you mom. Any… shit, advice?” His mom starts tearing up now, and Satoru frowns. “Mom?”

“My baby wants advice!” He ends up hugging her, sighing now, god he missed being home, he thought he would hate it, but he doesn’t really. He misses you and her. So much.

Last night had been spent going through it over and over, every single way he’d fucked up, then thoughts of you and Sukuna. Was it a good date? Would your feelings come back? Would he have a chance? And the biggest question, could there be any type of future if you actually did let him have it? What was that like for you two?

He doesn’t know where it will go, but he knows one thing, he never wants to make you cry again, and he has to try anything. “Advice for what, my love?” His mom’s words are soft and sweet, Satoru rubs the back of his neck now, sighing.

“How to be… myself again.” His mom is full sobs now, he has to hold her narrow, shaky form, feeling awful then. “I’m still a model. I’m rich. I’m… famous.”

“You are, and I’m so proud. But I’ve never been prouder than now.”

“Mom, shh. I just wanna try to be who she remembers, a little. Is he still here?” She holds a hand to his chest, nodding.

“He’s here. And all over your room. Find some special things, maybe your favorite movie, a favorite song? Your sweater.”

Satoru scoffs. “That ugly thing!”

“Mmm, it’s a thought. It’s almost six, so get ready.”

Shit.

Satoru runs up the stairs, to his room trapped in time, fingers running across the ugly ass nerdy sweater, folded right over one of his polos. He frowns, staring in the mirror, still in his dress shirt loosely unbuttoned and black slacks, then back at the sweater you got him.

“Fuck it.” He goes to the old cd player now, hitting track number one, your favorite song, the one he was singing the night everything changed, the night he practiced in the mirror kissing. He was a loser then, even if you won’t admit it, but if you want it? He’d do anything.

Just for a chance to make you happy. After being horrible, selfish, cold, he lay in bed all night tossing and turning, thinking of your words.

If you just gave me time.

Time, he didn’t give you time.

Satoru slips on the ugly polo and argyle sweater, before he leans over, picking up the old glasses, then putting them down. He takes out his contacts now, sighing as he puts them on, looking in the mirror, shaking his head. The sweater is small against his buffer frame, the glasses look ridiculous on his chiseled frame, then glares at his retainer.

He still wears one a few nights a week, but…

The Lucemon, huh?

“Gonna go full nerd mode.” He laughs at himself, shaking his head and slicking his hair up, like it was then, with pomade. He cleans the shit out of the retainer then, leaning over the bathroom mirror and snapping it in. “God.”

He looks…

“Satoru!” Your voice makes him pause, as he runs out, and you see him then, pausing at the doorway, plates of pizza in one hand, a bottle of wine tucked in your arm. Your mouth drops, eyes blinking rapidly. “Satoru?”

“I know.” He grumbles, and you hear it then, one of your favorite songs, eyeing his room, realizing it hasn’t changed a bit. “Here.”

You let him gently take the bottle from your arm, setting it on his side table, then taking the pizza gently, as your lip trembles, and you look at him, fuck you stare at him. Is it him!? Is he… is Satoru here? Is it some ruse to make fun of himself, or is it something real, tangible?

He pulls you against him, hugging you so tightly, and you cling to him then, his soft sweater against your cheek now, while he rocks gently side to side, letting you cry, just holding you. Like he used to. He feels so good you sink into him, crying more, his mom walks up, seeing you two, Satoru looks at her behind his glasses, as she sets down the cinnamon sticks and the movie.

She smiles, teary eyed, shutting the door then, making you jump a bit, looking behind you. “Oh god you must think I’m a mess!”

“I don’t.” His hoarse voice, so raspy and deep, sends trembles through you when he eyes you, magnified blue eyes behind thick lenses, and your hand slips up that soft sweater. “I was a dick.”

“Oh, Satoru…”

“I was. And you should be mad, you shouldn’t even come see me. But that’s what I love about you, how kind you always were.” He wants to say more, but for now just that has him overwhelmed. “I got into nerd mode.”

You’re laughing as you swipe your tears, and he can’t help but smile. “Nerd mode!”

“Nerd mode activated. Look.” He opens his mouth, earning further giggles.

“Oh my god! Satoru, it’s the retainer!”

“Mmhmm. I guess I still look hot, huh?” He winks now, and you nod eagerly, grinning now.

“Hot. So hot now.” He rolls his eyes, hugging you once more, leaning back, his lips a breath from yours, and your eyes drift to them, as your heart pounds. “All this for me?”

“The least I can do after…” He still can’t say it.

He was wrong to have left you.

“Your room oh my god, the memories!” You leave his embrace, running up to look at all of his photos, touching your chest then, feeling the warmth in your heart, as Satoru stands behind you, hard body warm behind you. “It’s all me and you.”

“That’s all I needed.” He touches one gently, a hand on your waist as he studies the photo, it was your eighteenth birthday, right before he’d left.

“We look so fucking happy.” Your words almost break him then, when you look back up at him, hair brushing against his soft sweater, he can inhale that shampoo, your vanilla scent, mixing with the cinnamon and pizza in his childhood room.

Every memory is back.

They’re all of you.

“Thank you for coming tonight. I promise, I’m fine being a friend, even though I was so shitty for so long.” You shake your head then, and his proximity makes you question everything.

“You were just… traumatized. I never was angry, just hurt.”

“That’s worse.” Satoru cups your chin, and both of you know, friendship is different than whatever tingles and shocks run through your bodies in that moment, as he watches you behind those frames. “The next couple days, I’d love to try to… get to know you.”

“And get to know yourself?” He nods, when you turn your head back to your photos, and lean back, so that you’re fully against him. He gulps back the hot desire, a hand splaying your tummy, feeling your frame in his arms, dying to never let go.

He shouldn’t have left you.

God he was a fool.

Even after it all, he feels it, your affection, your care, while you delicately touch another polaroid of you two, this one right before graduation. The sadness fills you both slowly. “Um, where’s…”

“She’s got a suite.”

“Oh.”

“Did your lunch date suck?”

“You’re still a dick.” He’s laughing softly, and you bounce off him now, rushing to the dvd, grinning as his eyes light up.

“Not the Holy Grail!”

“Always the Holy Grail. God, I can still recite it all.” You rush now, seeing his playstation and smiling. “This still work?”

“Dusty but yes.” He slides it open, when you both lean down to blow, and he smacks into your head. “Shit!”

“Ow!” He touches a growing bump on yours tenderly, cool thumb feeling relieving. “Sorry.”

“No, I got clumsy, the nerd gear.” He’s smiling watching you laugh again, leaning back over to gently blow, so goddamn beautiful he can’t stand it, especially with your pretty grin.

“The date was good.”

“Date, hmm.” He frowns now, jealousy eating at him. “Did you…”

“Kiss? Would you care?” You ask softly, not meeting his eyes, as you place the disc inside, and grant he remote, turning on his thin black tv, while he curses just a bit. He wants to be cocky, arrogant, conceited. Say no, he wouldn’t care.

But…

He needs to be him again.

“Yeah. I would.” You pause once more, in the quiet room, just the ticking clock and the fan whirling overhead the only sounds, along with your heart thrumming in your ears. “But I get it, if so.”

“We didn’t.” He exhales too much in relief, thank God you don’t see, fiddling with the tv, when Satoru starts getting everything on the floor, and pats it, letting you sit on the soft carpet next to him.

You’re just wearing sweats and a comfy shirt, and you look sexier than any model he saw today, casual, sweet and looking like you just showered. Hair fucking shimmering, skin glowy and dewy, a smile not leaving your lips, especially when you watch him bite the cheesy, gooey pizza, a string of mozzarella that he laps up.

“What?” He asks, wiping his grease from the pizza off his chin.

“Nothing, just… carbs huh.”

He snorts now, rolling his eyes, and leaning closer to you, so close you feel his toned, strong arm against you, feeling so good. “I’ll eat carbs on vacation I guess.”

“It’s on, it’s on!” You’re nibbling a cinnamon stick, a little sugar on your lip he’s dying to lick off.

It is I, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot.

The movie starts, and he realizes you still know the shit word by word, and have no problem acting them out physically either. He’s laughing so hard his cheeks hurt, his tummy hurts, so full of pizza now, and you are popping open the wine as you carry on your quotes.

“Holy fuck, I didn’t know then.” He says softly, when you hand him a glass, and breathlessly sit next to him.

“Know what, Satoru?”

“You’re… a nerd.”

“Hey!” You nudge him, laughing again, sighing suddenly as both of your laughter dies down, and you’re sipping that glass, leaving a pretty, perfect lip print. “I was always nerdy, just… people were cool with it.”

“You were always you.” He brushes his fingers across your cheek, as you see your flushed reflection in his glasses, and he drops his fingers. “I’m sorry for yesterday, I was…”

“A jerk.”

“That.”

You touch his face now, brushing along a jawline that’s just sharpened impossibly, studying the beautiful super model in his old room, in his old clothes. Everything that you’ve missed for so long feels real, tangible, and you don’t know how long this will last, this beautiful feeling. Is it fleeting?

“When do you return?” You ask softly.

“Two days.”

Your heart sinks a bit, but you nod quietly. “I’ll miss you when you go again.”

“Why would you miss me? After…”

“You’ll always be my Toru.” Satoru sips his own drink, gulping down the heavy feelings with it, you all are closer now, so close. His arm wrapped around your waist, you’re almost in his fucking lap. He’s nuzzling your neck and inhaling you, hand slipping up higher, thumb brushing the side of your breasts through your soft fleece, but even then he sees it, your nipples pressed up.

“I missed you too.” His admission shocks you, your eyes meet and lock, the very air crackling between you both, as you lean closer, hand gripping the stem of your glass, as he’s so close, too close. “You shouldn’t even let me close.”

“No?”

“No, not when all I can think of is tasting every inch of you.” His words shock you then, sexy and bold, and terrifying.

You’re so close to kissing him.

But if you do, what does it mean? A fleeting affair? Could you handle the pain of him going back to his world if you let him in? Could you lose him again?

“I missed this.” He’s just looking at you, as the badly dressed knights are fighting, and you want to believe him, fuck you do…

But you’re scared.

“You look like you did that night.” Your words make him smile a bit, leaning even closer, until his eyes are lidded, and his lips are parted, drinking in your gasp when he inhales.

“That’s because that night I had a plan. One I really fucked up.”

“What plan?” Your whisper sends your sweet, wine kissed breath into his, and he’s shaking with how badly he needs you, how badly he hurts for what he’s done, how much he wishes he could have changed that night, changed it all.

Was this finally his chance?

“Let me… show you.”

Mmmkay the drama isn't over, but he's learning a bit. I know he's an ASS but he's traumatized and we can fix him - I think

taglist 1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #nerdjo #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo fluff #satoru smut #divider by cafekitsune

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swytdoll · 4 months ago

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(19)virgin!choso has the hots for his older neighbor(35):(

perverted. that’s how he felt as he watched you wash your car, in shorts so tiny they were practically underwear and a white tank top that was so soaked it was see through. the way the fabric clung to your breasts made his mouth water. he had been staring for at least 30 minutes and had gotten to see them from all angles. it was torture, sweet torture. he wanted to take you right then and there in the grass and hear his name on your lips over and over.

you were old enough to be his mom. in fact, he had had you as a teacher back when he was in high school and that made him feel guilty for looking at you like this. but he just couldn't stop. he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about being with an older woman, one that knew what she was doing and knew how to use him. you would make him feel like your toy and he wanted that.

you looked up and caught his eyes. he blushed bright red and quickly turned away. maybe if he had kept looking he would have noticed the smirk on your lips.

you were a teacher in more ways than one. you could teach him how to be a good boy and give you the pleasure you deserved. he wanted to sink into the ground when you began to approach him. you were smiling sweetly, but your eyes said something different.

you leaned against the fence separating your property and his, propping up one of your arms on it. you gave him a soft grin and he wanted to die. you’re so pretty to him. glowing eyes framed with thick wispy lashes, pretty plump lips. he can't look away, mesmerized, he watches the way your lips part and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet them. the sight makes his blood run hot and his shorts grow tighter.

"hello mister kamo," you hummed, "where are your parents?"

"i-i'm sorry i-" had he been caught? were you gonna tell on him?

"what's the matter? are you nervous?" you cooed, "i just wanted to say hi to your mom, see if she needed anything for the barbecue later. is she around?"

"she's- um- out. getting groceries," he replied quietly, not daring to meet your eyes.

"oh? and what about your father?"

"he's...working late," choso said. he was sweating and the bulge in his shorts was now painfully obvious. he wanted to die, to disappear from embarrassment. you smiled and let out a giggle.

"are you okay mister kamo? you seem awfully nervous." you’re batting those lashes and he swears he could melt, he clears his throat. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine, totally fine!" he blurted out, "i'll- uh- tell them you said hi."

"okay," you quipped sweetly and began to walk back to your house, "if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

he nodded, "okay."

his head was spinning and he couldn't think straight. he didn't want to be alone, didn't want to go inside, didn't want to leave and miss seeing you again. he could still smell the strawberry of your shampoo from where he was. it was intoxicating.

"choso," you called out and he snapped out of his daze.

"yes, miss?"

"can you come help me? i dropped my hose and it's really hard to pick up."

"o-okay."

you lead him around the side of your house and he saw the hose was indeed on the ground, the water running. his hands were shaking, but he bent down and picked it up anyway. the moment he stood, you grabbed his hand and placed it right on your chest. he squeaked and tried to pull away, but you held him tight.

"you can touch me," you hummed, "i don't mind. is that why you were watching me? do you like older women?"

"i- uh- well- you- you're-"

"use your words, choso," you chastised him and moved his hand lower, making him rub his fingers over your nipple, "good boys speak when spoken to. did i ever teach you that?"

"y-yes," he whined and his hips bucked into the air. you gave him a wicked smile and pushed him to the ground. he landed on his back, legs sprawled out. his cock was standing up, pressing against his shorts and there was a dark stain where his tip was.

"such a cute little thing," you giggled and knelt down in front of him. you grabbed his legs and pulled them apart before getting between them. he squirmed and you grabbed his hands, pinning them to the ground.

"please," he whimpered.

"please what? be a good boy and tell me what you want," you cooed, pressing his hands into the ground.

"i- um- please...touch me," he whispered.

"like this?" you hummed and reached down to rub his clothed erection. he bucked his hips into your hand and moaned.

"yes, please, miss," he gasped.

"good boy," you purred and kissed him, he was putty. "so good for me."

your hands moved to his hips and he lifted them so you could pull his shorts down. his cock was already leaking and twitching.

"you poor thing, did you get this hard just from looking at me?"

"y-yes, miss," he moaned, "i couldn't stop thinking about you, how pretty you were and how much i wanted you."

"oh, you're such a good boy, telling me exactly what you want," you cooed and gripped his cock, stroking it slowly, "i should give you a reward, hm?"

"please, please, please," he whined, his hips twitching up.

"okay," you replied and leaned forward. you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, smearing the pre-cum on your lips before wrapping them around him. his back arched and he let out a loud moan. he couldn’t believe this, anyone could see him and you. his parents could walk past the fence and catch you sucking off their son. but that was part of the fun. it was forbidden and he loved that.

the sounds of your gurgled chokes as you slurp his cock are like a siren's song to him, the way you so dutifully suckle him to the base and take his entire length in your mouth without a trace of resistance. your jaw is slack as he slides between your lips, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, urging you forward until your nose is pressed into his belly. he's so big that even though your eyes are rolled back, your vision is obscured by the sheer size of his erection. your throat feels like a fleshy sheath for him, your breath forced out in tiny, rapid huffs through your nostrils, and your tongue is pinned.

and you're not just sucking his cock, either. you're swallowing. and every time your esophagus clenches down around the head of his dick, it sends him hurtling closer and closer towards an orgasm that he's determined to wring out of you first. he can feel you starting to struggle for air, but the way you're still obediently sucking his cock even while your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen.

“god," he rumbles, his voice like the sound of boulders shifting together. his grip on the back of your head tightens, and he grinds against your face, your nose and lips mashed up against his skin.

your stomach growls and churns in a desperate plea for nourishment, but the way he fills your throat is a completely different hunger. you can taste his pre-cum, his magic thick and warm and tingling on your tongue, and you suck and swallow with more enthusiasm. even though you're struggling to breathe, the idea of drinking his cum makes you feel like a starving woman given the key to a buffet.

"j-just like that," he praises you, his words coming out in a hiss as you clench down on him, your throat tightening in a futile attempt to keep his cock from pushing so deep into your airway. he whines when you withdraw, a string of saliva connecting you two.

"you taste so good, choso," you murmured, "have you had many girls do this to you?"

"n-no, miss, never," he groaned, "only you."

"and do you want only me to do this to you? do you want me to be the only one that knows how good you taste and how cute you sound?"

"yes! yes, miss! i want it to be only you, please," he babbled. you smirked and kissed his hip.

"well then, i better take good care of my boy, huh?"

"please, please," he whined, pushing his hips toward you.

"okay, i'll make you feel really good, sweetie."

you took his cock back into your mouth, licking at the tip and stroking the rest. his head was spinning and he could hardly breathe. you felt too good, looked too good, sounded too good. your soft lips wrapped around him, sucking and licking, teasing and pleasing. it was too much and yet not enough. his body was on fire, burning and aching.

his knees buckle as your warm hand palms his balls and your tongue traces the veins of his cock. he lets out a whine and grips your hair. you pull off his dick, letting it fall against his stomach. you press a few soft kisses to his tip, watching as his cock twitches.

"miss," he whimpered, "it hurts, please."

"what does, sweetheart?" you asked.

"please, let me cum, miss," he begged.

"already? did i make you that horny?"

"please, miss," he whined and bucked his hips.

"alright," you hummed, taking him back into your mouth.

"thank you," he breathed.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could. his fingers tightened in your hair and he bucked his hips. your nose pressed against his pelvis and your throat clenched around him.

"i'm close," he moaned, "i can't, fuck, it's so good."

a few more thrusts, and his movements become erratic. you're dizzy from oxygen deprivation, the edges of your vision growing dark, when suddenly his cock twitches inside you, and his hot, sticky cum fills your stomach. there's so much of it that you're actually able to feel yourself swell a little with the volume of his release, and the sensation makes you whimper and whine.

"you did so well," you cooed, crawling up and laying next to him, "was that your first time?"

"yeah. . . s-sorry i finished so quick." he mumbled, cheeks tinted brightly.

"you did so good," you repeated, pressing a kiss to his temple, he felt like he was going to pass out.

“i’ll see you tonight at the barbecue, yeah?”

he nods, fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him.

*peeps around corner* dare i say part 2?

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fioiswriting · 1 year ago

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Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.

Everything he wasn't.

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable.

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

***

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.

As if to unveil what he held within himself.

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.

An unpleasant heat.

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.

Jace almost choked.

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand.

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this.

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

***

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure.

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling.

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace.

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

***

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.

The sensation was delicious.

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.

You could see through his game.

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

***

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

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ervotica · 2 years ago

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please don’t go, i love you so

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey

note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!

hunger games masterlist

Coriolanus is possessive.

It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.

It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.

It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.

He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.

There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.

You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”

His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.

“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.

He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.

“Nothing. I have you.”

“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”

He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.

“Coryo,” you pant.

“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.

“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.

You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”

The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.

“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”

“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”

“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.

“Wanna show me just where you belong?”

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfic #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #coryo snow #writing for fun #coriolanus snow smut

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cumironi · 9 months ago

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JEALOUS, JEALOUS, JEALOUS

RYOMEN SUKUNA . . . your boyfriend got jealous because some underclassmen were helping you carry your bag.

warning. collage boyfriend! ryomen sukuna, cūnnilingus, mat-pressing, squirting, pet-names, established relationship, cum-play, biting, fingering.

wc. 11,3k

you walk towards the big tree near the field where your best friends and boyfriend, ryomen sukuna, are hanging out with your friends— toji, gojo, geto and choso. as you approach, their heads turn towards you, smiling brightly. It's not just you who catches their attention but also the two freshmen boys trailing behind you, each holding a bunch of paper bags.

“hey boys,” you call out in your honeyed voice as you arrive. “i brought something for you,” you announce, nodding to the two freshmen who quickly place the paper bags down on the grass. the bags are filled with snacks, drinks, and small gifts.

“thank you for being so kind to me,“ you say, turning to the freshmen and gently cupping their cheeks for a moment. they both turn crimson, clearly flustered and melting under your touch.

your boyfriend, ryomen sukuna, watches the scene with a mix of amusement and mild jealousy, smirking as he sees the two boys blushing and trying to keep their composure.

“you can go now,” you say, your tone soft yet commanding. like obedient puppies, they nod and quickly make their exit, casting one last longing glance at you before scurrying away.

as soon as the two boys scurried away, sukuna wasted no time in pulling you onto his lap, a possessive glint in his eyes. his strong arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer so that you're practically sitting on him. the others snicker, clearly amused by his display of possessiveness.

“and what's with the two boys, princess? the bag is too heavy you're afraid you're gonna break a nail?” toji makes fun of you. you roll your eyes playfully, a coy smile on your lips. “jealous, toji? need me to carry your bags for you too?” you tease. the others chuckle at your quick response. toji just rolled his eyes.

while toji teases you, sukuna tightens his grip around your waist possessively, his jealousy still very much present. he doesn't like seeing other boys looking at you like that, especially as if you're some eye candy. but he knows you belong to him, and he's going to make sure everyone else knows it too.

he grumbles under his breath about how the freshmen boys should've known better than to look at what's his, and how he's going to teach them a lesson if they ever thought about you again.

“well, there were quite a lot of snacks and drinks in there,” you reply, playfully defending yourself. “and besides, it's not like those boys were complaining when they were carrying the bags, were they?” you added , still trying to justify your actions. toji raises his hands in mock surrender, “hey, i'm just asking a question, sweetheart.”

as toji raises his hands in fake surrender, sukuna rolls his eyes at your attempt to justify your actions. he knows you're right—the boys weren't complaining about carrying the bags, but that's not the point.

he huffs, pulling you even closer to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you like a vice grip. “yeah, yeah,” he says, irritation clear in his voice, “but they were eating you up with their eyes.”

“oh, shut up, you big baby,” you scoff, shaking your head with a smile. your fingers softly pinching sukuna's arm. “they offered to carry it for me, and they seemed eager to do it, so why not?” gojo grins, joining in on the teasing. “yeah, the princess can't handle carrying a few bags by herself. she needs her loyal subjects to do it for her!”

sukuna grumbles further, his irritation growing as gojo joins in on the teasing. he scowls, shooting a glare at gojo before wrapping his arms even tighter around you, as if trying to shield you from their mockery.

“she doesn't need anyone,” he mutters under his breath. “and she certainly doesn't need some simpering freshman boys drooling all over her.”

toji barks out a laugh. “yeah, suku, why not just put a leash on her so no one else can touch her?”

“hey, i'm not a dog,” you roll your eyes, playfully swatting at toji's arm as his words. “besides, it is easier for you to say, you're not the one who's carrying the bag, did you know how heavy it is? i can't do it by myself,” you added. you adjust your position to wrap your arms around sukuna's neck before speaking, “and besides, no girl should carry a heavy bag all by herself, don't you think baby?” you finished your words by looking at sukuna.

sukuna's irritation begins to soften as you wrap your arms around his neck and address him directly. he can't help but soften at your touch, and your question makes him huff out a sigh.

“yeah, yeah, i know,” he mutters, his arms still wrapped tight around your waist. he can't help but secretly like having you on his lap like this, like you belong to him. “i just don't like seeing other guys drooling all over you,” he grumbles, his jealousy still bubbling beneath the surface.

choso rolls his eyes, a cloud of smoke covering his face for a second before he adds, “oh, please y/n, you're just spoiled little princess, even those bag as heavy as the feather you still want people to carry it for you.”

sukuna chuckle, “she's a gentle soul, wouldn't want to trouble her delicate hands,” he replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. toji merely snorts and rolls his eyes. “right,” he mutters, clearly not buying into sukuna's bullshit.

you pout, feigning indignation at choso's comment about you being a spoiled princess. “hey, i am NOT spoiled!” you protest, giving him a playful glare. “i just know how to appreciate good service when i see it.”

sukuna chuckles again, his hand idly tracing circles on your stomach, enjoying the feel of you being so close to him. toji rolls his eyes once more, a weary expression on his face.

“uh-huh... sure. keep telling yourself that, princess.”

sukuna grins at that, enjoying the banter between you and his friends. he can't help but savor the fact that they can all see how possessively he's clinging to you, how you're sitting on his lap like you belong there.

he tightens his grip on your waist even more, his hand resting on your hip as if to further claim his ownership of you. “yeah, she's spoiled all right," he mutters, "spoiled rotten.”

toji's eyes glint mischievously under his sunglasses as he glances at the two freshmen boys in the distance. they're standing a good distance away, whispering to each other and throwing furtive glances in your direction, their faces still flushed.

“they're still staring at you, princess,” toji comments with a smirk. sukuna glances in the direction of the two freshmen boys, his gaze hardening slightly as he notes their lingering gaze on you. his arm around you tightens possessively, a subtle warning to them.

“yeah, they look like desperate puppies waiting for scrap,” he sneers, his words dripping with disdain. choso and the others snicker, enjoying the show. “keep staring, i might break someone's neck today,” sukuna rumbled under his breath but loud enough for you and the rest to hear.

you roll your eyes at sukuna's protective and possessive attitude, but secretly you find it endearing. you're used to his jealous streak by now, but you can't help but enjoy the fact that he's so territorial about you.

you turn to toji, a playful grin on your face. “oh, come on toji,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal. “they're harmless. just a couple of boys with a crush, it's not a big deal.”

but you can't help but blush slightly at sukuna's possessive and slightly threatening tone, his hand gently tracing your waist as if to emphasize his claim over you. geto chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. choso rolls his eyes, clearly amused. satoru chimes in, “woah there, tiger. no need to go all alpha male on them.”

“relax, sukuna,” toji retorts, a smirk plastered across his face. “besides, it's not like the princess needs to do any heavy lifting anyways. not with all those boys practically tripping over themselves to do her bidding.”

“they're just some underclassmen from my class,” you explain with a shrug, “they offered to carry the bags for me on my way here.”

“oh? and you couldn't say no to them?” sukuna teases, his arms tightening around your waist possessively. you give sukuna a playful swat on the arm, rolling your eyes at his teasing. “oh, shut up," you say, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide the smile on your face.

satoru grins, clearly enjoying the banter between you two. “yeah, suku, don't be a caveman. the princess is allowed to enjoy a little male attention, isn't she?”

sukuna's expression darkens as satoru teases him, his hand still possessively gripping your waist. he grumbles under his breath. “not from them, she isn't.”

you click your tongue as you turn to your boyfriend, “i just got my nails done? and besides carrying those bags alone from the parking lot and looking for you guys is a lot of work, don't wanna hurt my hands,” you pout while showing your boyfriend your new nails.

sukuna huffs out an amused chuckle, his gaze shifting to your painted fingernails. “ah, of course,” he feigns a dramatic tone. “can't have the princess straining her delicate fingers, can we?” he takes your hand in his, gently inspecting your newly painted nails with a smirk.

“they do look pretty,“ he concedes. “you're such a princess,” he teases, a smile tugging at his lips. “always worried about your pretty hands. but i wouldn't mind if you had asked me to carry those bags for you. you know, like a good boyfriend would.”

you give sukuna a cheeky grin, pretending to be offended by his comment. “are you calling yourself a bad boyfriend, then?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

toji rolls his eyes, scoffing under his breath. “jeez, you two are disgustingly cute together. get a room already.” choso lets out a low chuckle, and geto shakes his head. gojo grins, clearly amused by the whole situation.

sukuna's smirk widens as he looks at toji, his gaze dripping with arrogance. “jealous? can't handle seeing a display of affection between two people in love?” he retorts sarcastically. toji just snorts in response, seemingly not bothered.

“yeah, right. love. more like possessiveness. besides, i can't handle her, too delicate and too high-maintenance.”

“hey! I'm not high maintenance, it's hard getting an appointment for this nail salon, you know,” you are protesting, still pouting, “i mean you wouldn't know since you don't have a girlfriend, but okay,” you shrug your shoulder. toji feigns an offended gasp, clutching his chest in mock hurt.

“don't worry, princess,” sukuna says, his voice dripping with possessiveness. “i don't mind indulging your 'high-maintenance' habits. i'm the only one who gets to pamper you, after all.”

toji rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. “yeah, yeah, suku. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

gojo snickers, clearly enjoying toji's sarcastic comments. “oh, come on, toji. don't act like you're not secretly jealous watching them being all lovey-dovey.”

geto shakes his head, grinning at the whole exchange. “oh, leave him alone. he's just bitter because no one ever offers to carry his bags for him.” you just chuckle before standing up from sukuna's lap. “come on baby, let's get away from these losers,” you tell your boyfriend without giving a second glance at your friends.

sukuna doesn't hesitate, quickly getting to his feet and wrapping an arm around your waist possessively, pulling you close to him. he grins at your group of friends, a smug look on his face.

“you heard her," he says, his voice dripping with pride. "we're off to spend some quality time alone. try not to miss us too much, losers.” the others just scoff in response, some rolling their eyes, others shaking their heads in mock disappointment.

as you and sukuna make your way away from the group, you can hear their jeers and comments.

“yeah, sure. 'quality time.' as if that's not code for making out and being all gross and mushy together,” toji mutters.

“aww, they're gonna miss us so much,” satoru pipes up, feigning sadness. choso just grunts, while geto chimes in with a smirk. “yeah, right. i doubt we'll even notice their absence.”

as you and sukuna begin to walk away from your friends, his grip on your waist remains firm, his strides confident and possessive. he leads you away from the group, towards a parking spot . once you're out of earshot, he turns to you with a sly smile.

“so, tell me brat,” he says, his voice low and taunting. “enjoying all that attention from those underclassmen, were you?” you roll your eyes, but can't help but smile up at him. you know exactly what he's referring to, and you also know that this is his way of being possessive and protective of you.

“oh, please,” you say, feigning nonchalance, “they were just being polite, that's all.” sukuna let out a scoff, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “yeah, right. like they were just being ‘polite’ by offering to carry your bags and drooling all over you like puppies. they were practically ogling you.”

he pulls you closer to his side, his arm still wrapped possessively around you. he glances over at you, his gaze drifting to your newly done nails.

“but i have to admit, those nails do look pretty cute,” he says, raising your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “but next time, let me carry the bags for you. i don't like the way those dumb underclassmen were looking at you.”

you can't help but blush a little at his unexpected compliment. even though you know he's being possessive, there's something endearing about him liking your nails. you give him a small smile, playing along with his possessiveness, “thank you and don't worry, baby. i'll make sure to ask you next time. i wouldn't want your delicate ego getting bruised.”

he scoffs, a hint of amusement in his expression. “oh, don't worry about my ego, princess. i can handle a few smitten underclassmen staring after you. but it's my job to make sure they know their place.” he stops walking, suddenly turning to face you. he presses you against the side of his car, pinning you between the cool metal and his toned body. he leans in close, his eyes darkening with desire.

you feel a shiver run down your spine as sukuna pins you against his car. he's so close to you that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. “yeah?” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies in your stomach. “and how do you plan on doing that, tough guy?”

he leans even closer, his lips hovering just above your ear. his breath is hot against your skin as he speaks, his voice low and gruff. “oh, i have a few ideas, princess,” he purrs, his hand tracing a path down your side to rest on your hip.

he pulls you even closer to him, pinning you even tighter against the car. he cups your chin with his other hand, tilting your head back so that you're looking up at him. he gazes down at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

you're smiling ear to ear, wrapping your arms happily around his neck as you look up to him. “like what?” you ask, voice low and sultry. he chuckles, the sound low and smooth. he gazes down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, “oh, princess, if i told you all of my ideas, i'd be here all night.”

his hand on your hip slides lower, slowly tracing the contour of your body until it rests on the curve of your ass. he gives you a slight squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh.

his other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he leans in closer, his lips mere inches from yours. he glances down at your mouth, his eyes filled with desire. “but trust me, i have all sorts of ways of making sure those stupid underclassmen know you're mine,” he whispers, his voice dripping with possessiveness.

you tear a low, softly hum the moment his thumb makes contact with your bottom lips, “i think everyone on campus already knows that, don't you think?” he smirks, enjoying the sound of your hum. he runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip again, tracing the curve of your mouth.

“oh, i know they do,” he replies, his voice low and smooth like honey. “but it never hurts to have a little reminder every now and then, doesn't it?” he leans in closer, his eyes locked on your mouth. he's so close now that you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

“yeah?” you mumble, eyes never leaving his red irises. your fingers trace a gentle path on his undercut. sukuna's eyelids flutter shut as your fingers trace over his undercut, a low rumble escaping his chest at your touch. he practically melts under your touch, his body tensing and then relaxing at your caress.

“yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. “i want everyone to know you're mine. no one else gets to touch you, look at you, hell, even breathe the same air as you.”

you chuckle, shaking your head ever so, “you're so jealous. but that's a bit selfish, don't you think, baby?”

sukuna leans in even closer, his lips hovering just above your ear. “hmmm, maybe i am. but you don't mind, do you, princess?” he brushes his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose against the sensitive skin. he peppers light kisses along your jawline, his mouth skimming over your pulse point.

you shiver slightly at his touch, a smirk tugging at your lips. “who am i to be mind by my boyfriend's jealousy?” you murmur, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer as you whisper, “i like it when you get possessive.“

sukuna smirks against your skin, his kisses growing more intense as he hears your words. he lets out a low hum, reveling in the fact that you enjoy his jealousy.

he presses his body against yours, pinning you more firmly against the car. his hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. “good,” he growls, his lips trailing up your neck towards your ear. “because i love getting possessive over you. you're mine and mine alone, princess.”

you let out a breathy laugh, feeling the heat of his words and the intensity of his touch. “maybe we should take this home,” you whisper back, your voice teasing yet full of desire. you lean into him, brushing your lips against his ear before continuing, “unless you want to risk someone seeing just how possessive you can get.” your hands slide up his chest, urging him to move, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

sukuna's lips curve into a devilish smile at your words. he knows exactly what you're getting at, and the thought of getting caught in the act only adds to the thrill.

he chuckles, his eyes darkening with desire. “oh, princess, you know me too well,” he purrs, his voice low and smooth, “but i wouldn't mind giving some nosy strangers a show.” he doesn't hesitate, quickly scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the passenger door.

he opens the door and gently sets you down on the leather seat, his eyes never leaving yours. a wicked smirk plays at his lips as he climbs in after you, shutting the door behind him.

he buckles you in, his hands lingering on the seatbelt for a moment longer than necessary. he takes a moment to appreciate the way your body looks in the dim light, biting his lip at the sight.

“you look so good, all strapped in and waiting for me,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with desire. “let's go home, princess. i have some unfinished business with you, and i need some privacy for it,” sukuna mumbled. you chuckle, letting your hand hang in the air for a second to touch his cheek and giving his lips a peck.

sukuna let a low hum escaping his lips. he leans into your touch, his body responding instantly to your affection. he doesn't hesitate to start the car, the engine roaring to life as he peels out of the parking lot. his eyes stay focused on the road, but his hand finds its way to your thigh, his fingers tracing light circles on your skin.

he's silent for a moment, his thoughts consumed by the events of the day and the thought of being alone with you. as he drives, his grip on your thigh tightens slightly, his fingers digging into your flesh. he's impatient and eager to get you alone, and the longer the drive goes on, the more tense he becomes.

but he says nothing, his jaw clenching slightly as he focuses on the road. the only sound that can be heard in the car is the low hum of the engine and his deep, steady breaths.

the door slams shut behind you both as sukuna presses you against it, his lips moving hungrily against yours. his hands slide down your back, gripping your waist as he lifts you effortlessly, deepening the kiss. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer as your lips move in sync, the intensity between you two growing with each passing second.

he growls low in his throat, his impatience from the drive spilling over as he carries you to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. the darkness only heightens your senses as he lays you down, hovering over you, his breath hot against your skin.

“you have no idea how long i've been waiting for this, princess,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another passionate kiss, his hands exploring your body with possessive intent. sukuna's touch is both rough and gentle as he worships your body, his hands roaming over every inch of your skin. his lips move down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake.

he bites and sucks at the skin of your collarbone, leaving small marks that he knows will be there tomorrow. his hands caress your curves, his fingers tracing over the fabric of your clothes as if impatient to get to the skin beneath.

he pauses for a moment, his hands gripping the hem of your shirt. he tugs at it, looking up at you with darkened eyes. “princess, i need these clothes off. now.”

he's barely got the words out before he's already yanking your top over your head, discarding it to the floor without a second thought. his lips immediately return to your skin, his mouth trailing a path down your chest. you're gasping for air softly, looking down at him with your hands on his hair. “r-ryo..” you whisper his name.

sukuna freezes at the sound of his name on your lips, his eyes fluttering closed at the sound. he loves when you say his name like that, in that soft, breathless whisper. it makes his heart skip a beat, and his grip on you tightens slightly.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense. “yeah, princess?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above your skin. “don't stop,” you pleaded, fingers knead with his pink locks.

sukuna smirks against your skin, his lips curving into a devilish grin. he loves how desperate you sound, how much you want him. it's a huge ego boost, and it only makes him more determined to drive you wild.

“don't worry, princess. i'm not stopping anytime soon,” he assures you, his voice rough and gravelly. he continues his assault on your skin, his lips and tongue worshiping every inch of you.

he slowly peels your clothes off you, his fingers caressing your skin with every piece of fabric that's removed. his mouth follows his hands, his lips trailing over your body like a starved man.

he takes his time, taking in every inch of you until you're completely bare before him. he looks up at you, his eyes raking over your body with a possessive desire. “you're so damn beautiful, princess,” he murmurs approvingly, his hands roaming over your curves.

you put your hands around your chest— put a shield on your bare breast away from his sigh and a crushed cherry makes its way to your cheeks. you put yourself on your elbows before leaning closer, trying to hide your shyness by kiss him.

sukuna notices your shyness, and he smirks at the sight. he knows it's part your natural shy nature and part your subconscious reaction to his compliment. he doesn't call you out on it, though. instead, he accepts your kiss, his lips moving against yours with a possessive intensity. he cups your chin in his hand, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply.

he can feel your hands on your chest, trying to hide from him, and he tsks softly. he gently pulls your hands away, his eyes flashing with possessiveness. “no hiding, princess,” he growls lowly. “i want to see all of you. every inch.”

he gently pushes you back down onto the bed, his body covering yours. he pins you down, his hands roaming over your skin as he looks down at you with his intense, possessive gaze.

you tug at his jacket, silently telling him to also take his clothes off. making the man standing on his knees between your legs start to peel his clothes one by one without leaving your gaze, slowly revealing his muscular, cover with his signature tattoos to you. sukuna smirks down at you, his eyes never leaving yours as he begins to strip. he slowly peals off his jacket, tossing it aside before unbuttoning his shirt. he lets the fabric hang open for a moment, giving you a glimpse of his toned torso before pulling it off entirely.

his hands go to his belt next, unbuckling it with a quick flick of his wrist. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers in one swift motion. he steps out of his clothing, his cock standing proud and hard, throbbing with need. he grins down at you, enjoying the look of hunger in your eyes as they drink in the sight of him.

“like what you see, princess?” he teases, his voice thick with lust.

you shift slightly, straighten your position and back to prop your burning-with-desire body to catch a better look of your boyfriend. unconsciously, you biting your nail, smiling as you look at him with hunger. “handsome,” you mumble, voice low.

sukuna preens under your gaze, his ego swelling at your little compliment. he loves the way you look at him, the way your eyes rake over his body with such hungry desire.

he smirks at you, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “thank you, brat. you're not so bad yourself,” he replies, his voice low and smooth. he looks down at you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every curve and dip.

a satisfied hum vibrates out of your lips before you are leaning towards him while he still standing with his knees between your legs. closing the gap between your starving lips and his skin. your lips wander— giving sukuna an open-mouthed kisses on his abs while your nails digging invisible hole on his muscular thighs.

sukuna groans low in his throat as your lips make contact with his skin, your warm mouth sending shivers through him. his hands instinctively reach down to tangle in your hair, holding you close as you pepper his abs with open-mouthed kisses.

he can feel the slight pinch of your nails digging into his thighs, and it only serves to heighten his arousal. he's rock hard, his cock twitching with anticipation as he watches you worship his body.

“fuck, princess... keep doing that and i might not last long enough to fuck you properly,“ he warns, his voice strained with desire. despite the threat, he doesn't pull you away, content to let you explore his body to your heart's content.

he looks down at you, watching as your lips and tongue leave a trail of wet kisses over his abs, your nails leaving little indents in his skin. he lets out a low, guttural groan, his body responding to your touch with each passing second.

“fuck, princess,” he mumbles, his voice strained. “you're driving me insane.” you chuckle faintly, finding his struggling amusing. “you are so responsive, ryo..” you mumble on his abs before biting the skin in tiny.

sukuna lets out a low growl at the feeling of your teeth on his skin, his body tensing in response. he's struggling to maintain control, his hands twitching at his sides as he fights the urge to grab you and flip you over.

"you have no idea how much you're affecting me right now, princess," he replies, his voice low and ragged. "i'm trying to be patient, but you're making it damn difficult."

he's practically vibrating with tension, his entire body coiled tightly like a spring ready to snap. he's determined to let you have your way with him, to let you explore and worship his body to your heart's content.

but it's taking all of his willpower not to give in to the overwhelming desire that's surging through his veins, the desire to take you, to make you his over and over again.

“so hot,” you whisper, eyes never leaving his burning red irises. your tongue sticks down to his abs, leaving a trail of your saliva on his skin. sukuna groans loudly at the sensation of your tongue on his skin, his cock throbbing in response. he bites his lip to stifle another moan, his hands tightening in your hair.

"fuck, princess... you're going to kill me," he mutters, his voice laced with both pleasure and frustration. he can barely stand it anymore, the feeling of your tongue tracing patterns on his skin is driving him absolutely mad.

he finally decides to take matters into his own hands (or rather, his mouth). he leans down, capturing your nipple between his teeth, biting down gently. a soft moan tears away from your throat while sukuna's hands pushing your body against the pillows, letting you slightly sitting. “oh, baby,” you whisper.

sukuna smirks at your soft moan, his eyes darkening with desire. he continues to tease your nipples with his teeth and tongue, alternating between gentle nibbles and rough sucks. he pulls back after a few moments, looking up at you with a wicked grin. “you like that, princess? you like when i bite you?” he asks, his voice dripping with lust.

he moves lower then, trailing kisses down your stomach until he reaches your hips. he nuzzles against you affectionately before spreading your legs wide apart, exposing your wet pussy to his hungry gaze.

“yes..” you answer, a soft groan leaving along with your gasp the moment cold air kissing your already dripping pussy. your gaze meet with sukuna's hooded eyes and his smirk.

sukuna chuckles darkly at your breathless yes, his eyes glinting with mischief. he loves seeing you like this - spread out beneath him, desperate and wanting.

he takes a moment to admire the view, his gaze raking over your glistening folds hungrily. “you're so fucking perfect, princess,” he murmurs appreciatively. “i could stare at this pretty pussy all day.”

he leans in closer, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. he inhales deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent. “and you smell so good too... i bet you taste even better.”

“please, ryo..” softly, you pleaded, begging for his mercy.

sukuna smirks at your pleading, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. he knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you beg for more. “what do you want, princess?” he taunts, his fingers tracing and teasing circles around your clit. “tell me how badly you need my tongue on this sweet little cunt of yours.”

he leans in, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. “beg me for it,” he commands, his voice low and husky with desire. “let me hear you plead for my attention like the needy little slut you are.”

you huff a soft gasp when sukuna slightly pull you towards him and lift your legs on his shoulders, wrapped his tattoos and muscular arms around your thigh to keep you close. “ryo..” you calling him between your gasp, “please, need you— miss you so much,” you pleading. you haven't seen him for a month, and when you finally do, you get him between your legs, ready to eat you out to oblivion.

sukuna groans at your desperate pleas, his cock throbbing in anticipation. he's been craving you just as much, dreaming about having you writhing beneath him once again. "I've missed you too, princess," he admits, his voice raw with emotion. "i've thought about this tight little pussy every single day we were apart."

his other hand moves lower, sliding between your slick folds to tease at your entrance. “but you know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder,” he continues, his tone dripping with seduction. “i think it's time we made up for lost time, don't you?”

he dives in then, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds. he laps at you hungrily, savoring your addictive taste as he eats you out with wild abandon. his tongue swirls around your clit before sucking it between his lips, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly. “fuck, you taste even better than i remembered,” he growls against your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “i could feast on this pussy for hours...”

your soft moan drifting away along with your breath when you throw your head back the moment his tongue touches your clit. your finger desperately looking for support and found his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails in the process.

sukuna moans deeply as your nails dig into his scalp, the mix of pain and pleasure only spurring him on further. he doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with broad strokes of his tongue before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling greedily.

his fingers join the fray, two digits plunging knuckle-deep into your soaked channel as he pumps them in and out at a rapid pace. he curls them just right, hitting that special spot inside you that has your toes curling in ecstasy.

“that's it, princess,” he croons, his voice muffled against your core. “let me hear those pretty sounds. i want the whole neighborhood to know who this pussy belongs to.” he scissors his fingers, stretching you deliciously as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

his words alone are enough to send sparks shooting through your veins. the thought of him stretching you open, filling you completely, sends a rush of heat pooling in your belly.

“oh god..” you whimpering breathlessly. your hand still clutch tightly around his hair while the other grasping the blanket underneath you, “feel so g-good, baby..”

sukuna grins against your pussy, his pride swelling at your praise. he loves knowing he can reduce you to such a state of desperation with just his mouth and fingers. “you like that, princess?” he teases, pumping his fingers faster as he sucks harder on your clit. “you like feeling stuffed full, stretched open for me?”

he adds a third finger, scissoring them even wider inside you as he curls them to hit that magic spot over and over. his tongue lashes at your clit mercilessly, driving you higher and higher.

“so close, aren't you?” he purrs, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. “just let go, princess. come all over my face like the naughty girl you are.” your thigh shaking along with your breath the moment his finger keep poking your g-spot, making you crying for release. “o-oh—” you stammered, eyes tightly shut and your thigh unconsciously leaning towards each other, clamping down sukuna's head on the way.

sukuna hums in approval, loving the feel of your thighs clenching around his head. he keeps up his relentless assault on your clit, flicking it relentlessly with his tongue as he drives his fingers deeper into your quivering walls.

“that's it, princess,” he encourages, his voice vibrating against your pussy. “give it to me. show me how much you love my fingers fucing this tight little pussy.” he quickens his pace even more, pumping his fingers faster and curling them even deeper within you. the sound of your moaning fills the room, echoing off the walls and spurring him on.

with one final lick across your swollen clit, he pushes you over the edge. your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, ripping a scream from your throat as waves of pleasure wash over every inch of your being. the combination of sensations pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you tip over the edge.

with a loud cry, your back arches off the bed as your orgasm crashes over you. your inner walls clench around his pumping fingers as wave after wave of pleasure rocks through your body. “o-oh, god!” your high-pitched moan filling the room the moment you squirting on his face. tightly clenching his head between your thigh along with his fingers inside you.

sukuna groans in satisfaction as your juices flood his mouth, your thighs clamping down around his head like a vice. he doesn't let up though, continuing to lap at your pulsing walls and flick your clit as you ride out the intense waves of your climax. sukuna drinks in your sweet release eagerly, lapping up every drop of your juices as they coat his tongue. he doesn't stop until your orgasm subsides, until your trembling form is left limp and satisfied beneath him.

“that's it, come for me princess,” he coaxes, his fingers buried deep inside you as he helps work you through the aftershocks. “fuck, you taste so good when you squirt like that.” he slowly pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth to clean them off with relish. “i could watch you fall apart on my tongue all day,” he says with a wicked grin, licking his lips. “but i'm not done with you yet...“ he crawls up your trembling body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

you let out a satisfied sigh when his lips touching yours. in an instant your arms found its way to his neck, pulling him closer until there is no gap between you and him. “i almost forgot how your tongue feels, we should never be apart like that ever again,” you murmur softly on his lips. sukuna chuckles lowly, his hands roaming your curves possessively as he settles himself between your spread thighs. “oh, i fully intend to make sure you never forget again,” he promises darkly, grinding his rock hard erection against your sensitive core.

he claims your lips in another heated kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. you can taste yourself on him, a heady reminder of the pleasure he just brought you to. “i'm going to fuck you so hard, princess,” he growls against your lips, reaching down to line himself up with your entrance. “i'm going to fill this tight little cunt up until you're screaming my name.”

with one powerful thrust of his hips, he sheaths himself fully inside you, stretching you deliciously around his thick length. he thrusts it inside you gently, reveling in the warmth and wetness that greets him. “i hope you're ready for more, baby, because i'm far from finished satisfying this insatiable appetite of mine...”

your body once again arch away from the bed towards sukuna. your warmth breath fanning across his ear with your nails scratching his back. a month away from your boyfriend and your pussy back to being unfamiliar with how big his cock are.

“f-fuck, since when you're became so big?” you mumble between your panting. sukuna lets out a low, pleased rumble as he continues to pump his hips, sinking deeper and deeper into your welcoming heat. “since I've been dreaming about this moment,” he confesses, nipping at your earlobe teasingly.

“ever since you left to your stupid vacation, i've been thinking about how good it would feel to be balls deep inside you again.” he punctuates his words with another hard thrust, his cock throbbing inside you. “and now that i am... fuck, princess... you're tighter than i remember.“

he starts moving with purposeful intent then, setting a punishing rhythm designed to drive both of you insane with pleasure. each stroke of his hips sends waves of bliss coursing through your bodies; each pull of his cock dragging moans from deep within your chest.

sukuna leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly. his hands grip your hips hard, holding you in place as he fucks you with wild abandon.

"you take my cock so well, princess," he rasps against your mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “so fucking perfect.” he breaks the kiss to gaze down at you, his red eyes blazing with lust and possession. “look at me,” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “watch me claim this pussy as mine.”

as you meet his intense stare, he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge once more. “come for me again, princess,” he urges, his voice dripping with hunger. as sukuna picks up the pace, you can see the lust burning in his crimson eyes. they flicker dangerously as he watches you writhe beneath him, taking every inch of his massive dick with eagerness.

his hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your movements to meet his thrusts perfectly. with each stroke, he hits that sweet spot inside you, sending jolts of ecstasy racing up your spine. “oh, fuck me— ah!” you whimpering, your breath shattered each time sukuna thrust faster into you.

the sight of you writhing beneath him, your body slick with sweat and flush with arousal, fuels sukuna's lust even further. he grunts with satisfaction as he feels your walls clench around him, tightening deliciously with every thrust.

"fuck yes," he groans, slamming into you harder and faster. "take my cock, princess. milk it dry." his fingers find your clit again, rubbing it in tight circles that send sparks shooting through your veins. the sensation coupled with the relentless pounding of his cock has you teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"you're gonna cum for me again," he pants, leaning down to nip at your collarbone. "and then I'm gonna fill you up until you can't walk straight." his words send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire in your veins. you arch into him, desperate for more of his delicious friction. your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“please, baby!” you beg, your voice breaking on a sob, “harder! faster!”

sukuna snarls with pleasure at your plea, his thrusts growing even more erratic as he loses control. He buries himself deep inside you, hitting that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. "oh, fuck..." he curses, feeling his climax building rapidly. "i'm close, princess. so fucking close."

he doubles his efforts, pistoning into you with reckless abandon. his fingers work your clit mercilessly while he drives himself to the hilt over and over again. with a final, guttural groan, he tips over the edge. "here it comes!" he warns before spilling his hot seed deep within your quivering depths. Your walls clench around him greedily, milking him for everything he's worth.

“oh. my. god. .” you groan low in pleasure. your hands holding tightly to his shoulders. he stays buried deep inside you, his still-hard cock still twitching occasionally as the last remnants of your shared climax ebb away.

after a moment, he lifts his body to sit between your legs to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across his face. “always so beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead. "you took every inch of me like a champ, princess.”

slowly he pull his cock out of your pussy, watch your cum and his dripping out to the bed. sukuna gently shove his two finger to scoop your cum back inside your pussy. he smile in satisfaction, “don't want it go wasted,” he murmur. sukuna watches as you relax in post-orgasmic bliss, your limbs sprawled out haphazardly and your skin glistening with sweat. a sense of satisfaction fills him, knowing he was able to give you such pleasure.

"that's it, princess," he murmurs encouragingly, watching as your belly firms up after the release of all those endorphins. "just lay back and enjoy the ride. we've got all night..." he moves lower then, kissing and nibbling along your inner thigh before pressing a tender kiss to the spot where his cock had just been. his tongue laps up the remaining evidence of your combined orgasms, cleaning you thoroughly before moving back up to lavish attention on your needy nipples.

"you're quite the little slut, aren't you?" he teases, pinching and rolling one of your hard peaks between his fingers. you open your eyes and chuckle hearing the words rolling out of his tongue. “i'm your little slut,” you murmur on his lips as you sit up straight. “those loser underclassmen don't stand a chance, do they?” you ask, remind him of his little jealousy at the underclassmen before.

sukuna smirks wickedly, enjoying the way you tease him. "they don't," he confirms with a possessive growl. "no one else gets to touch what belongs to me." his hand slides down to squeeze your ass cheek firmly. "especially not my tight little pussy," he adds, giving it a playful slap.

to prove his point, he rolls his hips against yours suggestively, letting you feel the renewed hardness of his cock. “see? this is what you do to me, princess. no other woman could get me this worked up.” leaning forward, he captures your lips in another searing kiss. As he pulls back slightly, he trails kisses down your neck before whispering against your skin. "now let's get you nice and ready for round two, shall we?"

his hand slips between your thighs again, fingers delving into your slick folds to start preparing you for his next conquest. sukuna smile, “let's have you on my lap and see if you still can take me fully,” he murmur. without a warning he scoop you from the bed and sitting you on his lap, your legs cage him in between. you gasp from the sudden movement before giggling, having sukuna mirroring you. your arms again found its own to wrap around sukuna's neck.

sukuna chuckles darkly as he positions you on his lap, his hands gripping your hips securely. "let's see how well you can handle me now, shall we?" with a swift tug, he lines up his throbbing cock with your entrance, teasing you with the tip before slowly sinking you down onto his impressive length. inch by thick inch disappears inside you, stretching you deliciously as you envelop him completely.

"fuck, you feel amazing," he groans, relishing the way your velvety walls hug his shaft. "ride me, princess. take what you need."

his hands guide your movements as you begin to bounce on his lap, setting a steady rhythm that has you both panting with pleasure. the new angle allows him to hit even deeper, striking that magic spot inside you with every downward grind.

"that's it." the new angle makes his cook suffocating you, fill you up completely and have your eyes rolled back to your head for a second. “oh fuck, oh god!” you whisper as your breath hitched.

sukuna's eyes blaze with lust as he watches you struggle to breathe around his thick girth. "look at you, taking me so deep," he praises huskily, one hand coming up to cup your face. "such a good girl for me." the praise only serves to fuel his desire, and he begins to move beneath you with increased urgency. his hips snap upward to meet your downward strokes, driving his cock impossibly deeper with each powerful thrust.

"i'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he vows, nipping at your earlobe. "my cock will be the only thing you crave, the only thing that can satisfy you." as he speaks, his free hand slides between your bodies to rub at your clit, adding an extra layer of stimulation to the intense fucking. the dual sensations quickly push you toward another explosive climax.

your voice shaking as you hummed a protest the second he adds another pleasure with his hand. “o-oh,” your voice wavering while your forehead pressed against his neck. your fingers hug his wrist, a sign of your protest from the pleasure unconsciously.

sukuna feels your resistance but doesn't relent, continuing to stroke your sensitive clit in time with his relentless pounding. "shh, it's okay, princess," he coos, his breath hot against your ear. "just let go. I've got you."

emboldened by your submission, he increases the pressure on your clit, determined to bring you to the brink once more. his cock throbs inside you, signaling his own impending orgasm, but he focuses on pushing you first. "that's it, come for me," he urges, his voice a low rumble. "squeeze my dick with your tight cunt. show me how much you love being filled by me."

sukuna's words are your undoing, and with a keening cry, you shatter around him, your inner muscles clamping down on his pulsing cock like a vice. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. at the sensation of your pussy convulsing around him, sukuna's control snaps. with a hoarse roar, he slams up into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as his own release floods through him. spurt after spurt of hot cum paints your insides, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

“yes! fuck yes!” he roars, slamming into you one last time after finding his own release. for long moments, you remain locked together, riding out the aftershocks of your shared climax. finally, fukuna gently eases you off his lap, allowing you to collapse against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

sukuna holds you close as you both catch your breath, his heart pounding against your back. he presses a tender kiss to your temple, savoring the feeling of your naked body pressed so intimately against his. sukuna's breathing is heavy and ragged as he holds you close, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes. he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, beating in perfect time with yours.

he nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to commit your scent to memory. his hands roam over your body, his touch gentle and possessive as he worships you with his touch.

"you're mine," he murmurs, his voice a low, possessive growl. "all mine, princess. don't ever forget that." as your breathing steadies, he shifts slightly, maneuvering you both to lie down on the bed. he gathers you close, draping an arm across your waist possessively as you rest your head against his chest— draping you with a cover along with him.

sukuna holds you close, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as you curl up against his chest. he pulls the covers up around you both, enveloping you in a warm, cozy cocoon. he lets out a satisfied sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he relaxes into the bed. he's still buzzing with the aftermath of your intense encounter, but he's blissfully content just holding you in his arms like this.

he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice a low murmur. "you okay, princess?" you lift your head from his chest, your eyes meeting his with a warm, affectionate gaze. a gentle smile curves your lips as you hum softly in response. “perfect,” you whisper, brushing a tender kiss against his chin.

sukuna's heart skips a beat at the feeling of your lips on his skin, and he can't help but smile in response to your answer. he loves seeing you like this, all soft and sleepy in his arms. he pulls you closer, if that's even possible, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back as he holds you. he's still running on adrenaline, but seeing you so content and relaxed is enough to start calming him down.

he brushes a kiss against your forehead, his voice gravelly and drowsy. "i love you," he murmurs, his words heavy with meaning.

you roll over to your stomach— prop your elbows for support, your smile softened as you look up at him. sukuna hide his hand behind underneath his head as he looks at your figure when resting your chin on your hands, you gaze into his eyes with affection. “i love you too,” you reply softly, your voice filled with warmth. you lean closer once again, gently pressing your lips against his lips.

sukuna's heart skips a beat again as you lean in to press a soft, sweet kiss against his lips. he can feel his whole body melting beneath your touch, his guard completely dropping as you express your love for him. he's still completely naked beneath the covers, but he doesn't care. he doesn't care about anything other than being close to you right now, feeling your soft skin against his and the sweet heat of your breath on his lips.

he lets out a soft sigh into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. you pull away before chuckling. the sweet, sweet sound of your little laugh puts a smile on sukuna's face. his thumbs gently sweep across your soft skin on your arm. the two of you just drowning in comfortable silence for a moment, far away behind all the intensity and sensual that filling the room before.

sukuna watches you closely as you pull away, his gaze soft and affectionate. he can't help but smile at the sound of your sweet laugh, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin as you both bask in the comfortable silence.

he's soaking in the moment, drinking in the sight of your face so close to his, the feeling of your body pressed against his. it's moments like these that mean the most to him, when the world fades away and it's just the two of you.

he lifts his hand, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. sukuna’s eyes shift from your face to your hands, a hint of concern crossing his features as he notices the broken nail. his voice softens, tinged with regret. “oh, baby, i must have broken your nail,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on your hand.

he gently takes it on his own, examining now bare nail with a touch of amused. “i’m sorry about that,” he adds, his tone light, feeling everything except sorry for accidentally broking your extension nail. he noticed the extension of the nail near the pillow, picked it up and handed it to you— the nail that you've been waiting for a month for its appointment. “oh man,” you pout, your feature deepens with sadness, making the man chuckle.

sukuna's lips curl into a smirk at the sight of your pouting face, his eyes sparkling with amusement. he can't help but find it adorable when you pout, and it only makes him more fond of you. he watches as you take the broken nail extension from him, looking at it with a mixture of annoyance and sadness. he knows how much you've been looking forward to getting your nails done, but he can't help but find the situation a little bit funny.

he runs his hand through his hair, still chuckling softly.

you frown, hearing his chuckle, and your pout deepens. “baby, that’s not funny,” you protest, your voice carrying a hint of frustration mixed with your lingering sadness. you look up at him, trying to stay serious but finding it hard not to smile at his amused expression. “you really broke my nail,” you add, your tone balancing between exasperation and affection.

sukuna can't help but smirk at your protest, his amusement growing with every passing moment. he loves seeing you frustrated like this, even though he knows he should probably apologize. he shakes his head, his voice tinged with faux innocence. "i didn't mean to, brat. it was an accident," he replies, his tone playful.

he reaches out and gently brushes his finger over your lips, as if trying to soothe away your sadness. "don't pout like that," he murmurs. you look at him, still with your pouting lips and frowning in your forehead, “do you know how long i’ve been waiting for this? you know how hard it was to get this appointment and how much i paid?” you protest dramatically. groaning as you show him the broken nail.

sukuna stifles a chuckle at your dramatic groaning, knowing that he's definitely in trouble now. he looks at the broken nail in your hand, trying to look serious but failing miserably as a smirk keeps threatening to break through. he puts his hand on his chin as if contemplating, his tone teasing. "yeah, i know. you've been bitching about it for weeks," he replies, attempting to sound sincere.

he takes the broken nail from you, examining it with a faux look of concern. "i guess i got a little carried away in the moment," he adds, his voice dripping with fake apologeticess.

you smack his tattoos arm softly, “you are so annoying.”

sukuna lets out a low, amused chuckle at your soft smack on his arm, his smirk widening even further. he loves riling you up like this, seeing the way your cheeks flush with frustration and the adorable pout on your lips. he looks back down at the broken nail, his voice filled with mock sympathy. "well, i can't help it if i get a little passionate in the moment, princess. you know you bring out the best in me."

you can't help but smile at his words, “you better find me another appointment and you're going to be the one who's paying,” you scolded the man. sukuna raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. he can tell that you're trying to be serious, but he's not entirely convinced.

he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "oh, is that right? and what if i don't?" he teases, his voice low and sultry.

you shrugged your shoulders and took the nail from his hand, trying to act nonchalant. “i can ask satoru to pay for me, he wouldn't mind spoiling me since my boyfriend didn't want to,” you jokingly said, making the man rolls his eyes, knowing how he hates that gojo and geto always spoiled you with the fact that they are your childhood friends.

sukuna's eyes narrow at the mention of satoru's name, a possessive flicker flashing across his expression. he doesn't like the idea of you spending time with those two, especially not when they're always showering you with gifts and attention.

he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him with a possessive grip. "oh, no, you don't," he growls, his voice edged with jealousy. "you're not going to him asking for anything. you're mine, and if you want your nail done, i'll do it myself."

you are laughing softly. “yeay,” you mumble before giving the man a peck. sukuna just groans and rolls his eyes but happily lets you kiss him. “you are a spoiled rotten, did you know that, brat?” he asked, voice dripping with affection as he lovingly caressed your head.

you can't help but laugh at his complaint, knowing full well that he loves pampering you just as much as you love being pampered. you lean into his touch, nuzzling into his hand as he caresses your head. "i know," you reply, a cheeky smile spreading across your face. "but you love me anyway, don't you?"

sukuna's expression softens, his irritation melting away in an instant. he can never stay mad at you for long, especially not when you're so damn adorable. he lets out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to sound exasperated, even though he secretly loves indulging your spoiled brattiness. "yeah," he replies, his voice filled with affectionate fondness.

he runs his fingers through your hair, gently caressing your head. "but i love indulging you, brat." you grin as you hear his response, knowing that he's secretly enjoying indulging your every whim. you love the way he tries to act all tough and dismissive, but he's always quick to give in to your requests. you lean into his hand, enjoying the feeling of his fingers running through your hair. you look up at him, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "you can't help but spoil me, can you?"

sukuna’s smirk widens as he hears your playful remark, his eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and amusement. he leans in slightly, his hand still gently brushing through your hair. “everyone around you always spoils you,” he says, his tone carrying a hint of mock seriousness.

“i can’t be the one who doesn’t give you everything you want. my pride couldn't take being a loser, especially for you,” his gaze softens, showing how much he values meeting your standards and keeping up with your expectations, even if it means letting his own pride take a backseat.

sukuna's words make your heart flutter in your chest, your smile growing wider at the hint of mockery in his tone. you know he's playing and enjoying every moment of this, but you can't help but be touched by his words. you reach up, gently twirling a strand of his hair around your finger as you look up at him. "aww, you're so sweet," you tease, unable to resist poking fun at his ego. "it's cute how much you care about not being a loser in my eyes."

sukuna chuckles at your playful jab, his eyes sparkling with mischief. he leans in closer, his hand moving from your hair to your cheek, gently caressing your skin with his thumb. "you little brat," he mutters, his tone affectionate despite the hint of scolding.

he loves this banter between the two of you, the way you can tease each other and still maintain the intense chemistry between you. he looks down at you, his voice turning slightly serious. "you know i'd do anything to keep you happy, right?"

“even if that means pampering me rotten?” you ask playfully, followed by scrunching your nose. sukuna lets out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be annoyed. "even if that means pampering you rotten," he affirms, rolling his eyes teasingly. he knows there's no way he's ever going to say no to indulging you, but he likes to play the part of the reluctant boyfriend for comedic effect. he gently pinches your nose between his fingers, a cheeky smile on his face. "you're such a damn brat, you know that?"

you nod with a playful grin, clearly enjoying his teasing. “i know,” you reply, your voice is light and teasing. you lean in closer, savoring the affectionate gesture and the cheeky smile on his face. sukuna's smile widens as you lean into his touch, his hand shifting from your nose to your chin, gently tilting your face up towards his. he holds your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of affection and amusement.

he can't help but love how easy it is for the two of you to banter and tease each other like this. he lets out a low, affectionate growl, pulling you closer to him. "you're such a handful, you know that?" again, you nodded your head, “uh-uh.” your finger gently touching his face, tracing the tattoo in tender.

sukuna can't help but lean into your touch, his expression softening as you brush your finger over his tattoos. he loves the way you touch him, so gentle and affectionate. he watches you closely, his gaze warm and affectionate. he gently captures your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. "you're going to be the death of me, brat," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.

he pulls your hand down, still holding it in his own as he continues to look at you. his fingers interlace with yours, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.he can feel the tension between you slowly building, the air thick with a subtle hint of desire. but he doesn't rush it, instead he just savors the moment, enjoying the simple intimacy of being close to you.

“but you don't mind, hm?” you softly ask, resting your cheek on your palm while you are still lying in your stomach before him. “you love me too much for that,” you added. sukuna can't help but chuckle at your question, his eyes sparkling with amusement and affection.

he reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "you're damn right i do," he replies, his voice filled with pride and adoration. "and i wouldn't have it any other way." he leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours. "you've got me wrapped around your little finger, princess."

you raise your eyebrows, pretend to be questioning him. “yeah? or it is because i'm naked under your cover, in your bed?” you playfully ask him. sukuna lets out a low chuckle at your bold question, his eyes darkening with desire. he can't deny the effect you have on him, especially when you're laying there in his bed like that, completely naked under thecovers.

he leans in even closer, his lips nearly touching yours as he replies in a low, seductive murmur. "well, that definitely doesn’t hurt," he admits, his hand sliding slowly down your side. you chuckle as he wraps his arm around your waist and rolls you over until you are in your back with him on top of you. “oh, you are so dirty,” you tease him, hands kissing his cheeks.

sukuna grins at your playful comment, his body hovering over yours as he looks down at you, a mixture of amusement and desire in his eyes. he enjoys the way you tease him, the way your lips gently kiss his cheeks. it just makes him want you more. he chuckles again as he presses his hips against yours, pinning you to the bed. "only for you, princess," he teases back, his voice low and sultry.

you smile ear to ear before pulling the cover over both of you. ready to continue what was left and for round three. sukuna lets out a low chuckle as you pull the cover over the two of you, his arms wrapping around you and pressing you close to his body. he can feel the heat radiating off of you, the desire building between you once again. he leans in, his lips gently brushing against your neck, his voice low and sultry as he mumbles between kisses. "round three already, huh? you are such a greedy little thing."

#ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #anime smut #female reader #devider : by cafekitsune

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gyuuberryy · 9 months ago

Text

prince charming's mismatch

pairing: prince!heeseung x princess!reader

synopsis: you and prince heeseung have been rivals for as long as you can remember. what began as childhood clashes has grown into a deep-seated animosity over the years. but when your sister runs away on her wedding day, you're forced to take her place and marry heeseung—the last person you ever wanted to call your husband.

now bound in an unwanted marriage, you’re faced with navigating the tension between your unresolved hatred and an unexpected attraction. as palace intrigue and looming threats surround you both, you must confront the truth of your feelings. will the bitterness between you tear you apart, or will it ignite something far more powerful?

genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, arranged marriage au

warnings: highly suggestive content!!! kissing, hee and reader are mean at first, insecurities, jealous!hee

note: i've been meaning to write this plot for an year now, im happy with how it turned out! e2l with hee is always soo fun to write. enjoyy

word count: 11.5k

royally yours masterlist | next: jay

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the first time you met prince heeseung, it was at a grand summer garden party hosted by your parents in the palace’s sprawling grounds. you were barely six years old, and he wasn’t much older, yet even then, the air between you crackled with something akin to competition. your governess had dressed you in your finest lace frock, with your hair tied in perfect ribbons, but none of that mattered. you were too busy building a grand sandcastle near the fountain, your little fingers carefully patting the turrets into shape.

that was when heeseung appeared, his shadow falling over your castle like a storm cloud. he crouched beside you without so much as a polite greeting, his royal title apparently excusing his lack of manners. his eyes, sharp for a child, surveyed your handiwork critically.

“that’s not right,” he declared, reaching out to touch one of your towers. “the walls need to be thicker, or it’ll fall.”

you frowned, already bristling at the unsolicited advice. “it’s my castle. i know what i’m doing.”

he smirked, a small, superior thing that made your blood simmer even at that tender age. without asking, he began "fixing" it, his hands too rough as he demolished what you had so carefully crafted.

“stop!” you cried, shoving him back with all the strength your little body could muster. heeseung stumbled, landing awkwardly on the grass, but instead of being chastened, he merely laughed.

“see?” he said, gesturing at the collapsed sandcastle. “i told you it would fall.”

tears of frustration welled in your eyes as you glared at him. “you ruined it! i didn’t ask for your help!”

heeseung stood, dusting off his fine clothes, a boyish smirk still plastered on his face. “you should thank me. i was doing you a favour.”

from that day forward, any time your families met, it was as if an unspoken rule had been established—whenever you were in the same room, you and heeseung would find something to argue about. it didn’t matter if it was who deserved the biggest slice of cake or who could recite their latin conjugations faster; the two of you were constantly at odds.

as the years passed, your mutual disdain only deepened. by the time you were ten, heeseung had already earned a reputation as the golden boy of his kingdom, a future king who excelled in everything he touched. your own accomplishments were always impressive—your parents had ensured you were well-versed in languages, history, and the fine arts—but whenever heeseung was around, it felt as though all your achievements paled in comparison.

“did you hear?” one of your tutors asked one morning as you sat in the drawing room, diligently practising your embroidery. “prince heeseung has been awarded top marks in his studies again. he’s to receive a commendation from the royal academy.”

you didn’t look up, but your needle paused for the briefest of moments. “how wonderful for him,” you muttered, the words heavy with sarcasm.

that evening, at another royal banquet, you couldn’t help but bring up your own accomplishments, eager for even a crumb of recognition.

“i’ve been practising my archery,” you said proudly to the gathered guests, though your eyes couldn’t help but flick toward heeseung, who lounged nearby, looking as regal and aloof as ever. “i managed to hit the bullseye several times this week.”

heeseung glanced up lazily, catching your eye with that familiar, insufferable smirk. “impressive,” he said in a bored tone, “though archery isn’t quite the same as, say, fencing. that requires real skill.”

your fists clenched under the table, your pride wounded by his casual dismissal. but this was the way it always went. no matter what you did, heeseung always found a way to make it seem insignificant, as though he were the sun and you were merely a star dimmed by his brilliance.

by the time you were both teenagers, the animosity between you had grown more complicated, though no less intense. you found yourselves at the same royal gatherings, balls, and court functions, and each time, it was as if the entire room held its breath, waiting to see what you and heeseung would clash over next.

at one particularly grand ball, you had been feeling proud of your debut. you wore a gown of the finest silk, and you’d received more than a few admiring glances from the eligible noblemen in attendance. you were certain this was your night to shine—until heeseung approached.

“you look well enough,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge that set your teeth on edge. “though i hope you don’t trip during the quadrille like last time.”

your cheeks flushed, remembering all too well the minor misstep you’d taken at a previous ball. “i won’t,” you snapped, glaring at him. “and even if i did, it’s better than fencing yourself into a corner like you did at the tournament last month.”

his smile faltered for just a second, but that was enough to make you feel victorious.

yet, despite the constant barbs, there was something else simmering beneath the surface now—a tension you refused to name. you hated the way your heart raced whenever heeseung was near, the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of a room. and, though you’d never admit it, you hated even more that part of you missed the old days when your squabbles were simple, childish things.

it all changed the day your sister’s engagement to heeseung was announced. the prince who had been your lifelong nemesis was now to become your sister’s husband, the future king of your kingdom. it was a match made for political alliance, but it felt like a betrayal. you had expected more from him—well, not more kindness, but certainly more rebellion. yet, heeseung accepted the engagement with the same cool composure he did everything else.

for the first time in years, he stopped seeking you out, stopped picking those fights you had come to expect. he no longer bothered with sharp remarks or smug smiles. instead, he kept his distance, as though you were beneath his notice.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. after all, what did you care if heeseung ignored you now? he was going to be your brother-in-law, and that was enough reason to keep things civil. and yet, a strange, hollow feeling settled in your chest whenever you saw him and your sister together. he was colder now, more mature, but somehow more distant than ever.

little did you know, your rivalry with prince heeseung was far from over. if anything, it was only just beginning.

the night your world fell apart, it started with a simple knock on your chamber door. the palace had been abuzz with preparations—florists arranging garlands, tailors hemming gowns, and courtiers whispering about the grand union that would strengthen two kingdoms. you had spent the evening rehearsing your duties as maid of honour, biting back any remnants of bitterness that still clung to your feelings about the match. it didn’t matter that you had spent your entire life despising heeseung; your sister loved him, or at least, she was supposed to.

you were preparing to retire, brushing your hair by the dim glow of candlelight, when your sister slipped into the room, her face pale and eyes wide with fear. you’d never seen her look so frantic. your heart sank before she even said a word.

“i’m not going to marry him,” she whispered, wringing her hands in the folds of her silk nightgown. her voice trembled, but it was steady enough for you to know she wasn’t joking.

your heart lurched. “what are you talking about? the wedding is tomorrow!”

her wide eyes darted to the door as if she feared someone might overhear. she leaned in closer, gripping your wrist with trembling fingers. “i can’t marry heeseung,” she said urgently. “i don’t love him. i’m leaving tonight.”

the words hit you like a physical blow. “you’re what?”

“i’m eloping,” she said, her voice firmer now, as if saying it out loud gave her courage. “with lucien.”

lucien. you barely knew the man, a minor noble from another court, but he had charmed your sister quickly. he was handsome and witty, but far beneath her station. you stared at her, disbelief mixing with fury.

“lucien? are you mad? you can’t just abandon your duty for—”

“for love?” she interrupted, her voice rising in defiance. “yes, i can. i won’t be trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who cares nothing for me.”

you swallowed hard, your mind racing. heeseung, distant and cold as he had been with you, had shown no signs of affection for your sister either, but this was bigger than personal feelings. the marriage was political, a union meant to secure alliances, peace, and power. your sister fleeing would bring nothing but chaos.

“you’ll ruin everything,” you whispered, your voice thick with the weight of the consequences. “our families, the kingdoms—this is bigger than you.”

her eyes softened with a mix of guilt and determination. “i know. but i can’t live my life for duty, not like this.” she stood, gathering a small satchel you hadn’t noticed before, already packed and ready for her escape.

“you won’t stop me, will you?” she asked, her gaze pleading.

you wanted to scream, to shake her out of this madness, but your throat tightened. she was your sister. you loved her. and you knew, deep down, that nothing you said would change her mind.

“i should,” you said, your voice quiet, brittle. “but no. i won’t.”

your sister smiled, a fragile, relieved thing, before pulling you into a tight embrace. the hug felt final, like the end of something neither of you could come back from. when she finally let go, you stood frozen in the middle of her room as she slipped out the window and into the night, her footsteps fading into the shadows.

the palace remained blissfully unaware of the catastrophe until morning, when your mother’s scream shattered the early dawn peace.

the palace was in chaos the next morning. servants rushed through the halls, panic etched on their faces as whispers spread like wildfire—the bride had run away. you stayed in your chambers as long as possible, trying to gather your thoughts, your emotions, trying to prepare for the inevitable fallout.

when the summons came from your father, it felt like a death knell. the walk to the throne room felt endless, each step heavier than the last. the moment you stepped through the grand doors, you saw heeseung standing beside your parents. his face was a mask of icy calm, but his eyes…his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, cold and unforgiving.

he didn’t even glance at you as your father spoke.

“your sister has disgraced this family,” your father’s voice boomed, his tone laced with anger and disappointment. “but the marriage cannot be abandoned. the alliance with heeseung’s kingdom is too important.”

you stood still, your stomach churning as you braced for what was coming.

“therefore,” your father continued, his gaze hard as stone, “you will take her place.”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. you? marry heeseung? no, it wasn’t possible. you had spent your entire life in a silent war with him. the idea of marrying the man who had been your nemesis since childhood was unthinkable.

your mother’s voice, soft but firm, broke the silence. “the arrangements have already been made. the wedding will proceed as planned. you will become heeseung’s bride.”

“no.” the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it, your heart racing. “i can’t.”

your father’s eyes narrowed, and your mother’s expression hardened with disappointment. “you will do your duty,” your father said coldly. “this is not up for discussion.”

duty. it always came down to that. your entire life, you had been prepared for moments like this, but not this moment. not like this.

finally, you turned to heeseung, desperate for any sign of protest, for him to say something—anything—that would stop this madness. but he was silent. his face remained expressionless, as though none of this affected him. he looked at you as if you were just a piece of the puzzle, another part of the kingdom’s grand design.

“is that all i am to you?” you asked, your voice shaking. “just a replacement? a stand-in for the bride who ran away?”

for the first time, heeseung’s gaze met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable, buried deep beneath the coldness. but his words cut through you like ice.

“you’re a princess,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “your role is to serve your kingdom. that’s all that matters.”

a bitter laugh escaped your throat. “you’ve hated me for years, heeseung. and now you expect me to just—what? pretend none of that matters?”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. instead, he turned away, his indifference stinging more than any of the insults you had traded over the years.

your father spoke again, his tone final. “the marriage will happen. prepare yourself.”

the grand hall was suffused with the glow of flickering candles and soft sunlight filtering through stained glass windows. the scent of fresh roses—your sister’s favourite, not yours—hung heavily in the air, mocking the gravity of the moment. you stood at the entrance of the hall, your hands clenched so tightly around the bouquet that your knuckles were white. the murmurs of the courtiers echoed around you, a constant hum of speculation and judgement. no matter how well you carried yourself today, the whispers wouldn’t stop.

the switch of the bride was the scandal of the century, and you were at the centre of it.

ahead of you, heeseung stood tall, his face as unreadable as stone. the same detachment was in his eyes, his expression cool and composed as if this marriage was merely another political manoeuvre for him, another step toward the throne. he didn’t look at you with warmth, or even a hint of care. to him, you weren’t his wife—you were the replacement for the woman who had run away.

you walked down the aisle, every step heavier than the last, the reality of your situation crushing you. heeseung’s gaze was steady as you approached, but it wasn’t the gaze of a man looking at his bride. it was a look of cold calculation, a man who had resigned himself to duty.

when you finally reached him, your heart thudding loudly in your chest, you barely registered the priest's words. the vows—sacred, binding—felt hollow, like a cruel twist of fate. how could you stand here, repeating the words meant for your sister? they weren't meant for you. you were never supposed to be the bride.

heeseung took your hand, and the warmth of his skin was a sharp contrast to the chill that ran down your spine. his grip was firm, not gentle, but not cruel either—just dutiful. he spoke his vows with a steady voice, each word sounding rehearsed, as though they meant nothing to him beyond their formality.

and then it was your turn. you hesitated, the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders, your pulse quickening. your voice trembled slightly as you repeated the vows, feeling the eyes of everyone in the hall on you—expecting you to fulfil your role, to be the perfect princess. you could barely choke out the words, but somehow, you managed. and with every word, you felt the invisible chains of your new life tightening around you.

when the priest finally pronounced you husband and wife, heeseung’s lips brushed yours in the briefest of kisses—so cold and devoid of feeling that it felt more like a business transaction than the union of two people. the cheers of the court erupted around you, but in that moment, the applause sounded like the closing of a cage. you were trapped, bound to him, to this life.

as you turned to leave the altar, heeseung offered his arm, the tension between you palpable. his eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, but there was no warmth there. just that cold, resigned look you had grown accustomed to. you were both playing your roles, just as you had been trained to do your whole lives.

but this wasn’t a game. this was your future, and it felt like a noose tightening around your neck.

the wedding feast had been a blur—a cacophony of forced smiles, hollow congratulations, and polite toasts that masked the underlying tension. you had barely spoken a word to heeseung throughout the entire affair. he hadn’t made any attempt to speak to you either, remaining as distant and composed as ever.

now, as you stood alone in the chambers that were to be yours and heeseung’s, the reality of your new life settled heavily on your chest. the palace chambers were far too quiet, the air thick with the tension that had been building between you and heeseung for years. as you stood in the centre of the room, staring at the enormous bed draped in rich fabrics, it felt like the walls were closing in. the room was elegantly decorated—ornate tapestries hung on the walls, and the grand four-poster bed was fit for a queen. but none of it mattered. the splendour felt like a mockery of the situation you found yourself in. tonight, this room was not a sanctuary but a gilded cage.

your breath caught in your throat as the door creaked open. heeseung entered, his presence commanding even in the subdued candlelight. the tension between you was palpable, stretching like a thin, fragile thread that could snap at any moment. his gaze flicked toward you briefly, but he didn’t speak, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

heeseung moved with practised grace, his movements calm and deliberate. he began undoing the buttons on his ceremonial jacket, the fine fabric sliding off his shoulders and landing in a careless heap on the chair by the vanity. you stood frozen, unsure of what to say, what to do. this wasn’t how you had imagined a wedding night would feel—though you had never dreamed this night would be with heeseung, of all people.

his back was to you now, his broad shoulders tense, though he did nothing to betray any emotion. you could feel the distance between you both, even though he was just across the room. heeseung had always been composed, guarded, but tonight, his coldness cut even deeper than usual.

he finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady. “it’s late. you should rest.” there was no affection in his tone, just the same sense of duty that had hung over the entire day. you weren’t his bride by choice, and he wasn’t your husband by desire.

you bit back a bitter laugh. rest? as if you could simply close your eyes and pretend this was normal. pretend that this marriage was something other than a trap. “is that it, then?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended. “we go to bed and pretend everything is fine?”

heeseung turned to face you, his expression as unreadable as ever. he didn’t answer right away, as if weighing his response carefully. “what do you want me to say?” his tone was measured, but there was an edge to it, a hint of frustration that matched your own.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “this wasn’t supposed to happen. i wasn’t supposed to marry you.”

something flickered in heeseung’s eyes, though it disappeared as quickly as it came. he regarded you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he spoke again. “do you think i wanted this?” his words were quiet but laced with a bitterness that surprised you. “i didn’t ask for this any more than you did.”

you swallowed, feeling a lump rise in your throat. you hadn’t expected this admission from him, hadn’t expected him to show any vulnerability. “then what are we supposed to do?” your voice was softer now, the anger ebbing away, replaced by uncertainty. “how are we supposed to live like this?”

heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, a rare moment of frustration breaking through his calm facade. “we do what’s expected of us,” he said, though there was a heaviness to his words, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “we fulfill our duties. that’s all we can do.”

“duties.” the word tasted bitter on your tongue. it had always come down to that, hadn’t it? duty to the crown, to the kingdom, to your family. and now, duty to heeseung.

the silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable. heeseung turned away, moving toward the window where the heavy drapes framed the view of the darkened palace gardens. his silhouette was stark against the faint glow of moonlight, his posture stiff, almost defensive.

after a long moment, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “i’ll sleep over there.” he gestured to the chaise near the window, a fine piece of furniture that now seemed woefully out of place in this awkward, tension-filled room. “you can have the bed.”

you blinked, surprised by his offer. it was the last thing you expected from him, but it was a relief nonetheless. “you don’t have to—”

“i’m not doing this for you,” he interrupted, his voice firm, but not unkind. “i just don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is.”

with that, he moved toward the chaise, gathering a pillow and blanket from the wardrobe. his actions were efficient, almost mechanical, as if he had already resigned himself to this fate. he didn’t look at you as he arranged the blanket over the chaise.

you stood there, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, awkwardness, and something else, something heavier that you couldn’t quite place. this was your wedding night, but it was nothing like you had ever imagined. there was no closeness, no warmth—just two people bound together by obligation and circumstance.

finally, you moved toward the bed, the thick carpets muffling your steps. the soft fabric of your gown felt heavy as you climbed beneath the covers, though they provided no comfort. you lay there, staring up at the intricate canopy above, your mind racing. this bed, this room—none of it felt like yours.

heeseung settled on the chaise, his back to you, the distance between you both feeling vast despite the small room. the silence was oppressive, each second dragging on longer than the last. you wondered if he was as uneasy as you were, or if he had already steeled himself to this new reality.

for a long while, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the faint rustling of fabric as you shifted beneath the covers. the weight of the day, of the vows, of your new title, pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

finally, you couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “heeseung,” you whispered, unsure if you even wanted him to respond.

he didn’t turn, but his voice was low and steady when he answered. “what?”

you hesitated, searching for the right words. “do you think... do you think this will ever get easier?”

there was a long pause before he responded, his voice quiet, almost resigned. “i don’t know.”

and with that, the conversation ended. heeseung remained silent, his back still turned to you, and you knew there was nothing more to say. you turned onto your side, pulling the blankets tighter around you, though they offered little warmth. the room felt too big, too empty, despite his presence.

eventually, exhaustion crept in, dulling the sharp edges of your thoughts. but even as sleep began to claim you, a cold, sinking feeling settled in your chest. this was your life now—bound to a man you barely knew, a man who had been your enemy for years, and yet, somehow, your husband.

and as you drifted off into uneasy sleep, the last thought that crossed your mind was how strange it felt to be lying just feet away from heeseung, yet feeling as though he was a world away.

the morning after the wedding dawned cold and gray, mirroring the lingering tension between you and heeseung. you woke up in the large, empty bed, the space next to you untouched, a stark reminder of the distance that had been established on your wedding night. the air in the room felt thick, suffocating, as if the very walls were pressing in on you, reminding you of your new reality.

as you sat up, the unfamiliarity of your surroundings only worsened the tightness in your chest. this was your new life. not just this bed, but this room, this palace—heeseung’s palace—and you would share it with a man who barely spoke to you, who looked at you with that same cold distance he had always shown.

you dressed quickly, your movements mechanical, trying not to think too much. the maids moved around you silently, well-trained and efficient, but you could feel their eyes on you. it was impossible to escape the fact that everyone knew. the entire kingdom knew the story—the princess who had run away, and her sister forced to take her place. the whispers would never stop.

when you finally made your way downstairs to the grand dining room, heeseung was already seated at the long table, a plate of food in front of him. he didn’t look up when you entered, simply continued cutting into his meal with precise, practised movements. you hesitated for a moment, then took your seat across from him.

the silence was unbearable.

you picked at your food, barely tasting it, glancing at heeseung from time to time. his expression was as unreadable as ever, his attention focused on the papers beside his plate—likely matters of the kingdom that required his attention. he was already immersed in his duties, the weight of his impending kingship pressing down on him just as heavily as your new role as his wife weighed on you.

finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. “do you plan to ignore me for the rest of our lives?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

heeseung didn’t look up immediately, taking his time to finish his bite and set down his utensils with deliberate care. when he finally met your gaze, his expression was cool, detached. “i’m not ignoring you.”

you scoffed, unable to hide your frustration. “you’ve barely spoken to me since the wedding.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone as calm as ever. “what would you like me to say?”

the question took you off guard. you hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. you opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to respond. what did you want him to say? that he regretted everything as much as you did? that he hated this arrangement, too? or perhaps you wanted him to acknowledge the years of bitterness between you, to admit that this marriage was a farce.

instead, you said, “we’re married now, heeseung. we have to live together. we can’t keep pretending the other doesn’t exist.”

his jaw tightened ever so slightly, but his voice remained calm. “i’m aware of that.”

you waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. the silence stretched on once again, thicker than before, suffocating in its awkwardness. you pushed your plate away, no longer interested in eating. “fine,” you muttered under your breath, standing abruptly. “i suppose i’ll just get used to it, then.”

you turned to leave, but his voice stopped you. “you don’t have to like this any more than i do, but we have responsibilities now.”

you paused, your back to him, your hands clenched at your sides. “responsibilities,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. it seemed like that was all your life had ever been reduced to—duty, obligation, and responsibilities.

without another word, you left the dining room, the heavy doors closing behind you with a soft thud. you could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on you even more as you walked through the halls of the palace, each step echoing in the vast emptiness. you weren’t just trapped in this marriage—you were trapped in this life.

days passed, and though you and heeseung were forced to share the same space, your interactions remained minimal, stilted. in the mornings, you would find him already at the breakfast table, poring over documents and barely acknowledging your presence. he would spend his days attending council meetings and handling matters of state, leaving you to navigate the palace on your own, feeling more like a guest in your own home than its mistress.

at night, he would retire to the chambers late, often when you were already lying in bed, pretending to sleep. he would quietly take his place on the chaise near the window, far enough away to avoid any awkwardness, but close enough that his presence was a constant reminder of the divide between you.

it was during these nights that the loneliness settled in most heavily. the silence of the room, broken only by the occasional rustling of fabric or the soft crackle of the fireplace, was suffocating. you had grown accustomed to sleeping alone, but now, knowing heeseung was just a few feet away, the distance between you felt almost unbearable. there was an unspoken understanding that neither of you wanted to bridge the gap.

one evening, after yet another day of awkward meals and tense silences, you found yourself in the library, one of the few places in the palace where you felt at peace. the vast room was filled with shelves upon shelves of books, their spines worn and familiar. you had always loved to read, finding solace in the stories and histories of others when your own life felt too overwhelming.

you were seated by the window, the late afternoon sun casting a soft glow over the pages of your book, when the door creaked open. you looked up, surprised to see heeseung standing in the doorway. he paused for a moment, as if uncertain whether to enter or leave, his eyes scanning the room before they settled on you.

“may i join you?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

you blinked, caught off guard by his request. this was the first time he had sought you out since the wedding, and the suddenness of it left you momentarily speechless. you nodded, unsure of what else to do. “of course.”

heeseung crossed the room, moving with his usual grace, and took a seat in the armchair opposite you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the library enveloping you both. he seemed content to sit in silence, his gaze wandering to the bookshelves that lined the walls.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “this is... one of the quieter rooms.”

you raised an eyebrow, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “it’s a library, heeseung. of course it’s quiet.”

to your surprise, he chuckled softly, though it was a dry, humourless sound. “fair enough.”

silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t as suffocating. there was something almost... peaceful about it, the weight of your shared presence not as unbearable as it had been before. you watched him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how tired he looked. the weight of his responsibilities was evident in the slight furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly.

after a while, you set your book down on your lap, deciding to break the silence. “it must be difficult,” you said quietly. “taking on so much.”

heeseung didn’t answer right away, his gaze still focused on the shelves, but eventually, he nodded. “it is.”

you hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, softer this time. “you don’t have to carry it all alone, you know.”

he turned to look at you then, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something softer than the cold indifference you had grown accustomed to.

“and what would you suggest?” he asked, his voice quiet but not unkind.

“i don’t know,” you admitted. “but we’re in this together, whether we like it or not.”

heeseung’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. it wasn’t much, but it was the first step—however small—toward something more than just forced cohabitation.

the shift in your relationship came faster than you expected. it started with a challenge—a reckless, unspoken dare that neither of you could resist.

it had been a clear, crisp day, the first after several weeks of rain. you were restless, tired of the palace walls and the constant burden of your new role. you had gone to the stables, hoping to take one of the horses out for a ride, needing to feel the wind in your hair and the ground beneath you. but when you arrived, heeseung was already there, adjusting the reins of his own horse.

you paused in the doorway, surprised to see him. “you ride?”

he glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “you sound surprised.”

“i am,” you admitted. “i’ve never seen you ride before.”

he chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

the challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and you couldn’t resist rising to it. “care to prove it?” you asked, moving toward your own horse.

heeseung’s smirk widened. “what do you have in mind?”

you mounted your horse swiftly, the thrill of the challenge already coursing through your veins. “a race.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “you think you can beat me?”

“i know i can,” you shot back, turning your horse toward the open field beyond the stables.

without another word, you spurred your horse into motion, not waiting for his response. behind you, you heard heeseung’s laughter, low and rich, before the sound of hooves thundering against the ground told you he had accepted the challenge.

you raced through the fields, the wind whipping through your hair, the thrill of the chase making your heart race. heeseung was right behind you, and you could feel the tension building, the competitive edge between you sparking like fire. it was like being children again, challenging each other at every turn, pushing each other to the limit.

but this time, it was different. the stakes were higher, the tension thicker, and the way heeseung looked at you when he finally caught up to you sent a shiver down your spine.

when he finally pulled his horse beside yours, you were both breathless, your faces flushed with adrenaline. you glanced over at him, and the look in his eyes—intense, dark, heated—made your pulse quicken.

“not bad,” he said, his voice low, rough around the edges.

you smirked, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “you almost kept up.”

heeseung leaned in just slightly, his gaze locking with yours. “almost?” he murmured, his voice sending a jolt through you.

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. the space between you was too close, the air charged with something you weren’t quite ready to name. his eyes lingered on your lips for just a moment too long, and you could feel the heat of his presence, the tension that had always existed between you now manifesting in a way that was far more dangerous.

before either of you could say anything, heeseung pulled back, his smirk returning as if nothing had happened. “we’ll call it a draw,” he said, though there was a teasing edge to his voice.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, shaking your head with a laugh. “you wish.”

but as you rode back to the palace, the tension between you remained, simmering beneath the surface. it was no longer the resentment of old enemies, but something far more complex, far more dangerous. and for the first time, you found yourself wondering what would happen if that tension ever boiled over.

later that night, the air was thick with the remnants of the day’s energy. you couldn’t sleep, your mind still racing from the ride and the way heeseung had looked at you—how close he had come, how your heart had nearly betrayed you in that moment of suspended anticipation.

you wandered the halls of the palace aimlessly, your footsteps soft against the marble floors. the palace at night was a different place, quiet and still, the shadows long and heavy. it felt like a place where secrets lingered in every corner, where the walls whispered of things that could never be said aloud.

as you passed by the study, you noticed the faint glow of light beneath the door. curiosity piqued, you pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. heeseung was there, seated at the desk, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. he was reading, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted as he focused on the page in front of him.

you hesitated, but before you could turn away, he looked up, catching sight of you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. then, without breaking eye contact, heeseung set the book aside.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low, intimate in the quiet of the room.

you shook your head, stepping into the room. “no. you?”

heeseung’s gaze flicked over you, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin heat under his scrutiny. “i’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone soft but laced with that same dangerous tension that had been building all day.

“about what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved closer, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

heeseung’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. “about you,” he said quietly. “about us.”

the weight of his words settled in the space between you, thick and intoxicating. about you. about us. it echoed in your mind, stirring something deep within you that you had tried to ignore for far too long. you weren’t sure if it was the late hour, the dim candlelight, or the fact that you had been dancing around each other for weeks now, but something inside you snapped.

your breath hitched as you looked at him, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name. but it was there—undeniable, pulsing in the space between you. and now that it had been spoken into existence, you couldn’t unsee it.

“what about us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. it wasn’t just curiosity anymore. it was a challenge.

heeseung’s gaze flicked to your lips, and the tension in the room intensified, coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like the air itself might shatter from the pressure. he stood slowly, his movements deliberate, and took a step toward you, closing the already-small distance between you.

“there’s always been something between us,” he said, his voice low, rough. his eyes never left yours, burning with intensity. “even when we hated each other.”

your heart was pounding now, so loud you were sure he could hear it. you wanted to deny it, to tell him that he was wrong, that it had always been pure hatred. but that would’ve been a lie. you knew it as well as he did—whatever had always been there between you, it had never been simple.

“and what is it now?” you asked, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even though every instinct told you to look away. to run.

heeseung took another step closer, his hand reaching up slowly, as though giving you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. his fingers brushed against your cheek, the touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine. his hand lingered there, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

“maybe we’ve been fighting the wrong battle,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. the warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, and you felt your pulse quicken.

your throat tightened. every word he said felt like a dangerous line, one that you were teetering on the edge of crossing. the tension between you had always been a fire—burning too hot, too fast. and now, it felt like it was about to consume you both.

heeseung’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and your breath caught in your throat. his touch was tentative, as though he wasn’t quite sure if this was real or if you would pull away at any moment.

but you didn’t.

instead, you took a step closer, closing the gap completely. the air between you was charged, thick with unspoken desire and the weight of all the years you had spent fighting against each other. your body was betraying you, leaning into him, drawn by a force you had denied for too long.

heeseung’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips barely an inch from yours, the heat between you almost unbearable now. you could feel the tension in every muscle, the way his hand trembled slightly as it cupped your cheek, the way your own body was responding without your permission.

then, in a breathless moment that felt like it stretched on forever, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours—soft at first, testing, as though he wasn’t sure you would let him. but the moment your lips met his, something ignited between you. the kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up frustration and longing that had been building for so long. it was a clash of emotions—anger, desire, need—all colliding in that single moment.

you responded instantly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. the kiss was rough, almost desperate, as though you were both trying to make up for years of missed chances in that single moment.

his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasped against his lips at the feeling of his body pressed so close to yours. the intensity of it was overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to stop. you didn’t want to think. you just wanted to feel.

but then, as quickly as it started, heeseung pulled back, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours. his hands still gripped your waist, holding you in place as though he couldn’t quite let go yet.

“this isn’t... what i expected,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. his breath was warm against your skin, and his eyes searched yours, as though he was looking for an answer in your gaze.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “what did you expect?” you asked softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened for a moment, his eyes darkening once again. “i didn’t expect you to feel this way.” his voice was low, almost a growl, filled with the same intensity that had been building between you all night.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. you had no idea what to say, no idea how to explain the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you. all you knew was that everything had changed in that kiss.

“i don’t know what i feel,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible in the heavy silence of the room.

heeseung’s lips twitched into a small, almost sad smile. “neither do i.” he stepped back, finally breaking the physical contact between you, and you immediately missed the warmth of his body against yours.

“but whatever this is... it’s dangerous,” he continued, his eyes locked on yours, as though warning you. “we’ve always been enemies. we don’t know how to be anything else.”

you felt a lump form in your throat at his words, because deep down, you knew he was right. but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the desire for something more—for the possibility of what could be.

“i don’t want to be your enemy anymore,” you said softly, the confession surprising even you.

heeseung’s eyes widened slightly at your words, his expression unreadable. for a moment, you thought he might say something—might admit that he didn’t want to be your enemy either. but then, he shook his head, the walls between you coming back up, brick by brick.

“this doesn’t change anything,” he said quietly, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

and with that, he turned and left the room, leaving you standing there in the soft glow of candlelight, your heart pounding and your mind reeling from the kiss that had shifted the entire balance between you.

as the door closed softly behind him, you exhaled a shaky breath, your fingers brushing your lips where his had been moments before.

everything had changed.

the royal court was buzzing with tension, and for once, the tension wasn’t between you and heeseung. the kingdom was on edge, not from war or rebellion, but from something far more insidious—political manoeuvring. rival noble houses were plotting against heeseung’s rule, questioning his right to ascend to the throne, especially after the sudden marriage to you. the whispers had grown louder over the past few weeks, the courtiers’ gazes sharper, waiting for the first misstep.

you had known court life would be full of power plays and alliances, but this was different. it was personal. every snide comment, every hushed conversation behind closed doors, felt like an attack on your marriage, on your family’s legacy. and worst of all, it felt like an attack on you.

one afternoon, as you made your way through the palace corridors, you overheard a group of nobles—close to your family—voicing their displeasure over your sudden marriage to heeseung. it was the same old song—how your sister should have been the bride, how you were never meant for this role, how heeseung marrying you was a strategic disaster.

you felt your blood run cold, but you kept walking, your head held high. you had grown used to these remarks, but today, they stung deeper. not because they questioned your worth, but because they reflected the deep-seated insecurity you had always carried.

that night, you found yourself alone in the study, staring out the window at the darkening sky. the weight of the court’s judgement, the impossible standards, the constant comparisons to your sister—they were suffocating. and then there was heeseung, whose coldness had thawed just enough to show you glimpses of something deeper, something real. but he was still heeseung—your husband, your childhood rival, and now the man who held your future in his hands.

the door creaked open behind you, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was him. you had grown attuned to his presence, the way the air shifted whenever he entered a room.

“what’s wrong?” his voice was quieter than usual, but still carrying that edge of command. he always knew when something was off, as if he could sense the turmoil swirling inside you.

you didn’t answer immediately, your gaze fixed on the stars outside. “they’re saying we’re not suited for each other,” you murmured, finally turning to face him. “that i’m not fit to be queen. that you made a mistake.”

heeseung’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing in that familiar way, but this time, it wasn’t directed at you.

“let them talk,” he said flatly. “they’re just waiting for us to fail.”

“and what if they’re right?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, the fear and doubt bubbling to the surface. “i was never meant to marry you. this isn’t the life i was prepared for.”

heeseung stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“i didn’t choose you because you were an easy choice,” he said, his voice low but intense. “i chose you because you’re stronger than you realise.”

you blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his words. heeseung wasn’t one to offer praise lightly, and hearing it now, in this moment, felt more intimate than anything he had ever said to you before.

“there are plenty of people who want to see us fail,” he continued, his grip tightening slightly. “but they don’t matter. what matters is that we don’t give them the satisfaction. we fight together.”

the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you saw beyond the cold exterior he had always shown you. there was something deeper there, something raw and unspoken. a partnership.

but the closeness also brought something else—a heat that had always been there between you, simmering beneath the surface. his hands lingered on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing the bare skin just above your collarbone, and suddenly the room felt smaller, the air thicker.

“you think i’m strong?” you asked, your voice quieter now, tinged with something more vulnerable. something real.

heeseung’s gaze flicked down to your lips, just for a moment, before returning to your eyes. his voice was rough when he spoke, low and filled with an unspoken promise. “i’ve always known.”

the charged air between you was impossible to ignore now. his fingers slid from your shoulders to your arms, the touch sending a jolt of warmth through you. it wasn’t just the weight of responsibility pressing down on you—it was him, his closeness, the undeniable pull you had both been dancing around for weeks.

you could feel the tension in every inch of your body, your heart racing as heeseung’s hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer, but still leaving just enough space for doubt. he hesitated, as if waiting for you to push him away, to remind him of the enmity that had defined your relationship for so long.

but you didn’t. instead, you leaned into him, your hands tentatively reaching up to rest on his chest. the fabric of his shirt was soft under your fingers, but beneath it, you could feel the steady beat of his heart, as rapid as your own.

“maybe i’ve been wrong about you,” you whispered, your breath hitching as the tension between you reached a breaking point.

heeseung’s eyes darkened at your words, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “maybe you have,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. but there was something softer there too, something almost tender.

before you could talk yourself out of it, you closed the distance between you and kissed him.

the kiss was like nothing you had ever experienced—fierce, desperate, and full of the years of unresolved tension between you. it was as if all the walls you had built around yourselves were crumbling in an instant, leaving nothing but the raw, undeniable attraction that had always simmered beneath the surface.

heeseung responded instantly, his hands tightening on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

it was overwhelming, the intensity of the moment, the way your bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, the way every touch sent a shockwave of desire coursing through you. you had spent so long fighting him, fighting this, and now, as his hands slid up your back, holding you close, you wondered why you had ever resisted.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. heeseung’s grip on your waist didn’t loosen, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat as wild as your own.

“we can’t keep pretending,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

heeseung’s eyes met yours, the vulnerability and uncertainty in his gaze mirroring your own. “no, we can’t,” he agreed, his voice rough with emotion.

for a moment, the world hung in the balance. you had crossed a line, and there was no going back. everything between you had shifted, and the question now wasn’t whether you would move forward—it was how.

heeseung’s thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch so tender it nearly broke you. “we’re in this together,” he said softly, the weight of his words heavy with meaning.

this time, there was no need to say anything more. you both understood what had changed between you, even if neither of you was ready to fully admit it. and though the path ahead was uncertain, you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t facing it alone anymore.

weeks passed, and with each passing day, things between you and heeseung slowly shifted. the cold, sharp walls that had once kept you apart were crumbling, revealing a warmth and understanding that neither of you had anticipated. where there had once been biting words and icy glares, there was now laughter, quiet conversations, and small gestures of affection.

the palace felt different. it was lighter now, with the growing sense of partnership between you and heeseung. your bickering had been replaced with genuine care, and though the wounds of the past hadn't fully healed, you were both learning to forgive. but it wasn’t just the emotional connection that was shifting—there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface. unspoken feelings, simmering tension.

it wasn’t until a grand banquet in honour of a visiting prince from a neighbouring kingdom that these feelings came to a head. you stood at the centre of the ballroom, dressed in a gown that glimmered under the candlelight. it hugged your figure perfectly, catching the attention of more than just heeseung. the prince—prince seojun—had been particularly charming throughout the evening, his eyes lingering on you a little too long, his compliments a little too bold.

“you are by far the most captivating presence in this room, your highness,” seojun murmured, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “if i had known such beauty awaited me here, i would have visited sooner.”

you laughed politely, glancing over your shoulder, searching for heeseung in the crowd. he was across the room, deep in conversation with some nobles, but even from the distance, you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and intense.

seojun continued, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he leaned closer. “perhaps we could steal a moment away from the crowd? i would love to know more about the woman behind such an enchanting smile.”

before you could respond, a sudden shift in the air caught your attention. heeseung appeared at your side, his posture tense, his expression a mix of barely contained irritation and something else—something more possessive.

“princess,” heeseung’s voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous edge to it. his hand slid around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side. the claim was unmistakable. “i believe your dance card is full for the evening.”

seojun’s smirk faltered slightly as he glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension. heeseung’s eyes never left the prince, cold and unyielding.

“of course,” seojun replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. “i wouldn’t dream of overstepping. after all,” his gaze flickered to you, then back to heeseung, “she’s your wife.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, charged with unspoken meaning. seojun bowed slightly, a smirk still playing on his lips, before taking his leave. but even as he walked away, you could feel the lingering weight of his gaze.

you turned to heeseung, about to make a light-hearted remark about the interaction, but the look on his face stopped you. his eyes were dark, his jaw clenched, and his grip on your waist was firm—almost possessive.

“did he touch you?” heeseung asked, his voice low and tight.

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by his tone. “barely,” you replied, trying to play it off with a soft laugh. “why? are you jealous?”

his eyes flickered with something dangerous as he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “you’re my wife. i don’t like other men thinking they can take what’s mine.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. the possessiveness in his tone, the way his body pressed protectively against yours—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced with heeseung. you had always seen him as cold, distant, but this... this was different. there was fire in his eyes, and you could feel it burning between you, a tension that neither of you had acknowledged until now.

“and what if i enjoy a little attention now and then?” you teased, testing the boundaries, wanting to see how far he would go.

heeseung’s eyes darkened even more, and in one swift motion, he pulled you even closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he leaned in, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “i don’t care how many men look at you, but remember this—” his voice dropped, sending shivers down your spine, “you belong to me and i belong to you.”

a thrill ran through you at his words, and for a moment, you were speechless, your mind spinning from the intensity of his claim. the ballroom, the crowd, even prince seojun—all of it faded away as heeseung’s gaze held you captive. you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the possessiveness in his touch, and for the first time, you realised that this wasn’t just some marriage of convenience anymore.

heeseung cared—more than he was willing to admit.

your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to read the emotions flickering behind them. “and what about you, heeseung?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “do you want me to be yours?”

his eyes softened for just a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. “you already are,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “and i’m not letting you forget it.”

the banquet had left the air between you and heeseung charged with an intensity that neither of you could ignore. his possessiveness, the fierce look in his eyes when he claimed you as his wife in front of prince seojun, had stirred something inside you—something that had been simmering for far too long.

as the last of the guests departed and the palace quieted down for the night, the tension remained, lingering like an unspoken promise. heeseung walked beside you in silence as you both made your way through the dimly lit corridors toward your chambers. though no words passed between you, the air was thick with anticipation, the unspoken pull between you stronger than ever.

when you reached your shared chambers, heeseung opened the door for you, his gaze never leaving you as you stepped inside. you could feel his eyes on you, burning with a need that matched your own. the soft glow of the candlelight cast long shadows across the room, but all you could focus on was the man standing behind you, his presence overwhelming.

you moved toward the vanity, fingers trembling slightly as you began to remove your jewellery. you were acutely aware of heeseung standing behind you, the weight of his gaze almost tangible as he watched your every movement. his silence spoke volumes, filled with desire and unspoken emotions that neither of you had fully confronted until now.

the tension was unbearable. finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, you glanced at him through the reflection in the mirror, your voice soft but steady. “you’ve been quiet,” you murmured, meeting his intense gaze. “what’s on your mind?”

he didn’t answer immediately. instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against the bare skin of your shoulder. the touch was light, tentative, but it sent a shiver down your spine. his fingers lingered, tracing the delicate curve of your shoulder before he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck.

“i didn’t like how he looked at you,” heeseung finally admitted, his voice low and rough with suppressed emotion. his eyes met yours in the mirror, dark with jealousy and something more—something deeper. “or the way he made you laugh.”

your heart raced at the possessiveness in his tone. you turned to face him, taking in the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes blazed with something primal. his emotions were raw, laid bare before you in a way that heeseung had never allowed himself to show before.

“it was harmless,” you replied, stepping closer to him, your voice softening. “but i can’t say i minded the way you stepped in.”

his gaze darkened, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours, the hard lines of his frame pressing against your softness. his eyes locked onto yours, filled with unspoken desire, but also with something more—something tender.

“i’m not the kind of man who likes to share,” he said, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “especially not when it comes to you.”

your breath hitched at his words, your pulse quickening as the fire between you flared even hotter. you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at his possessive tone, the way his hands gripped you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“and what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, your voice daring, testing the boundaries as your lips brushed his, teasingly close but not quite touching.

heeseung’s response was immediate. his lips crashed against yours, fierce and hungry, as if he had been holding back for far too long. the kiss was searing, filled with all the emotions you had both kept hidden. his hands roamed over your body, possessive yet tender, as though he was staking his claim but also worshipping every inch of you.

you responded just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every part of him against you. the tension between you, the unspoken desire, it all poured out in that kiss, in the way his body pressed against yours with a need that matched your own.

heeseung’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the bed. the air between you was electric, charged with desire and the intensity of emotions that neither of you had allowed to surface until now. he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze dark and filled with a hunger that made your heart race.

for a moment, he paused, his fingers brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of what had just passed between you. his eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the vulnerability behind them—the raw emotion that he had been hiding behind his cold exterior for so long.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky but laced with care, as if he was giving you one last chance to pull away, to stop this before it went too far.

you gazed up at him, your heart swelling with the overwhelming emotions coursing through you. heeseung, the man you had once considered your rival, your enemy, was now looking at you with a tenderness that took your breath away. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek.

“i’m sure,” you whispered, pulling him down into another kiss, softer this time, but no less filled with the emotions swirling between you.

what followed was slow, deliberate, and filled with a tenderness that you had never expected from heeseung. his hands moved over your body with care, as though he was savouring every touch, every breath. the fierceness from earlier softened into something more intimate, more meaningful, as he explored you with reverence, his lips following the path of his hands.

your name fell from his lips like a prayer, whispered against your skin in the quiet moments between kisses. heeseung’s touch was both possessive and gentle, as though he was claiming you but also offering himself to you in return. the intensity of the moment was overwhelming, but it was the tenderness in his gaze, the softness of his touch, that made your heart ache with something deeper than mere desire.

and as the night stretched on, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you realised that this wasn’t just about passion—it was about the connection you had been fighting against for so long. the rivalry, the bickering, the walls you had both built between you—it all crumbled away, leaving only the raw truth of what you felt for one another.

when it was over, you lay beside each other, your breathing heavy, your bodies tangled in the sheets. the room was quiet now, the only sound was the soft rustle of the fabric and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth.

heeseung turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. his eyes, once so cold and guarded, were warm now, filled with an emotion that made your heart skip a beat. he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. it was comforting, grounding you in the quiet aftermath of everything that had just passed between you. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, soothing and gentle, as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

neither of you spoke, but words weren’t necessary. the silence was filled with a sense of peace, of contentment that neither of you had known before. heeseung’s touch was soft now, filled with care as he held you close, his body warm and protective against yours.

and in that quiet, intimate moment, you realised something: this was more than just passion, more than just desire. it was something real, something lasting.

heeseung’s hand continued to trace gentle patterns on your back, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered softly, “are you alright?”

you smiled against his chest, your heart swelling with warmth at the tenderness in his voice. “more than alright,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him.

heeseung let out a soft sigh, his arms tightening around you as if he never wanted to let go. and as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the weight of the past finally lifted, leaving only the warmth of the present and the promise of a future you were both ready to embrace.

the next morning, you woke to find heeseung already up, standing by the window of your shared chambers, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the early morning light. he looked deep in thought, his expression pensive as he gazed out over the kingdom.

quietly, you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. he stiffened for a moment at the contact but quickly relaxed, his hands covering yours as he let out a soft sigh.

“you’re up early,” you murmured, resting your cheek against his back.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “i was thinking about everything that’s changed.”

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “a lot has changed, hasn’t it?”

heeseung turned in your arms, his expression soft as he looked down at you. “i never thought this would work,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “but i’m glad i was wrong.”

you gazed up at him, your heart swelling with warmth. the man standing before you was the same heeseung you had known all your life, but now, you saw him for who he truly was—not your enemy, not your rival, but your partner. your husband.

“i’m glad too,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.

and in that moment, you knew that this was your new beginning. the past, with all its bitterness and tension, was behind you. what lay ahead was a future you hadn’t expected but one you were ready to embrace—together.

as heeseung pulled you into a gentle kiss, the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the window, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful. your marriage, once forged out of obligation and resentment, had grown into something real, something lasting.

and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realised that sometimes, the best love stories were the ones you never saw coming.

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @punchbug9-blog @firstclassjaylee @capri-cuntz @addictedtohobi @jaysfavoritegirl

#ady 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀...👩🏻‍💻.ᐟ #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fics #heeseung oneshots #kpop fics #enhypen royal au

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bunnyhugs77 · 8 months ago

Text

Driven 2 U

Pairing: Rich! Reader x Mechanic! Jungkook

Word Count: 5.2k

Notes: am i back from the dead??

Content Warning: reader is a bit spoiled but she can't help it!, ft manager! yoongi, jk is so whipped, fluff, car troubles, reader is a bad driver, kissing, witty jk, some smut, pining, mentionsn of ex boyfriends, dirty hands, flowers, reader is a bit oblivious, mention of death, jungkook is delusional just like us.

Other Content: making out, late-night rendezvous, choking, semi-public sex, they're both so desperate, marking, soft dom! jk, light hair pulling, oral sex (f! receiving), cute conversations in between, praise.

The sun beamed down gently between the spaces of the clouds that littered the otherwise bright blue sky. Your Chanel sunglasses framed your face perfectly and your arm rested on the ledge of the window as you steered with the other. The air was sweeter, the flowers were in full bloom and the grass seemed greener.

The world always seemed so much more colourful when you had a hair appointment ahead of you. "I swear this is your third hair appointment this month." Yerin's voice rings through your aux, judgy as always, but you love her for it. She's been your best friend since you could walk, if anyone was gonna call you out it was gonna be her--it could only be her. You didn't listen to anyone else.

Especially not your overprotective dad, who kept nagging you to get your engine checked since that little light kept flashing at you. You didn't see the point. You thought of yourself as a pretty good driver even though all of your passengers often fled the moment you parked, swearing to never get in a car with you again, but they always came back.

"Yeah? What's your point? These roots aren't gonna touch up themselves." Your car began to jolt, "Uhh-" You trailed off, looking down to your dashboard and scanning for a source of the issue, "What?" Yerin asks and you quickly begin to lose speed. \

Turning on your four-ways you begin to pull over on the side of the road, "My engine light is flashing red and there's smoke coming out from my hood, is that bad?" Yerin doesn't say anything, there's silence in the car until she exhales, "You need to take your car to a mechanic like yesterday."

"-But I can't take it to Wheely's, that's where Jae used to take me whenever my car needed work." This time Yerin made sure you could hear her distress with an extra long sigh, "You guys broke up almost 6 months ago, I doubt they remember you. It's not like they'll refuse service because you broke up with one of their customers."

"Okay fine. You're lucky it's close, I'll just drive-" Before your hand could even make contact with the clutch, you're interrupted by a shout, "Do not even think about moving that car, Y/n. You'll completely kill the engine. Just call a tow truck. As a matter of fact, I'll call one for you."

That brings you to where you are right now. The passenger seat of a high-rimmed tow truck with a rugged driver. He seemed miserable to you at first, hooking your car up with a lot of grunts and 'tsks' slipping through clenched teeth until he really looked at you, eyes looking you up then down, taking in your very wealthy attire.

Suddenly small talk and friendly conversation were being made. With a rocky abruption, you bounced in your seat as the truck pulled into the back alley of the shop where there were lots of other damaged cars sitting around.

You thanked him and tipped him one hundred dollars. You clearly had no general comprehension of the value of a dollar, not when it comes to tipping at least.

You stood off to the side of the open garage, against the wall, waiting for the driver to come back after he'd gone inside to notify the mechanics that your car would need to be manually rolled in.

"You're still rolling in this piece of junk, Scooter?" A voice catches your attention two more men walk out of the garage alongside the driver. It seems the driver was known as Scooter around here though you doubt that's his real name.

"Hey, you better watch it, ol'Ruby here may be a bit aged but she's got character." Scooter taps the hood of the rusty pick-up truck while the two men stand in front of him with their arms crossed, one with mint hair and the other with dark locks; both of their backs facing you, yet to notice you were standing there.

"A bit aged? I'm certain Julius Cesar could identify it." The mint-haired man jokes and the brunette laughs while Scooter rolls his eyes.

Scooter waves you over, cueing the two men to look over their shoulders, a bit shocked they hadn't noticed you standing there earlier. "This is Yoongi and Jungkook, they'll be overseeing your repairs." They finally turned and Yoongi hardly got a full glance at you before his gaze was fixated on the man beside him who couldn't look away.

Unsure if your mind was playing tricks on you but you're fairly certain you'd seen them both before. Maybe not for long as you'd only ever been at the mechanics for a few short moments while Jae dropped off your car and switched into his.

Eyes wide and alert, you resembled a deer in headlights, unable to hold the soft gaze that was being sent your way. "Don't worry, you're in good hands," Yoongi reassures while Scooter gets back in his truck and pulls out.

"We need to roll it in, Jungkook and I are going to push from behind the car. Do you mind getting in the front and just steering to make sure to aim for the inside of the garage? Try to get it between the two pylons." Yoongie points into the garage where there are two markers a few meters apart.

Agreeing, you're just about to get back into the front seat when your phone rings. Both men were already in position, strong arms bracing the trunk and hunched over slightly, legs split apart, ready to bear the force back into the ground with each push, but you answered the phone instead.

Yoongi's brow arched while Jungkook just watched you.

"Y/n speaking."

It was your hairdresser, calling to see if you were still on your way as expected. Your heart sunk, you'd nearly forgotten ever since your car committed suicide and then Yerin was yelling at you.

"I'm so sorry- my car broke down and--" The boys listen intently, nosey as always. It wasn't often they had someone so interesting stroll into their quarters in the middle of the week.

"Yes, I know you're very busy and I would never want to waste your time--" You start but she interrupts you again. "No! Please don't put me on the waitlist I'll be there. I'm coming!" Hastily you get into the driver's seat and steer it in with the guys pushing behind you.

You got out nervously panicking, scrolling through all your contacts for someone to give you a ride. "Something wrong?" Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to ask, even though he knew the answer.

"I have a hair appointment and she'd booked through for the next three months and if I'm not there in the next 15 minutes she's giving my spot away." Jungkook just stood there, while Yoongi worked on elevating the car.

Not a thought behind his eyes at your worries. You were in your own world for that to be your biggest concern but he tried to understand. "Why not get a Lyft?"

"Ew," Your hand clasps over your mouth almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that--or to offend you-" Now Jungkook seemed taken aback, "Why would that offend me?" Your mouth gapes open like a fish before finally shutting.

"I'm just saying, the choice is yours. You can either get a Lyft or call the b-b-bus." He puts on a horrified expression as he chops up the last word to get it through to you. The result on your face was priceless.

"How about you give me a ride? I'll pay you." He stills, straightening his posture while his brows contorted, evidently confused. Even though Yoongi was on the opposite side of the car, crouched down on one knee, he too was confused. That wasn't an option. Jungkook is in full uniform, on the clock.

Does he get ahead of himself sometimes? Yes. The kid's got a big heart but he's not crazy, there's no way he would- "I'll get my keys." Yoongi lets his head fall in disappointment.

Jungkook led you around the back of the building then outside to the lot where he was parked and you turned to him blankly. "Which one is yours?" He unlocks the car as an answer, the headlights flashing at you. Quick on your heels you pivot to face him.

"This is your car?" Your acrylic points to the grey polished, sleek sports car that had the two doors opening on their own. "Not too shabby for the working class, huh?" He quips and you swat at his arm.

"I already said I was sorry about the Lyft thing, will you just let it go already? He snorts at how flustered you're getting, "Already? That was literally 60 seconds ago." You pout and get into the car, avoiding any further conversation.

His car smelled good, like really good. You found yourself taking deeper breaths than usual. It was hard to describe the smell but if you tried you would describe it as a bold yet comforting aroma, it almost reminded you of a man's cologne but mixed with the fresh scent of smoked leather. Sweet but musky.

"Leave some air for me." Jungkook jokes and your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, he pulls out of the lot and heads for the address you gave him. "Just hurry up." You slouch back into the seat hoping the chair would consume you.

"You do realize you're basically in a Lyft right now." Jungkook points out as the ending revs and the car accelerates, cutting up traffic, one hand on the wheel and the other out the window, just like you.

You ignored how attractive his driving was and zeroed in on the topic at hand. "No, this is different. I personally hired you, for the next..." You lean forward to see the GPS and the remaining time to your location, "6 minutes, you're my personal chauffeur." He just had to laugh, all those times he saw you with Jae, he'd always wondered what you'd be like.

He never would've guessed you be so full of...you. But it would be one hell of a lie if he said it didn't add to your appeal. He was no longer in dangerous waters, no no. The moment he accepted your proposition, he'd thrown himself into shark-infested waves with a pressuring current, destined to pull him to the bottom.

Jungkook pulled up to the side of the salon and you hurried got out. "Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it; oh and take care of my car!" You smile from outside the window looking in, about to leave when you reach for your phone and hand it to him.

His heart leaps from his chest. That's it? So easy? He lags for a moment, staring at your arm that was outstretched to him. "So you can tell me when my car is ready."

Oh.

"OH. Yeah. Of course." he enters in his information before handing it back to you, and the sight of your bouncy steps in your high heels and sunglasses is the last he sees of you before he makes his way back to the shop.

Walking into the garage he picks up an oil cloth that he knows he'll need soon. Startled, Jungkook's hand grabs his chest as Yoongi pops up from behind the car, the opened trunk shielding him from sight before. Grease-covered hands and stained attire are what he notices before his displeased expression.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't get in the front seat and back this car over you." He threatens, not a smile in sight except for the big one that spreads across Jungkook's apologetic face. "Because I'll work overtime for a week, unpaid."

Yoongi taps the wrench in his palm, thinking about it. "You were on the clock, Jeon. Make it two."

"Deal."

The two round the car to the open hood to get a better look at the engine. "Was it at least worth it? I know you've had your eyes on her since she first came in with that guy like two years ago."

"She's funny and she's beautiful. It's so over for me." Yoongi chuckles, reaching his hand into the hood, and starting the repairs. "Just ask her out, I don't see what the big deal is." He shrugs and Jungkook's head slowly turns, "This could be the love of my life, Yoongi. One wrong move and I lose my one chance, all my greatest dreams and aspirations-" Yoongi playfully closes the hood on Jungkooks fingers to shut him up.

"Alright Shakespeare, now help me get this engine out."

A week goes by when you are flipping through a magazine, 'What's the perfect job for you' the letters read and surprise surprise you got a model. You smiled as you placed the magazine back down on the craft services table as the photographer called you over to the center to resume the shoot.

This was for the cover of Serpahine, thankfully you weren't as nervous this time around as you were three years ago when it was your first time.

You'd been in the modelling world for a few years now, you got into it on a whim not expecting to really go anywhere with it, but the people loved you. You were only 19 when you went to your first shoot for a local retail store, fast forward six years and you'd actually driven past a billboard with your face on it this morning.

Once the shoot was done you finally reconnected with your beloved phone and saw there was a message from an unsaved number. "Your car is ready for pick up." Ah, finally.

You were sick of carpooling and hiring drivers this week, all you wanted was to finally get back behind the wheel of your own car.

The evening hadn't escaped you just yet. The sun was still out but slowly setting and casting an orange hue as you got out of the car in front of Wheeley's and dismissed them.

You could already see Jungkook from where you stood outside of the garage. Leant over the hood of another car, sleeves rolled up and tattoos on display. Just when he couldn't get any hotter.

You knocked on the wall, not sure if you could enter. He looks up with a glance before doing an immediate double take and stands to his full height. He welcomes you with a soft smile and gestures you over.

You approached him slowly, the last thing you wanted was to eat shit and land on the greasy floors in front of him.

The closer you got, the more intense his gaze became, "Wow, you look amazing." Jungkook compliments almost speechless. It was like you'd gotten even prettier from the last time he'd seen you.

Instinctively, you play with the chain of your white gold orchid necklace. It was just something you did when you were flattered or shy, in this case, a bit of both.

"Ahem." Neither of you had any idea where Yoongi had come from but he spawned and reminded Jungkook to stay focused before he vanished back into his office.

"Right. So. We assessed the damage to your engine, and the overheating engine caused the gasket to blow, causing the coolant and the oil to start mixing which is very bad." You could tell he was dumbing down the words for you and you had to stop yourself from chewing on your lower lip as he talked.

He's so hot when he talks about cars and stuff. "Are you following?" What? You thought you were doing such a good job of listening. He continued to explain what had been done and import fees and blah blah blah.

You weren't listening to a damn thing he was saying and Jungkook could tell. If he was being honest, he was hardly listening to himself, brain so warped on the fact that this was probably the last time he'd see you for a long time.

He walked you over to the register, "With the coverage you get from guardian auto insurance it reduces your initial price from 2,785.61 to 875.50." You blinked, guardian auto insurance. You had no memory of buying that, which is why you assumed your dad did and thank god for that.

Not that you couldn't afford the initial price but who would want to spend money on boring car stuff when they could go shopping? You paid and then remembered something.

"Here's your tip, for the Lyft." You smile handing him a hundred-dollar bill and he just smiles, not reaching for the money. "Aren't you gonna take it?" He shakes his head. "The car did all the work, all I did was steer. Besides, if I were you, I'd consider putting my money towards a better car."

Your hand falters, and you pout. "What's wrong with my Magma GRT?"

"I hate to say it, but this is the worst car money can buy. I see about three of these every week. For starters, the engineering of it is shit, it makes our job ten times harder. Not to mention it was wired by preschoolers, the batteries are cheap and I can guarantee you, your transmission is gonna blow sometime in the next year."

You stood there, jaw dropped.

"That's not true." You argue, feeling defensive over your sweet baby.

Jungkook guides you over to the hood of the car he had just been working on. "I'll take everything back if you can show me where the engine is."

You stood there for a solid minute, really giving it hard thought. "It's right here." You hold up the middle finger in front of his face before walking away and he laughs taking long strides to catch up to your furious pace.

"Where is my car, anyway?" Jungkook leads you around the back where the completed cars sit with a ticket on the windshield. He watched you excitedly hop into the driver's seat and run your hands over the wheel, then touching the fuzzy orchids that hung from your mirror.

You started it up and she sounded better than ever. You got out and fought the urge to do a little dance but you lost. It was cute, adorable really. "Thank you!" Without even thinking you placed a quick peck on his cheek before you returned to your car, honking at him twice before you sped off.

His fingers lightly grazed the cheek your lips had just met. His vision started to blur, he was about to faint. And then the doom settled in his stomach, you were gone.

"Let's take 5 everyone. Y/n, a minute." The head photographer calls you over. "What's going on? You seem out of it, and you can't be out of it. Not until this shoot is done, at least. I've got bills to pay too."

It's been a few weeks since you'd gotten your car fixed but now everything else felt broken. Suddenly a new outfit didn't put a smile on your face, and the buzz you got from a night out at the bar didn't compare to the flames you felt with the few moments you had with that pretty mechanic.

You shake away the thoughts and apologize, reassuring him that you'd get your head back in the game.

It's been a month.

He hasn't texted you, which isn't crazy considering you gave him your number for repair purposes only. Though it did make you sad to know he ignored the resource he had to contact you. Then again the phone did work both ways.

You were spiralling, just a tad.

Besides, you didn't want to text him, you needed to see him, but you can't just show up to a mechanic for no reason...

You paced around your room until your gaze landed on your car keys.

You shake your head.

No.

That's crazy.

You grab the keys anyway.

After a quick Google search, you concluded that this evening you would be making an impromptu trip to the gas station. Your tank holds about 30 liters so you pumped it with 35.

Once you got back in the car, just as Google said, your check engine light was on. At least this time it wasn't red.

"Oh no, looks like I've gotta get a check-up."

You pulled onto the lot with a mischievous grin, you weren't sure how you were going to pull this off but you had to.

Parking outside the open garage, you locked the car before walking in, looking around for any signs of anyone but it was empty--

"Back so soon?" You turn, face to face with the same face you'd been wanting to see for weeks. "Well yeah, I-"

The loud engine of that familiar tow truck came roaring up the driveway. A loud horn caught your attention. "Come on Jeon, roadside call ain't gonna solve itself!" Scooter shouts and Jungkook visibly gulps, looking between the two of you with a panicked gaze.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. Yoongi is in his office, he can help you."

Your shoulders slumped and your pout was prominent. Let this be the first and last time you ever stuck your neck out for a man.

A few days had passed when Jungkook sent you the invoice for your repairs. Your eyes analyzed the familiar statement of reduction showing that Guardian Auto Insurance saved you another 600 dollars.

You sighed.

You completed the transaction online and made sure to avoid him at all costs when you picked up your car. Unable to face him after he had blown you off. Even though you know it wasn't intentional, it was still humiliating.

The following weeks may not have been anything special for you but were most certainly eventful for Yerin. "I warned you not to dance on top of that bar." You joke as you walk Yerin out of the emergency room with a slight hangover while she has a cast on her left arm.

After driving her back to her place, not a silent ride at that, even on three different pain killers she was still whining about this curb and that curb, 'watch out for that pedestrian' she would yell as if you didn't have eyes.

"How am I supposed to get to work tomorrow." She sulks, resting her cast on a nearby couch cushion. "I can take you." You offer and she glares, "I guess I wasn't clear. I need to make it in one piece." You rolled your eyes.

"I'll just take my car, driving with one hand can't be that hard." She shrugs.

"It's not, but you're not left-handed. It's a bad idea." You warn but she is more stubborn than you are.

It was only around 10 am the following morning when you received a message from Yerin. She attached an image of her car, it looked normal aside from the missing side mirror.

Oh boy.

'I told you so.' You send her and she replies with a middle finger.

'Now it's your turn to go to Wheeley's and make sure to use your guardian auto insurance. Saves a ton.'

She gives you a thumbs up.

Talking about that shop made your mind wander. You wonder how Jungkook was doing. It's been a while since you last saw him. Sometimes you regret not sticking around for him to come back, or even avoiding him to pick up your car.

But maybe this was for the best.

Besides, you were just a customer. One of many. You're sure he's forgotten all about you.

Your phone buzzes once, then twice, pulling you out of the realm of peace and tranquillity that your nap had rolled you into. You'd fallen asleep on the couch while reruns of your favourite movie passed by on your screen. "Hello?"

"Guardian Auto Insurance my ass. I was charged $450. I asked Yoongi to double check and he said apparently that doesn't even exist." Slowly sitting up, you try to make sense of it.

How's that possible? If it doesn't exist then who made it up?-

Oh shit.

You quickly finish the call with Yerin, and check the time. The shop would close in about an hour, you had little time to get ready before you made your way there.

Pulling into the driveway so late at night made your headlights seem like spotlights, bouncing off every reflective surface in sight. Catching Jungkook's attention as he wasn't expecting anyone this late at night.

In his fitted jumpsuit, he watched the car pull up closer to the garage, shining the bright light in his face until the engine was shut off. He'd seen this car hundreds of times. He couldn't get his hopes up, but the second your red bottoms hit the concrete his heart was pounding.

You were headed right towards him.

You looked angry- no, upset, no-

"When were you gonna tell me that there's really no Guardian Auto Insurance and that you've been covering 80% of my costs out of your own pocket?" You definitely sounded angry but your gaze seemed... soft.

You stopped right in front of him, face to face. Your breathing was heavy and your brows furrowed as your eyes danced between both of his deep brown, apologetic ones. "I-"

"Just shut up." Grabbing a gentle hold of his cheeks in your hands, you pulled his lips down to meet yours. It took Jungkook a second to process what was going on but once his brain caught up, so did his hands.

He held you securely at the waist, tugging you into him until your front was against his and he worked his tongue with yours. Your heads tilted slightly to deepen the kiss.

You always knew he'd be a great kisser, but this was taking your breath away. Literally. You pulled away from him, lungs reaching for a much-needed dose of oxygen while Jungkook did the same. His gaze was much darker.

"You and this stupid uniform. I want to finally see what's underneath-" Reaching for his buttons, you're able to get the first four undone with a few stray kisses to his neck that send Jungkook absolutely reeling. A soft moan escapes him before he pulls back.

"Wait. Wait, I have something for you." He disappears into one of the offices before coming back with a bouquet of orchids. Your gasp is genuine.

"Yoongi said a friend of yours was in the shop earlier and I'd already been thinking about you non-stop so I just took it as a sign to reach out. I was actually going to bring these to you later once the shop closed. I noticed you had orchids on your necklace and in your car so I just thought you'd like them." You give them a sniff. "I love them. They were actually my mom's favourite flower before she passed."

He frowns, "I'm sorry to hear that," you give him a sad smile, "Thank you, it means a lot. Really. But we can talk about that later," You place the flowers behind you on the trunk of the car. Jungkook grins.

"You're very direct aren't you." You shrug. "You'll get used to it."

He walks up to you, looking down at you with the six inches his head carried over yours. "Oh, will I?" You nod with unwavering confidence. "Unless you can't handle it-" A big, gentle hand is placed around your neck, no pressure applied until he speaks, "I'm not the one who needs to be worried about."

With that said he slowly sinks himself to his knees, big hands reaching under your ruffled skirt, taking two handfuls of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. You gasp as you feel him slowly drag a finger along the soaked fabric of your panties.

"Please, Jungkook." The harmonious sound of you begging rattled him to his core. With no self-restraint, he would do anything you asked. "Don't worry princess, I've got you. Gonna take good care of you." he pulls down the only thing keeping him from your soaked cunt and a low growl rumbles in his chest at the sight.

He helps you to step out of your panties with your heels still on, he couldn't let your bare feet touch the floors. You open your hand for the garment but you roll your eyes at the sight of him pocketing them in his uniform. You already know you'll never see them again and you accept it.

He has you bunch up your skirt around your waist for better sight. Smoothly he places one leg over his shoulder while your body rests against the trunk of the car. The grip he holds on your left thigh is tight enough to make your brain spin and surely marks will follow.

"See. I always knew I'd have you on your knees for me one d-AY. Oh fuck!" Jungkook can't be bothered to bark back at you not when he has an insatiable appetite and a full meal right in front of him.

His jaw worked itself as he lapped up at your center. Tongue long and warm, licking every square inch of you until you couldn't take it, hands reaching desperately for his hair and he groaned.

Once he finally had you where he wanted you, reduced to nothing but begs and whimpers, he allowed his tongue to flick over your clit repeatedly, until he felt half of your body weight fall onto his right shoulder for a moment.

You could hardly even keep yourself up. He was going to make sure you remembered this. "Oh shit! P-please Jungkook. M'So close." He groans, his right hand pressing down on the solid bulge in his pants for a little relief.

Your slick was running down his chin, some even down the sides of his neck as he worked you with his tongue. Writhing nonstop, though this wouldn't be an issue if he had a better environment. He'd have you pinned and unable to run from him.

To finish you off he let his teeth graze so lightly over your clit, you almost wouldn't feel it had he not heightened your senses to such an extreme with his intricate pussy eating.

You came with his name falling off your lips.

Your face turns beet red as he tells you to look down at the mess you made on the ground below you. "What were you saying earlier? Something about me being on my knees for you-"

"Just fuck me already." Jungkook stands back up to his full height, clicking his tongue with tsk' sounds. "I pay for your repairs, I buy you flowers, I make you cum and this is how you talk to me? Where are your manners." Jungkook adjusts your skirt so it's back in place and he picks you up to sit on the trunk.

"Besides. I'm not fucking you in here. I wanna take you out first." You smile at that, "Finally, a smile." He remarks, and your body limps forward naturally, your arms wrapping around his neck while your head settles in the crook of his neck and your eyes flutter shut. You ignore his previous statement until he whispers in your ears. "You do realize the garage was open this whole time, and anyone who drove by got a front-row show?" Your eyes shoot open.

#bts #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #btssmuts #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic recs #dom jungkook #jeon jungkook #btsscenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader

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x1asirene · 11 days ago

Text

push n' fracture ! — caleb 夏 (f1 rider! au)

— ! lexical count : 5.7k words

— ! affinity : caleb (xia yizhou) x fem!reader

— ! essence : caleb doesn’t do rivals. especially not when they’re plastered across your skin. jealousy twists into something sharp and dangerous as possession takes over, and the line between love and obsession blurs. tangled, messy, and burning with tension—this is about claiming what’s his, no matter the cost.

— ! precautionary : fem!reader, use of ‘y/n’ and feminine pronouns, f1 rider!caleb, sexual content, jealousy, possessiveness, intense physicality, car crash (non-fatal), semi-public setting, slight degradation, overstimulation, roughness, dom!caleb, rivalry-based tension, angry sex

— ! writer’s foreword : just crash-landed home from, brain leaking out my ears, and what did i do? rest? recover? touch grass? no. i opened my laptop and immediately started writing this unholy, feral filthfest. if this fic makes no sense or feels like a fever dream, blame the caffeine overdose and my sleep deprivation. also, send help (and snacks). preferably both.

— ! soundtrack in play : ohmami by chase atlantic

this is my only account. any similarities between this work and others—published or unpublished—are entirely coincidental. i pour a great deal of time, care, and emotion into what i create. it is against both my principles and my moral compass to plagiarize or steal from the work of others. i hold deep respect for the creators who came before me, and i would never knowingly compromise the integrity of their work or mine. furthermore, i do not condone the use of AI in the creation or replication of fanworks. everything here is original and made with clean intentions.

minors dni. this work contains dark, mature themes and is intended for adult audiences only. accounts that do not clearly indicate age in their bio or blog will be blocked without warning. this is for my safety and yours—respect boundaries, respect creators.

you weren’t even wearing his team hoodie.

no red bull colors. no little sticker of his number on your cheek like you wore in monaco. no subtle sign that you were his—not even a glance in his direction. instead, your shirt clung to your skin in the dry desert heat, speckled with sun and cropped enough to bare your ribs when the desert wind blew. that tight mclaren crop tee clung to your skin, the bright tarocco tone screaming his rival’s colors as you stood too close—way too close—to rafayel.

it all started with a laugh. just a laugh. nothing more.

you’d meant nothing by it—just a shared joke with rafayel in the hospitality lounge before qualifying. rafayel leaned toward you with that signature half-grin, elbow on the counter of the lounge, head tilted just enough to make it intimate. charming. relaxed. fucking smug. his hand had brushed your arm when you’d thrown your head back, the soft trill of your giggle carried into the desert air. head tipped back, fingers brushing his arm as you caught his eye and giggled at something he said. a soft, unconscious motion. a friendly exchange. nothing malicious, nothing overt.

you should’ve known. you should’ve seen it in the way caleb’s jaw locked during the driver briefing—helmet held by its chin bar, fzipped up to his collarbone, gloves hooked around two fingers—and for the first time in his career, he wasn’t thinking about tire temps or DRS zones. his jaw flexed tight enough to cramp as he watched rafayel lean in closer, and watched you—his girl, the girl who should never let anyone that close—giggle and tuck your hair behind your ear like it wasn’t a fucking dagger straight through his sternum.

“caleb,” his engineer’s voice crackled through the headset. “you alright, mate? you seem out of it—everythin’ okay?”

he didn’t answer right away. swallowed hard, blinked once. his grip clenched tighter around his helmet, the carbon fiber started to dent. “…peachy.”

he didn’t look at rafayel again. didn’t need to.

he’d already decided.

i’ll deal with you later.

P2 on the grid.

of course it was P2.

rafayel sat in his mclaren like he already had the win wrapped around his fingers, one gloved hand drumming rhythmically on the top of his wheel, the other giving a little mock salute to the crowd through the visor cam. caleb didn’t look at him. his gloves were already tugged tight, helmet sealed, eyes locked forward—but all he saw behind the visor was the orange shirt stuck to your back in the heat with the stupid bold mclaren settled on the fabric right over your heart. his number and name nowhere in sight.

“radio check,” his engineer called.

he didn’t respond.

“caleb? radio check, mate?”

his voice finally came through, taut and venomous. “loud and fucking clear.”

there was a beat of silence. a pause on the line, “you good, man?”

he forced a breath through his nose. “let’s just get this over with,” over the loud hum of the engine, all he could hear was the echoes of your laugh with that shithead rafayel.

“five lights on,” the race director counted. “and it’s lights out and away we go—!” rafayel’s launch was clean—but caleb was rabid. the red bull fired forward like a predator loosed from the leash, barely missing P3 as he launched straight into turn 1 side-by-side with the mclaren. rafayel closed him off with a hard brake, forcing caleb out wide on the dirty part of the track, but caleb didn’t lift — not even when his front wing came within centimeters of rafayel’s rear.

“he’s driving like he wants to fuckin’ kill me,” rafayel spat over comms, his voice crackling. caleb didn’t respond on his own. he was too busy chasing. he spent the first dozen laps locked inside DRS range, not even trying to overtake clean—no, every move was calculated pressure. he drove like he wanted rafayel to feel him breathing down his neck. every brake was late. every corner exit was close enough to make the mclaren engineer panic.

“back off, caleb!” his own team barked at one point. “you’re risking a collision!” but caleb didn’t care. he wanted him to feel cornered. to know that he was prey. because he was. you don’t put your hands on her, he thought darkly as he tailgated out of turn 10, and walk away unscathed.

you were on the pit wall by then—wearing orange, still—and caleb saw you glance up at the timing tower. every time his number lit up right behind rafayel’s, you tensed. he saw it.

good, he thought. watch me. watch what i do to the man who touches what’s mine.

it built slowly—tire wear creeping in, temps rising, his rear losing grip in sector 3. still he stayed out, defying every team call to box. lap 26, rafayel’s tires began to fail. the tires wore down. rear traction faded. lap times dropped. still, he didn’t box. ignored every pit call.

“caleb, come in, we’re losing compound.”

“negative.” his voice came back hoarse. “i’ve got him.”

lap 28, rafayel’s grip was breaking—caleb could see it in the rear twitch. turn fourteen, he closed in so tight the slipstream pulled bits of rubber into his halo. he could’ve tapped the diffuser with his nose cone if he wanted. could’ve unstitched the seams of that mclaren.

“final lap,” came the call. “no funny shit, caleb.” but it was too late for that. he already knew where he’d do it. turn 13. fast. blind. unforgiving. he waited for the right moment, nudged inside, and turned in early.

the contact was immediate.

carbon fiber shredded. both cars locked up in a scream of tire smoke and screeching brakes. rafayel’s mclaren spun violently off the racing line, back end slammed against the barriers, dust pluming into the air. caleb’s red bull skidded into the gravel with a thunderous jolt.

yellow flags. double waved.

red flag. the race was over.

rafayel was out. caleb’s engine stalled in the gravel. static choked the radio. “what the fuck was that?!” screamed race control. he didn’t answer. not until he saw the red flag and the dust settle. not until he saw your face on the edge of the pit wall go white.

he didn’t attend the press conference. didn’t even unbuckle until a marshal banged on his cockpit. his PR rep trailed after him with panicked eyes and a clipboard full of damage control bullet points, but caleb walked right past him, suit still half-zipped, jaw clenched hard enough he could swear his teeth would crush with the pressure. they tried to stop him. camera caught his shoulder. reporters called his name—he didn’t even turn his head.

no interviews. no apologies. no explanations.

let them speculate. let them talk.

he didn’t give a single damn.

because rafayel wouldn’t touch you again.

not after this.

you didn’t speak the entire drive back.

he’d refused the medical tent. ignored the swarm of reporters like they weren’t even there, brushed past the PR team screaming his name with a pace so brutal you’d had to jog to keep up. he didn’t speak. didn’t even look at you. just reached back once—wrist tight, fingers wrapping around yours—and yanked you with him through the mess of the paddock and straight into the red bull private lot.

the silence was suffocating. not tense in the way people usually meant it—not awkward, not uncomfortable. it was a pressure chamber. the kind that made your ears ring and your chest hurt. you could hear every turn signal click, every swipe of the wiper across the windshield, even the way caleb’s grip on the wheel creaked under his gloves. he hadn’t taken them off. still in his fireproofs, zipper low on his chest, collarbone glistening with sweat and dust, jaw locked so tight it looked like it might snap.

the door slammed shut behind you with a vicious bang!—a sound that echoed like a gunshot off the walls—and it made your shoulders jerk involuntarily. he didn’t say a word. didn’t glance back. just stalked across the living room like the adrenaline was still burning through his blood, ripping open the fridge like something in it might anchor him, steady the fury in his bones. but even from where you stood, you could see the tremor in his hand. the way his fingers gripped the handle too hard. the tension still coiled in his shoulders like a spring wound to the point of rupture.

he wasn’t calming down. not even close.

the silence throbbed around you, thick and charged. you shifted on your feet, breath shallow, heart hammering like it wanted to crawl out of your throat.

“caleb—” you started, voice small.

“take it off.” his voice was low, sliced through the air like a whip.

you froze. your mouth parted, a breath catching in your throat. “w-what?”

he closed the fridge slowly. deliberately. then turned.

his eyes were black beneath the heavy shadow of his brow, dark and molten like they hadn’t cooled since the second his front wing clipped rafayel’s tire in that brutal turn. he took a step toward you, slow and controlled, like a predator choosing exactly how to pounce. “the fucking shirt,” he said, voice low and thick with venom. another step. “take it off before i rip it off ‘ya.”

your stomach dropped. you looked down instinctively. that stupid, traitorous mclaren tee still clung to your sweat-damp skin, streaked with grime and faint splashes of champagne from a podium that wasn’t his. that bright orange logo burned against your chest like a brand, and suddenly it felt radioactive.

you didn’t move. you hesitated.

and that was all it took.

two strides, and he was on you.

your back hit the wall so fast the impact knocked the breath from your lungs. the world narrowed—your heartbeat screamed in your ears, adrenaline flared under your skin, and caleb was there, crowding you in, body a furnace, heat rolling off him in waves. his fingers hooked the hem and yanked—not teasing, not even urgent. violent. the fabric caught against your arms, dragged over your skin so fast it left a burn, your hair tangled and pulled, nipples tightening into stiff peaks in the sudden rush of cold air.

caleb tossed the shirt onto the floor like it disgusted him.

“you wanna wear his colors?” he muttered, voice low and curling with fury. his breath hit your collarbone, his words too close, too hot. “wanna sit there in his fucking garage and giggle at his jokes while he stares at your tits through my windshield?”

tone wasn’t raised. he didn’t have to shout. it was the quietness that made it worse—quiet like a threat wrapped in velvet. quiet like a knife at your ribs.

you breath stuttered, your voice coming out weaker than you wanted it to. “c-caleb, i wasn’t—he didn’t—”

“shut it,” he snarled it, close enough for your lips to brush, and the force of it made your breath stutter. his hands came up—hard—gripping your waist, rough fingers digging into your hips like he meant to leave marks, like he wanted to brand you into him, carve out any memory of someone else’s eyes on your skin. caleb dragged you forward, chest to chest, his heart thudding against yours like war drums.

“i don’t want your pathetic excuses,” he ground out. “you don’t wear his name. you don’t smile at him.”

the silence after was suffocating.

his fingers curled tighter around your sides. his mouth hovered near your jaw, breath ragged and warm, chest heaving with every inhale like he couldn’t catch it. rage coiled off him in waves, not loud anymore—just molten, buried deep, a kind of fury that didn’t explode. it consumed. slow. controlled. and it was deadly.

and it was all aimed at the thought of him touching you.

of you letting him.

caleb’s thumb ghosted over your ribs, rough and possessive, tracing the bare skin now exposed in the absence of that damned shirt.

his mouth crushed against yours before you could speak—hot, brutal, punishing. all teeth and fury, like he wanted to bite the silence from your tongue, like tasting you was the only thing anchoring him to the present. he didn’t kiss you so much as devour you, lips bruising, jaw tense with barely-contained rage, breathing you in like you were air after drowning.

his hands were everywhere—frantic, careless. they slid down the arch of your spine, fingers pressing into every vertebra like he meant to memorize the shape of you, then sank lower, palms gripping your ass with bruising force. he hauled you against him so hard your breath fled, pelvis grinding to his through the fireproofs still clinging to his hips. he was already half-hard. already throbbing through the thin barrier between you. the press of it against your lower stomach made your knees tremble.

and then his gaze dropped.

his eyes caught on the denim. the sound that tore from his throat was less a breath and more a mocking scoff.

the low-rise shorts clung to your hips like sin, skin peeking out from under the frayed hem, teasing with that reckless kind of innocence that only made his fury burn hotter. they sat just high enough to hint at modesty but dipped scandalously low, hugging the softness of your waist like a taunt.

slowly, he reached down—deliberate, fingers flexing—and let his hand splay flat over your stomach. his palm was hot against your skin. the heel of it rested against the waistband, and then—without breaking eye contact—he slipped his thumb beneath it. just the barest intrusion. a single brush of rough skin over the delicate swell of your mound, not enough to touch you properly, but enough to make your whole body jerk with a whimper.

“these,” he sneered. “you wore these to the paddock? while he was watching?” his voice dropped into a guttural rasp. you opened your mouth to protest, but his voice cut you off—deeper now, dipped into something feral.

“he was probably fucking imagining what you looked like bent over the pit wall in ‘em,” caleb rasped, and the way he said it—like it sickened him, like it possessed him—made your stomach twist.

his eyes darkened—and in one swift, brutal motion, he popped the button on the shorts with a flick of his thumb. the metallic click echoed in the room like a shot. then his fingers gripped the zipper and yanked it down so roughly you gasped, fabric jerking against your hips before it slid down to your thighs, pooling at your feet in a useless, tangled heap.

he didn’t stop. his hand moved fast, unforgiving—already pulling your panties to the side before you had time to react. the elastic scraped the crease of your thigh, baring you to the chill of the room and the heat of him, and still, he didn’t look away. didn’t blink. just stared down at your cunt like it had betrayed him, like it belonged to him and had wandered somewhere it shouldn’t have.

“c-caleb,” you stammered, your voice catching, high and desperate, “you’re being—,” but the words dissolved on your tongue.

because his fingers were there, already brushing against slick heat, already groaning under his breath like it physically hurt him that you were wet for this—wet for him, even now, even after everything.

you could hardly breathe.

your head lolled against the wall as his fingers fucked you open—deep, firm, unrelenting. You were soaked, the wet sounds of it obscene in the charged silence, broken only by the staggered hitch of your breath and the rough rasp of his. your thighs were trembling, barely holding you upright, and caleb didn’t let up. he wouldn’t let up.

his voice curled against your ear, low and smug and absolutely feral. “you’re not even trying to stop me.” your mouth opened but nothing came out—just a soft, cracked moan. “yeah,” he hissed. “that’s what i thought.”

he drove his fingers in deeper, curling them just right—pulling a strangled sound from your throat. your hips jerked helplessly, and he groaned as your pussy clenched, dripping all over his knuckles.

“f-fuck,” you gasped, arms scrambling for purchase across his chest, clutching at the fabric of his fireproofs like he was your anchor. “c-caleb, i—nnh, please—”

you whimpered, broken and breathless, voice catching on each gasp. “i-i didn’t mean—nnh ahhh—d-didn’t mean to—”

“you wore that fucking shirt. wore his team, his number, his name. you meant it.” his teeth dragged over your neck, biting down hard enough to make your legs quake. “don’t act like you don’t like this. like you don’t love being fucked dumb right after i almost took him off the track.”

you sobbed out a noise that barely resembled his name—“p-please, i—oh, god—”

his fingers hit that spot again, and your body jolted, hips rocking into his palm like you couldn’t help it. the muscles in your stomach tensed, fluttering around the edge of your climax. he felt it, saw it, and laughed—low and delighted.

“oh, baby… gonna cum, aren’t ya’?” he mocked, breath hot against your jaw, eyes glittering. “you’re so easy. just a couple fingers and you’re already soaking me. dripping like a goddamn whore.”

“p-please—ah—please, i can’t—” your words broke apart, swallowed by the sounds of your own whimpers as your orgasm built sharp and unbearable. “i-i c-can’t hold it, caleb, i—fuck—”

“then don’t.” his hand gripped your jaw, forcing your eyes to his. “let me hear how mine you are.” and you shattered. a sobbing, shaking mess.y our body locked up, thighs clenching around his wrist as you came with a choked cry—wet and slick and pulsing so hard around his fingers you felt your knees threaten to give out. caleb held you upright through it, murmuring dark praise between your panting breaths.

“that’s it. that’s my girl.” he pressed a kiss to your temple—mockingly tender, wicked and warm. “so good when you’re ruined.” his fingers slipped free with a wet noise, glistening in the low light. he brought them to your lips, eyes still sharp and burning. “suck f’ me, will ya’?”

you blinked, dazed, mind swimming in the haze of pleasure and want. slowly, obediently, you parted your lips, tongue flicking out to wet them just before his fingers slid into your mouth. the taste was warm, messy—you, tangled with him—and the sound that escaped you was soft, shameless, utterly desperate.

caleb’s groan rumbled low in his throat, eyes darkening as he watched every motion, every subtle shift of your tongue curling around his fingers. “god, you look so pretty like this,” he rasped, dragging those soaked fingers out with a sharp pop that echoed in the quiet room. “dumb little mouth wrapped around what’s mine.”

you whimpered, the sound raw and fragile, knees trembling as they brushed his in the cramped space. your body sagged into his, burning and unsteady, craving his touch like air. then that smirk—slow, sharp, slicing through the tension like a knife dragged through silk. his voice dropped even lower, slow and deliberate, thick with dark amusement. “think we’re done?”

your breath hitched, caught in your throat as his eyes bore into yours, unblinking and heavy with promise. the room seemed to pulse around you, heat swelling in your skin, every nerve ending screaming alive. you tried to shake your head, but your voice was barely a whisper, broken and trembling: “n-no—please…”

his fingers curled in a slow, possessive grip against your jaw, tilting your face up so your lips hovered just inches from his. “behave,” he murmured, voice rough like gravel. “because i’m nowhere near finished with you.”

his mouth claimed yours again, teeth grazing your lower lip as his hands gripped your hips, holding you so tightly it was almost painful—but you didn’t care. you were already melting into him, breath shallow and fast, heart hammering against your ribs like a warning bell.

without hesitation, he ripped open his fireproofs, pulling out his thick, heavy cock, already leaking thick beads of precum, flushed red from holding back for too long. he shifted, pressing the full length of himself inside you, inch by agonizing inch, his body a hot, solid weight that filled every space. your breath hitched sharply, a stuttered moan slipping free as your walls stretched and clenched around him, tight and trembling.

your body jolted—smack!—as he bottomed out in one punishing motion. he didn’t stop to let you adjust. he just started fucking you. hard.

“is this what you needed?” he snarled, teeth at your throat again, biting down—hard. “some real fucking? not the attention of some weak little paddock rat.”

you sobbed, arms flying to his shoulders, clawing for purchase. he drove into you over and over, hips snapping up—wet noises echoing through the room. your slick ran down your thighs, onto his, then pooling onto the floor.

“fuck, you’re mine,” he growled into your hair, voice thick with need and possession. His hips slammed harder, faster, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “say it. say it or i’ll fill you up and walk out without another word.”

“i—i’m yours!” you sobbed, legs trembling. “caleb, please—i’m yours, i’m yours! a-always yours!” another slap to your ass—sharp, loud. then his hand gripped your hair, yanked your head back, and his teeth sank into your shoulder—deep, a bite so hard it made stars dance behind your eyes.

“you wear my number. my colors. my fucking name on your back. not that mclaren shit or anything else. never fucking again.” caleb’s hips slammed harder, faster, each thrust a brutal claim that sent your body shuddering beneath him. his teeth grazed your collarbone, sinking in deeply with a savage bite that left a bruised crescent burning hot against your skin. You gasped, head thrown back, breath shattering into sharp sobs that mixed pain and pleasure so fiercely your whole body trembled uncontrollably.

“fucking feel that, yeah?” he growled against your skin, voice thick with venomous hunger. your hands ripped down his sides, nails clawing cruel lines along his ribs as caleb dragged his teeth lower—trail of sharp bites blooming bruises along the curve of your tits, marking you with brutal possessiveness. “you think that idiot could ever fuck you like this? make you cry out, beg, lose your goddamn mind? no chance.”

you whimpered, caught between sobs and desperate moans, hips jerking instinctively with every ruthless stroke. “n-no—! only you, caleb! please—fuck, please mmm—!” your voice broke, breath hitching in a ragged stutter as your muscles clenched around him tighter, convulsing in waves of scorching overstimulation that stole your ability to think straight.

“bark f’me, sweet girl,” his teeth sank deep into your hip, biting down hard enough to draw a gasp, pleasure twisting with pain in a raw knot of sensation that made you cry out and claw at his back. “say you’re mine. my filthy little wreck, mine.”

“’m yours! yours, caleb!” you sobbed, body trembling, tears stinging your eyes as relentless orgasms crashed over you, folding you in a violent, layered tangle of ecstasy. your voice came out breathless and shattered, “please, don’t stop! i—i’m gonna—f-fuck, i’m gonna—please, i’m c-cummin’!”

“tell me,” he snarled against your neck, voice low, dark, teeth grazing skin like a threat, “tell me who you’re cummin’ for. me or that pretty little fucker?”

his hips snapped up cruelly, deep and fast, dragging a sob from your lips. his hand stayed locked tight around your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who owned every gasp, every tremble.

“you!” you cried out, voice cracking on the edge of desperation. your nails dug into the fireproofs still half-wrapped around his waist. “you, sir—only you, ah, fuckkk—!”

he grinned, vicious and possessive, like your surrender was his prize. “yeah?” he hissed, slamming into you again. “say it louder. make sure even that bastard hears it next race.” caleb didn’t slow. if anything, he fucked you harder, rough and relentless, like he was trying to erase any trace of rafayel from your body—if there’d ever been any. one hand gripped your hip bruisingly tight, the other still curved under your jaw, forcing your teary eyes to hold his.

“damn right,” he growled, sweat-slick and flushed, but no less in control. “say my name. not ‘sir.’ not ‘please.’ mine.”

your whole body jerked with each thrust, barely able to keep upright, tears streaking your cheeks. “caleb—! caleb, i’m—i’m yours, i swear—”

“louder,” he barked, voice edged in a snarl. “c’mon, sweetheart. want you hoarse for me. want that voice ruined so you can’t say shit to anyone else.”

you shattered then—crying his name, choking on your moan as your body seized, shaking, breaking apart in his hands like it always did. and he didn’t let up. not when you came, not when your body tried to squirm away from the overstimulation.

“too much?” he murmured mockingly, breath hot against your temple. “too bad. i haven’t had enough yet. not till i’m sure he knows you walk funny tomorrow ‘cause of me.”

he crushed his mouth to yours, swallowing your desperate sounds with a hungry roar, his fingers digging deep into your hips as he drove you harder over the edge. your walls fluttered around him, clenching and pulsing uncontrollably as you teetered on the brink—then tipped.

your body convulsed violently, a flood of sensation so fierce it wracked every nerve ending. you cried out, a broken, trembling sound filled with pure, overwhelming need. his thrusts became more savage, relentless, “mine,” he rasped between clenched teeth, voice thick and harsh as he chased his own climax, “only mine. gonna fill you up so fucking deep you’ll be leaking my cum for days.”

the force of him stole your breath again as another orgasm ripped through you, your body arching wildly. you trembled, clinging to him, sobbing his name like a prayer. he chased you over the edge, one hand tangled possessively in your hair, the other bruising your waist as he came with a shuddering, broken groan—low, guttural, right against your skin—his teeth sinking into your neck as he spilled hot and thick inside you, every pulse of him a claim you’d never shake.

he stayed still a moment, breathing hard, chest rising and falling, panting like he’d survived a battle. then—slowly—he pulled out. you whimpered at the sudden empty ache, your slick and his own, trailing down your inner thighs.

your body was still quaking when caleb carried you, trembling and ruined, to the couch—his grip bruising, but reverent. his jaw was tight, his breath still shallow from the exertion, and the whole room still reeked of sex and heat and rage. your thighs stuck to his fireproofs, slick and smeared, and your chest rose in ragged, shallow pants as he laid you down like you were something precious—but barely.

"look at you," he muttered, his voice hoarse with raw satisfaction. "still shakin’. you don't even know your own name, do you?"

your only answer was a weak, broken sound—something between a whimper and a plea. he chucked, low and dangerous, fingers brushing your jaw as his other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you open again just to look. but then—he stilled.

his thumb stopped where it had been tracing, reverent in its own brutal way. his gaze, once burning with hunger, flickered—hesitating. you blinked through the haze clouding your vision, and there he was again: caleb, not the fire-eyed predator but the boy who used to hold your hand under the covers during thunderstorms, the boy who always laced your shoelaces when your fingers were too cold to do it yourself.

“…fuck,” he murmured, and something in his tone cracked open. he exhaled hard and let your thigh fall gently against the couch cushion, his body sinking beside yours, no longer looming—folding. a different kind of tension took its place, quieter, older. his hand cupped your cheek again, softer now, trembling faintly.

"you okay?" he asked, and his voice was lower. wrought with guilt, with fear, with love. "talk to me, love. tell me you’re okay."

you nodded, just barely, then leaned into his palm with a broken little sound. “o-okay…’m okay,” you breathed, voice ragged but true.

he closed his eyes.

for a moment, caleb didn’t say anything. just let his forehead press to yours. his thumb traced the line of your cheekbone like you might vanish if he didn’t keep anchoring you to him. then, with careful arms, he pulled you into his lap—blanketing you in the throw he’d once haphazardly tossed on the couch. your legs curled over his, trembling.

“you’re shaking,” caleb murmured again, his voice low and rough, like gravel coated in velvet. the heat radiating from his body pressed against your back was a fierce, solid warmth that somehow grounded you, but you could still feel the tremors racing through your limbs—shaky, fragile, like you were made of glass. his arms tightened around you, not crushing, but possessive, protective—as if he wanted to keep you from breaking apart entirely.

his lips brushed your skin like a feather in slow, feather-light kisses. first your bare shoulder, where the soft warmth of his mouth left a trail that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. then along the hollow of your collarbone, his breath hot and steady, carrying the faint scent of smoke and sweat from the race—intoxicating and unmistakably him. when his mouth ghosted to the corner of your lips, he paused, lingering like he was memorizing your shape, tasting the faint salt of your skin, the quickening pulse beneath.

“you scare the shit out of me sometimes,” he breathed, voice husky and trembling with emotion, the raw vulnerability undercut by the fire of his obsession. “the way i feel about you... it’s not normal. maybe it’s because… i love you more than you realize.”

his hands roamed slowly now, tracing the lines of your body with a possessive tenderness that set your nerves alight. one palm slid down the curve of your side, fingers pressing into your hip bone, grounding you in the heat between you. the other curled in your hair, thumb brushing your temple softly, coaxing the tension out of your clenched muscles.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, voice rough but gentle. “just be here with me.”

your eyelids fluttered open, meeting his gaze—dark, intense, burning with a hunger that softened only when it landed on you. the sight made your heart squeeze painfully, a sweet ache that spread through your limbs like wildfire.

your fingers twined tightly in the thick fabric of his fireproof suit, heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to break free. you curled into him, the solid beat of his heart against your palm a grounding anchor amid the storm of emotion crashing through you. no words came—only the soft press of your lips against his jaw, the whisper of a kiss that said everything you couldn’t say aloud.

caleb’s breath hitched sharply, eyes darkening with a fierce tenderness as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. his thumb brushed away a tear that had slipped silently down your cheek, his touch so gentle it made your breath catch. his smile was fragile, barely there—but real. like he was offering you a piece of his soul wrapped in vulnerability.

“you’re everything to me,” he confessed, voice thick and laden with something bittersweet, a promise and a curse intertwined. “every lap, every breath, every fucking heartbeat. you ruined me, and i don’t ever want to be put back together.”

his arms squeezed you tighter, possessive and fierce, a silent vow to keep you safe and claim you utterly. the heat from his body seeped deep into your bones, steady and relentless, chasing away the shadows that lingered inside you.

your hand rose to cup his cheek, fingertips tracing the sharp angles of his jaw, memorizing the rough scrape of stubble beneath your touch. “l-love you..i’m yours,” you whispered, voice trembling but resolute. a soft, possessive smile curved his lips. “yeah,” he said, voice low and thick with pride, “only mine.”

when he kissed you this time, it was different—slow and tender, a deep press of lips that spoke of ownership and devotion, not just need. his mouth was warm and soft, roughened by days on the track and sleepless nights, and the taste of him—smoky, faintly metallic, and utterly intoxicating—settled deep inside your senses. his hands cradled your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you that you were his, that you belonged here, to him, in this moment.

“sleep,” he murmured against your lips, voice husky but gentle, a soothing promise that wrapped around you like a blanket. “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

your eyelids fluttered closed, sinking fully into the fierce, steady warmth of his arms. his heartbeat thrummed against your back, a wild, unyielding fire that burned only for you—and you let yourself be consumed by it.

caleb didn’t sleep. not for a second.

he stood bare-chested in front of the fire, the room thick with heat and shadows that flickered like ghosts on the walls. the dry crackle of the flames filled the silence, but inside him, a storm still raged—cold, sharp, relentless—but not for you, no, never.

his knuckles bore the faintest traces of dried blood where he'd gripped the wall to steady you, but the ache there was nothing compared to the sharp edge of his hatred for rafayel. the mclaren tee lay crumpled at his feet—a stubborn reminder that wouldn’t fade.

he bent down and picked it up slowly, fingers tightening around the fabric, a silent vow burning hotter than the fire before him. with slow, deliberate movements, his fingers curled around the fabric, pulling it close. he traced the soft cotton absently, the smell faint but familiar, and it stabbed at him like a fresh wound. the color—too bright, too loud—reminded him of everything he hated to admit. he fed the shirt to the flames, watching the orange cotton curl, blacken, and twist in on itself. the smell of scorched cloth filled the room, but it couldn’t burn away the rancor that still coiled tight inside.

he didn’t blink until the last ember faded to ash, eyes cold and unyielding, mind still racing with bitter thoughts.

rafayel had crossed a line.

and caleb’s fire wasn’t ready to die down—not yet, not ever.

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