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lvlybin · 2 days

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𖦹 ̼ ᮫ DUMB AND POETICᘞ̸⠀ ׁ ₊ KIM JI WOONG

૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა when you received your assignment for the professor you would study under for your student teaching, you were ecstatic. and when you met Dr. Kim, things got even better. he was intelligent, helpful, kind, and not to mention extremely handsome. he also seemed to not care about the fact that you were supposed to have no romantic relationship with him. and Jiwoong also seemed to think that you were too dumb to notice all of the things he was doing behind your back. but God forbid if you ever tried to leave him in the same fashion he never hesitated to do with you 18+ MDNI

( short n sweet mini series )

wc 12082 ! 🎧ྀི ♡⸝⸝ kim jiwoong x f!reader , teacher x student teacher, university!au

an a/n 🧾 thank you for all of your guys’ support and patience! didn’t expect to get this carried away with this fic, but o well. this IS NOT PROOFREAD lol, I wanted to get it out so I’ll come back around to editing it soon!

warnings VERY oc Jiwoong (he would never act like this), toxic!Jiwoong, cheating, manipulation, age gap of 5 years, self-doubt, my attempts at writing angst, there’s some lowkey messed up things in this so be warned

18+ warnings unprotected p in v sex, dry humping, nipple play, Jiwoong really likes kissing, lowkey a possession kink

The amount of effort you put into everything was one of the qualities you admired most about yourself. Being hardworking was so satisfying to you, following the rules, and doing what was right. Those things set you on a solid path to follow your dream. Sure, you had never thought you would’ve wanted to become a teacher, but as you got older, you found yourself thriving whenever you spent time with kids. Surprisingly, instead of finding it draining, you were rejuvenated by helping them, and the thought of having a positive impact on such young minds was what ultimately drove you to pursue teaching. Everything that everyone has ever told you about the profession: “The pay doesn’t match the workload,” “You’ll get tired of it before the end of the first year,” “Are you sure you have the patience to work with kids?” never deterred you from it.

You wanted to teach kids about the qualities that were so important to you.

The years of schooling passed by quickly for you, concentrating on becoming the best you could and spending time with your friends to make sure you didn’t miss out on the university experience. And it was fun, the time of graduation seemingly so far away. Until it wasn’t, and the program was beginning to sort out the final hurdle that your class had to get through–student teaching. Teacher assisting, whatever you wanted to call it, the assignments were slowly passed out, and while your peers received locations at surrounding primary and secondary schools, you were one of the few who would work at a university.

“We think that a higher level of education would suit you better. You’re one of the best students we have in this program.” Was what your professors had told you when you’d requested to switch to a primary school. You were flattered, of course, your hard work was being recognized, but you didn’t understand why you would be working with an older group of students that might as well be as old as you when you were studying to work with younger kids.

And your plans to switch anyway were rudely interrupted when the email from the professor you would be working under came through. It was the basics: excited to be working with you, this is what we’re doing this semester, here’s what I need you to prepare for… etcetera. Signed Dr Kim. Maybe it was a bit immature of you to complain to your friends about this opportunity, but you proceeded to despite it.

Giselle’s eyes widened when you mentioned who you were studying under.

“Are you being serious?”

You had furrowed your eyebrows and nodded, confused at her surprised tone.

“YN-ie, Dr Kim is like, a big deal– didn’t even know he took student teachers…”

You huffed out a breath, annoyed as you scribbled over your notes a bit. “Yeah, well, then you can have him. All I wanted was to work with some primary students but nooo–”

“Older kids won’t be half the trouble little kids will be,” Giselle mumbled, and you figured she was probably thinking about her own assignment.

“Little kids wouldn’t judge me half as much as these older kids will,” you countered and that was that.

The thought still circled around your mind as you arrived at the university for your first day, nerves practically eating you alive as you navigated your way to Dr Kim’s classroom. Your parents had always taught you to be earlier than necessary, and thank goodness for that, considering it took you a good twenty minutes to find the room. You knew this place was big, but you thought that the online map would’ve been at least a bit more helpful. After asking one janitor and two other professors where Dr Kim’s room was, you finally approached the door.

Softly, you tapped your knuckles against the wood a few times. On the other side, a warm voice called out, “It’s open!” Another rush of adrenaline ran through you as you sucked in a deep breath, gripping the papers of the requirements for your program in one of your hands as you pushed open the door.

That breath was instantly stolen from you as you peeked inside, the man sitting at the desk in the corner of the room was more attractive than any other person you’d met before. Like an idiot, you stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes trailing over his sharp facial features, the curve of his pale pink lips, the way his glasses were sat on his nose, and how his dark hair was pushed back in a way that was clearly careless to him but looked anything but. You tried to ignore how his white button-up shirt clung to his arms and chest as he turned in his chair to look over at you. Suddenly, you felt very self-conscious about the black blouse and brown dress pants you were wearing.

“Ms Kang?” You blinked harshly as his uttering of your last name snapped you out of your thoughts.

A smile forces its way onto your lips as you take a step into the hall, closing the door gently behind you. “Yes, hi, nice to meet you,” you say, tilting your head in a small bow. You think your brain short circuits as he smiles back at you, but you can’t really tell.

Dr Kim leans back in his chair, “Nice to meet you too. Are you excited for your first day?”

No, you think to yourself as you remain across the room from him.

Instead, you keep the smile up as you nod slightly. “I’m excited. Mostly nervous though.”

He chuckles as he gestures for you to come over to his desk. The sound of the heels of your shoes clicking on the floor resounds throughout the space as you approach him. Unfortunately, he’s even more perfect up close. “Don’t be. You’ll be great, not that I’m having you do much today anyway.” You do your best to follow his words, eyes flicking everywhere but his own.

You miss the way Dr Kim tilts his head a little. “Hey,” he says, his voice the epitome of comfort to you already, and your eyes finally move to meet his. It’s difficult for you to decipher what he’s thinking, to tell if the caring gleam in his dark irises is real or not. “I’ll be here to help you. You’ll be great,” he repeats and you nod a little.

“Not to sound ungrateful, but I was supposed to be working with younger kids,” you laugh softly and the smile on Dr Kim’s lips doesn’t fade in the slightest.

“You want to work with primary students then?” You nod and he lets out a little sound of acknowledgment. “Well, Ms Kang, from what I’ve heard about you is that you’re exceptionally bright for your age.”

“I’m not–”

He cuts you off, “Ah, none of that.” Dr Kim extends a hand towards you, gesturing towards the bag on your shoulder. “You can just put that in my office and then come back out here. I’m excited to begin working with you.”

You don’t think the flush on your face goes anywhere for the rest of the day. Dr Kim told the truth, for the first day you barely did anything except pass out materials and help him organize things, but it was plenty for you. Thankfully, none of the students seemed to be too interested in you, all focused on the material of the class. And you found yourself falling into the same trap.

It was easy to understand why Dr Kim had the reputation he did, the way he spoke captured everyone effortlessly. You could tell he was intelligent and he was so well-spoken that he made even the most boring material seem interesting. The end of the teaching day was there before you could process it.

Small talk was made between you and Dr Kim as you stood at the podium at the side of the room, collecting and sorting through lecture notes from the day as he sat at his desk, grading something that according to him was from the previous week. As you finish, you glance over at him, collecting the papers in your hands before walking back over to his desk.

“All done,” you say quietly, setting the stack down on the corner of the furniture. Dr Kim looks briefly over at you as he nods his head once.

“Thank you for helping me with that.”

You laugh a little, “It’s my job.”

He smiles, “I know it’s your job, but I wanted you to know that I appreciate you helping me with these things.” Dr Kim pauses for a moment before continuing. “Good job today, I’ll have you get more involved as the week goes on. Hopefully, by next week you’ll be ready to teach some of the lessons.”

“Sounds good,” you agree. A beat of silence.

“And… I want you to know that I’m here to help you if you need anything,” Dr Kim says and when he looks up at you, you have to push away the way your heart speeds up. “I want to know if you’re struggling, if you don’t understand something, if you have any worries.” The soft look in his eyes appears again, and you can tell this time–it’s true. “This can be a hard career to be in, for many reasons, and I want to be someone for you to lean on.”

You nod again, feeling your face warm up just a bit, and you hope he thinks it’s just the blush that you’d put on that morning. “Of course.”

There’s a satisfied look on his face as he turns back to his monitor. “You can head home for the night, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Slightly dazed, you quickly retrieve your bag from his office before going to leave.

“See you tomorrow, Dr Kim! Have a good night,” you call to him as you open the door to his classroom.

“You too,” you hear him say. “And YN?” The use of your first name stuns you a bit, for more reasons than one, and you glance over your shoulder to look at him.

“Yes?”

“Call me Jiwoong.” Suddenly, the students judging you was no longer your main concern.

The rest of the week passes by in a blur, and you find yourself meeting those expectations that Jiwoong was hoping for. Students began letting you help them with things they didn’t understand, Jiwoong was letting you sit next to him and watch as he graded papers (no matter how boring it seemed), and you found yourself becoming comfortable. Any doubts you’d had about working with university students melted away because, not to jinx yourself, but it was surprisingly easy. Especially with Jiwoong helping you every step of the way.

You weren’t faring any better with his presence, every little compliment he gave you only made your cheeks warm as you would try to stifle a smile and avoid eye contact. Not that you would see the way he didn’t bother trying to hide how the corners of his lips rose. Because if you did, the small crush you had would only grow. You hated admitting it, but yes, it was a crush. A small, tiny, school-girl crush that you were positive at least half of Jiwoong’s female students had on him as well. It almost couldn’t be helped–he was so kind, he handled you with such ease, and he was so knowledgeable.

There was one night when you’d stayed with him in his classroom as it grew dark outside, expressing your worries for your future. Maybe it was wrong to open up in the way you had to someone who was supposed to be your mentor, your superior, but you had anyway. There was just something about him that made you feel so comfortable, so safe. You trusted him easily, and you barely began to notice the way things were progressing.

About two weeks after you’d begun student teaching, Jiwoong had messaged you late on a Saturday night.

The text itself wasn’t anything that should’ve been suspicious or out of the ordinary, just an update on a task he wanted you to complete over the weekend, it was the time he’d sent it at. Almost one in the morning. Against your better judgment, you’d asked him why he was up so late.

Dr Kim, Student Teaching Program

Sometimes I lose track of time when I’m grading things.

Sorry if I woke you up.

His response comes quickly, and you roll over in your bed as you think of how to respond.

No, it’s okay. I was up anyway

Dr Kim, Student Teaching Program

You should be sleeping.

The smile that fights its way onto your lips almost makes you forget that this man is five years your senior, and technically your teacher.

Too many assignments that I don’t understand that need to be done by Monday.

Dr Kim, Student Teaching Program

Call me.

So you did, and for half an hour he did help you with the work you had been struggling through, but eventually, the topics began to change. What did you do that night? What did you have for dinner? What are you doing tomorrow?

Jiwoong spoke to you like you were an old friend of his, and you hated the way it made you feel. It made you feel important to him, like he was telling you things he wasn’t sharing with anyone else and confiding in you. Even if it was just the type of wine he’d been drinking that night. The hours ticked on, and eventually, his voice grew just a bit husky, cluing you into how he was probably getting tired.

“I’m gonna take your advice and go to bed,” you say softly into the device, your phone lying next to your head on your pillow.

The noise he makes almost sounds like a protest. “What? It’s only… almost four in the morning, jeez–” You laugh softly, feeling your eyes droop. A moment of silence passes between the two of you. “Stay on the phone with me. Please.”

Somewhere in your dazed mind, you know if you were more awake then you would probably be kicking your feet while your heart would beat wildly. “I don’t know…” you mumble, eyes closed now.

“No, please, YN. Just… I like talking with you.”

You sniffle softly, not completely processing his words as you think about how your allergies must be acting up again. “Okay,” you breathe, giving up easily. Jiwoong lets out a breath of relief from the other side of the phone. “‘M gonna go to sleep, though.”

There’s a hint of a smile in his voice as he speaks up again, “You can go to sleep, sweet girl, I’ll stay on the phone with you.” The nickname makes your breath hitch. It feels like those two little words have erased almost every boundary between the two of you, and you nod even though he can’t see you.

“Good night, Jiwoong.”

“Sweet dreams, sweet girl–” You drift off before you hear the rest of his sentence.

The next morning, when you wake up, your phone is dead and you curse at yourself a little for forgetting to plug it in before you fell asleep. As you get up to brush your teeth and wash your face, you plug it in, and when you return, you notice the single message from Jiwoong from about an hour ago.

Dr Kim, Student Teaching Program

I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. It won’t happen again.

The words are sweet and they make you feel giddy as you unlock your phone.

Not at all! It was nice, my phone just died cause I didn’t have it plugged in :(

Was the frowny face professional? Absolutely not, but neither was falling asleep on the phone with the professor that you were currently studying under. And when he sends back a smiley face, you can’t help but let the thought of him possibly returning your small crush grow a bit.

A little bit of worry creeps in as well as you think about the consequences that could come along with this, but you brush them off before you can consider it for too long. You trusted Jiwoong, he knew what was right and what was wrong. After all, you recall an hour-long conversation the two of you had had about his love for self-help books. If something went too far, he would stop it.

Repeating that thought to yourself is what helps you pluck up enough courage to accept his request to call again that night. And the night after that after you had stayed till almost eight at night in his classroom with him. The two of you hadn’t even gotten any work done, opting for talking about anything and everything as he skimmed the same essay at least ten times.

White noise from your ceiling fan fills your room as you stare at the blades, watching as they spin around and around while you listen to Jiwoong talk about some movie that is coming out soon that he wants to see.

“Is this wrong?” you ask him abruptly when he finishes his sentence. On the other side of the line, he’s quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“For us to be on the phone like this…” you trail off as Jiwoong chuckles a little.

“No. I’m making sure you’re getting the proper amount of sleep you need, remember?”

You scoff, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Cause you’re so boring.”

“You would not still be talking to me the way you do if I was boring.” There’s a double meaning to his words. You’re not dumb, you can tell, especially after working with Literature majors for what was nearing a month.

“...You know what I mean.”

Jiwoong hums, “I do.” His effortless acknowledgment of the subject has you reeling. How could he be so casual about this? Like he couldn’t get in trouble if someone found out about the way you two had been interacting outside of the workplace? “It’s not wrong. We’re both adults.”

“But you’re technically my teacher…”

You feel like you said the wrong thing as soon as the words leave your mouth. Like acknowledging it was making it all seem too real for him, and you hear Jiwoong sigh softly. “Not really.”

You open your mouth to speak but before you do, Jiwoong continues. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, and I know this situation isn’t… ideal. That is, if you feel the same way I do.”

It was like everything else was forgotten for you. Everything about how this shouldn’t be happening in the slightest, how either one of your careers could be ruined if someone ever found out about this leaving your mind because it was just you and Jiwoong now. Jiwoong. Not Dr Kim.

Your heart is racing as you speak softly into the phone, “How do you feel?”

The way he doesn’t say anything at first tells you he’s thinking deeply. Probably considering how to word things without making things seem more taboo than they already were. For a moment, it’s almost like he’s there with you–you can see his dark brown irises and the thin curve of his upper lip, and you can smell one of the custom blends of cologne he loves creating so much. You close your eyes and listen to his breathing, pretending that he’s lying right next to you.

“I like you. A lot,” he says plainly, the man that you know to be so poetic with his words suddenly gone. “You’re the highlight of my day, the person that I rely on to make everything better even though you don’t realize it. I want to see you all of the time, not just in the professional setting.”

You don’t know what to say, don’t know what to think, your thoughts a muddled mess of everything you believed to be right and everything that you had deemed wrong. This didn’t feel real. You must’ve fallen asleep. You pinch your thigh softly as you continue staring at the back of your eyelids. There was no way this wasn’t a dream.

“I keep picturing you across the table from me at a nice restaurant because a girl like you should be spoiled. I want to experience new things with you, I want to watch you achieve your dreams and grow as a person. I… I want to see you when I come home in my t-shirt with dinner ready, and I want to watch you fall asleep, and be there when you wake up–”

“Jiwoong,” you interject. “Come pick me up.”

When he arrives at your apartment, you don’t bother changing out of your pajamas as you lock the door behind you, rushing to the elevator and out into the parking lot. The air feels heavy with humidity as you spot Jiwoong’s car. Every shred of hesitance you have is gone, as you get into his car, breathing heavily as you make eye contact with him. It wasn’t just the temperature that was making you feel warm anymore, it was this feeling between the two of you as he put the car into drive and took you back to his place.

You couldn’t even describe it. Tension wasn’t the right word because it felt like so much more than that. Like you had found the right place to fit your soul and it was being kept from you. Like you were the positive end of a magnet being pulled away from the negative side. You never thought you’d be able to feel so deeply for someone, but as Jiwoong’s hand slips into your own and he guides you into his apartment, the concept of loving someone more than yourself suddenly makes sense to you.

Regret is the last thing on your mind when your back hits the door and his lips are meeting yours. The rim of his glasses knocks against your nose a bit, but all you can feel is his hands gripping the skin of your waist. Jiwoong kisses you like he’s done it before, handling your body against his like you’re all he’s ever known. His tongue gently explores your mouth, his teeth biting down a little on your lower lip as he pulls away to rest his forehead on yours.

“Do you want this?”

You let out a deep breath, “Yes.”

He kisses you deeply again, and you taste the wine he must’ve been drinking before calling you. Jiwoong’s hands are careful as he pushes you back towards his bedroom, laying you back on his bed and the look in his eyes is one that you don’t want anyone else to see as he removes your shoes.

They’re practically glowing as they trail back up to your face, his cheeks are the same color as rosebuds and his lips are swollen from the way he’d been working them against your mouth. Hesitantly, you reach up, fingers removing his glasses from his face. The action is almost domestic, as if it was something you’d done together countless times before. When he blinks softly, you can tell his vision is adjusting, probably a little fuzzy without the aid of his prescription.

His pupils are blown and his lips are slightly parted and, yeah, you don’t want anyone else to see him like this.

Jiwoong lowers himself back over you, body already acting on instinct as he leans to kiss you again. The feeling of the minimal amounts of your skin on his, his scent filling your mind, his hands coming up to hold your face to him as he deepens the kiss has you clutching onto his glasses still in your hand pathetically. His tongue practically licks into your mouth and your heart races at the feelings coursing through you.

“So good… You taste so good…”

“Jiwoong–” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him as his lips continue moving against yours. His taste takes over you as his tongue slowly flicks over your lower lip, gently requesting entry for an even deeper kiss.

“You’re so good. I can’t get enough of you. My sweet girl,” he says against your mouth, each syllable muffled by the gentle press of his tongue against yours as his hands slowly glide down your sides, softly tracing over your frame.

All of your rationale is consumed by desire as you press closer to him, his hands trailing down to your hips as he flips over, helping to maneuver you onto his lap. When you feel his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts and dig into your flesh over the thin fabric of your underwear.

“I tried, I tried so hard to resist you. But I can’t help it, YN, I want to enjoy you. Want to feel you.” Jiwoong’s voice is thick with need as he looks at you.

You nod softly. You’ve never wanted anything so badly before. “Please,” you agree.

Jiwoong smiles as you speak. “Do you really want this?”

Trying to think clearly for a moment, you do your best to think of what this could result in. This wasn’t just going to be a one-time thing, you knew that, and you still had a few months left for your student-teaching. But you cared about Jiwoong. You cared about him and you knew that you could make this work. You weren’t dumb.

So, you nod a little again, “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Promise to tell me if you want to stop?”

His nose bumps against yours as he speaks, arms encircling you tighter, his body slowly pushing up to you. Your hands find his face again as he leans back against the pillows by his headboard. “I promise.”

Your heart flutters when his hands slip under the bottom of your shirt. “I’ll be gentle, and I’ll stop whenever you want, I just want to hold you and– and feel you–”

He cuts himself off with a low groan, your hips subconsciously rolling down onto his. You’re glad for the thin layers of clothing you’re wearing as you watch his head tilt back. Jiwoong’s breathing quickens as he moves his fingers down your spine, body continuing to push closer to you and you can feel the outline of his dick through his sweatpants, his length pressing up into your clit easily.

“You want me?”

Jiwoong responds instantly, bodies still moving gently against one another with an underlying need. “I want you. I want this, I want more–” He seems to regain a bit of his control as he lifts your shirt over your head, your skin bare beneath it and his fingers go up to flick at your nipples instantly. You jerk against him, the added sensations making your body move desperately to get more friction on your clit.

“From the first time I saw you,” Jiwoong begins against your skin as he moves his lips from your cheek to your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “I knew you were going to drive me crazy because I couldn’t have you but– God, but you’ll let me have you anyway right?”

You moan weakly, feeling the wetness begin to build up in your panties, “Yes!”

One of his hands leaves your tit to go to your neck, tracing over a bite mark he’d left on the flesh. His voice has a hint of a tremble in it as his breathing becomes heavier, “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything more than I want you. I can’t resist you, can you feel it? Can you feel how much I want you?”

You can, you’re grinding down onto him and it must be painful–how much he wants you.

“I want to hear you, sweet girl, I want to hear you moan, and cry out.” He pinches your nipple softly and you yelp, feeling that coil in your stomach begin to tighten. “I want to see you come undone.”

His hands push you further down in his lap as you let out a plea of his name, teetering right on the edge. It’s pathetic, honestly, he’s barely done anything and you’re still so close. But you’re so pent up from his teasing and his words and how beautiful he is. His smell, his words, how easy this all feels.

“Don’t hold back, YN, it’s okay… I want you to feel good.” You grip at his shoulders desperately, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm hits you suddenly. “There we go, baby, come for me. You’re doing so well.”

Jiwoong doesn’t give you a moment to breathe, moving you so you take his spot against the pillows while he removes his clothing. If you didn’t feel so dazed, you would be able to appreciate the sight of his bare torso more, the way the muscles ripple under his skin as he moves on to his sweatpants. When he’s just in his boxers, Jiwoong presses his lips to your neck again.

He continues to kiss and nibble against the skin, taking his time and enjoying you, just like he said he would. The thought makes your thighs press together, another wave of arousal already passing through you again. You press your face into his hair, breathing in his scent as his teeth meet your neck. Jiwoong lets out a soft, shuddering sigh as you press your nose into the strands, his hands going back to traveling over your bare torso, circling your nipples.

“You’re mine?” His voice is thick with emotion, his words almost slurred as his mouth travels downwards to capture one of the buds in his mouth, suckling it softly and making you whine. You press a hand over your mouth, biting against it and muffling a moan as his hands move over your stomach and near the edge of your panties. He squeezes your hips, biting the bundle of nerves he has between his lips softly.

“Don’t muffle it, baby, I want to hear you.”

Everything about this feels so intimate. Like you’ve never reached this level of connection with another person, and all you can do is continue thinking of him. Your thoughts simply being: Jiwoong, Jiwoong, Jiwoong.

He’s removing your shorts along with your panties, “That’s a good girl… I want to feel more, come on, sweet girl, are you okay? Do you want to go further? You’re doing so well.”

“Yes, I want more,” you respond instantly. You’d be a fool not to and your heart steadies when you glance down to see the smile on his lips.

“You’re doing so well, my sweet girl, I’m so proud of you.” Jiwoong places one last kiss on your stomach before he leans up to kiss your lips again. Your head is swimming with desire, from being with him, from tasting his skin, from feeling him close to you like this.

You suck in a deep breath when he parts from you. “You can keep going.” His fingers brush over your ribs as he holds your face again, mouth pressing firmly against yours, exploring every inch of you as your bodies meld together. Everything feels so warm and it’s getting hard to breathe, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Please, Woongie, I want it–” The only thing separating your entrance from his cock is the material of his boxers, and you reach down to fumble with the waistband. Jiwoong chuckles softly, lips moving over your jaw. When you finally succeed in pushing them down enough to free his length, he slowly pulls back to look at you.

Jiwoong’s thumb runs over your lips at a speed that truly shows his control. “I want to be the only one who can make you feel like this.” You part your lips, taking the digit into your mouth. He lets out a low, soft moan as you swirl your tongue around his thumb, his eyes closing briefly before he opens them again. His gaze is the darkest you’ve ever seen it as he slides his finger out and away from your tongue.

“I want to be closer to you,” he trails off as he pecks your shoulder, and you groan when you finally feel the thickness of his tip run through your folds a few times before it finally gets caught on your entrance. “I want to know everything about you, want to explore every inch of you, to feel every part of you… I want to know what makes you feel good, how you like to be touched… kissed, every sound you make when I make you feel good.”

His mouth kisses over the shell of your ear as he speaks, “You’re mine. I want you, I want you so badly.”

“I know– I trust you.” It’s the last thing you get out before he’s stretching you open. The thickness of him fills you perfectly, every movement from him making you want to forget taking a moment to adjust and let him fuck you. His mouth is right next to your ear and you can hear every little breath, every little strained whimper leave him as you clench around him, shaping yourself to the shape of his cock.

Finally, after a moment of letting his hips sit against yours, enjoying the feeling of being connected, you whine. “Move, move, you can move–”

It doesn’t take him long to listen to you, thrusts beginning slow and deep as you cry out. His hands trail up and back down your side as he pushes into you at a pace that makes you want to sob from frustration. You feel your head spin as his mouth travels over your neck, lips pressed against your cheek before he kisses you again.

He starts moving a bit more, thrusts sharp as he quickly finds that little mushy spot inside of you, rubbing against it again and again to the point where you’re feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

“I’d do anything to have you like this. Always.” You barely register his words, the sound of skin slapping and the wetness of your juices almost drowning them out. Weakly, your fingers curl into his sheets as his pace slows, hips rolling against yours. “I want to be closer to you– closer, I need to feel you more.”

“How–” you get out before Jiwoong’s pulling you up towards him, holding your body against his tightly as his dick gets even deeper inside of you. His movements are shallow, but it feels like he’s in your stomach, and your moans are getting more and more strained as your throat begins to feel raw.

“Look,” he breathes, hand in your hair as he forces you to see where your bodies meet. The sight has you squeezing around him, the build-up already beginning in your lower abdomen again. Your poor clit looks so swollen as your walls stretch to swallow him with each of his movements, a ring of white settling at the base of his cock each time he fully enters you. “You’re so good for me.”

Your body continues pressing against his, and you cry out loudly, eyes squeezing shut.

“S’good… Lift your head back up– I want… I want to be able to–” He stops mid-sentence, his movements beginning to speed back up as he grips you tighter. You try to listen to him, but you think that your muscles are spasming as his mouth meets yours in a messy, passionate kiss. You can feel his body shaking, and you know he’s getting close too.

Jiwoong’s hands release you, and you fall back to lay against the pillows again, lower back arching to try and find his touch again. “Can’t–”

“You can, sweet girl… It’s okay, my baby, be good for me,” he speaks slowly, his words heavy with lust. “Be a good girl– Do it for me.”

“Okay,” you cry a little. Another soft moan slips from Jiwoong’s lips as he tries to get as close as possible to you again, moving his mouth near your ear.

“I’m almost there– Can I… Do you want–”

“Yeah, inside,” you breathe, chest heavy with the labored movement of sucking in air. And it’s barely a few more seconds before your high hits you. The sensation is so strong that your vision goes black for a moment, missing the way that Jiwoong’s eyes lock onto your face, hearing his name spill from your throat as his hips push against yours one last time. His hands grip your waist and his mouth opens with a loud groan of your name as he comes, body shaking lightly as he continues to hold onto you.

You feel warm as his body collapses, the weight comforting as the fuzziness from your orgasm begins to morph into exhaustion. You feel safe, like nothing could hurt you as he laughs shakily, kissing your cheek before he gets up to clean you up. You feel loved when he gets back in bed with you, cuddling you against him.

You don’t feel any regret at all when you wake up the next morning.

Later that week, Jiwoong takes you out on a date. Well, you can’t call it a date. He calls it a “professional meeting” as a joke because nothing about it is professional at all. Not the expensive restaurant he takes you to or how he pays for your meal or how the conversation is much too friendly for a teacher assistant and the professor she’s studying under. Especially not the way he fingers you as he drives you back to your apartment.

The nightly calls continue and so does staying later in his classroom. Things feel like they’re progressing at the normal rate for a relationship. Things feel like a normal relationship and suddenly, a month has gone by.

And you decide to bring it up.

“Are we dating?” you ask him one night, sat next to him at his desk per usual. You had just begun to grade small assignments from students on your own, Jiwoong checking over them once you were done, and he glances over your shoulder at the piece you’re working on. He doesn’t say anything. “Jiwoong.”

“I heard you,” he acknowledges before falling silent again.

Confusion enters your emotions as he continues working, completely ignoring your question. “So…” Suddenly, he groans, removing his glasses and rubbing over his face with one of his hands in a very dramatic fashion. You’re surprised at the reaction, to say the least, feeling your face scrunch up in the way he whined like a child. “What?” you press.

“YN, you know that’s not possible.”

You feel like you’ve been shocked. “So you’ll fuck me and take me out on dates but you won’t make me your girlfriend?”

“First of all, those aren’t dates–” You scoff, leaning back in your chair as you stare at him in disbelief. “And second of all, I’m technically your teacher– it just, a relationship wouldn’t work right now.”

You remember using those words towards him. You hate how he’s using them back towards you, it makes a weird feeling settle in your gut that you can’t really explain. What makes you feel worse is the way he slips his glasses back on and goes back to work like it was nothing.

“What about after I graduate?”

“That’s a ways away.”

“Okay… well, I want a future with you and I want to know where things stand–”

“And I told you where they stand, so drop it.” His tone is sharp, a timbre he’s never used on you before. Usually, he was so gentle with you, and the rudeness in his voice is something you’re not used to, making you shrink back a little.

After breathing heavily for a moment you continue, “Fine.”

“Don’t get short with me.”

Maybe you’re being a little petty. “I’m not being short, Jiwoong, I’m agreeing with you.”

You go back to the paper you’re reading, gripping your pen tightly as you consider what needs to be fixed. Anger is an emotion that you’re not fond of, you hate the way you let it control you, and you try not to focus on the emotion as Jiwoong sits silently next to you. Things feel cold all of a sudden, like a wall had been put up between the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” Jiwoong says abruptly, voice soft. You look back up at him to find him holding his hand out to you. Your eyes flick down to his outstretched hand, then back to his face. “Obviously I’ve never been in this situation before. I want to be careful with how we go about this, and I don’t want to date you privately–I want to show you off. It’s what you deserve.”

“It’s okay to have reservations, but I don’t want to waste my time if you can’t see this going anywhere,” you explain, voice matching his. Jiwoong nods in a way you think is supposed to show he understands you.

“Let’s give it a bit more time, okay? There’s no need to rush into things,” he says. And then he smiles a little, and you hate the way it instantly comforts you. Fighting back your own smile, you bite your tongue, which he notices, and proceeds to smile wider. “I care about you, and you care about me. Isn’t that all that matters right now?”

Begrudgingly, you place your hand in his and his fingers wrap around it, squeezing softly, “I guess.”

Against your better judgment, you stop fighting the smile. “Let me take you out tomorrow.” And you agree, because you think you’ve fallen in love with him.

When you arrive at his classroom the next morning, Jiwoong’s speaking with another one of the girls in your program. From the way her hair flows behind her perfectly and her tall height, you know it’s Xiaoting. You haven’t spoken to the girl a lot, but you know she’s very intelligent, or else she wouldn’t be assisting at the same university as you. Quietly, you slip into Jiwoong’s office, setting your bag down while trying not to interrupt their conversation. You stay in the room as you try to watch them through the crack in the door, trying to not make it apparent that you were attempting to eavesdrop. But she’s not there for much longer, and the blush on her cheeks is telling enough, along with her smile as she nods farewell.

That sinking feeling is back in your stomach again, and your heart feels heavy as you exit Jiwoong’s office, trying to look casual as the ugly feeling of jealousy grows within you. He greets you as usual, and you decide to take that as enough reassurance that everything is fine.

Everything is fine as the two of you joke throughout the day, as the two of you talk and work together. Everything is fine as he drives you back to your apartment, telling you he’ll pick you up at eight. Everything is fine as you get ready to go out and everything is fine as you sit on your couch, watching as the clock hits the time he’s supposed to meet you.

Maybe it’s traffic. Maybe he got held up with something else. You try to think of every possible scenario as you sit and wait, letting your mind run wild as you watch the hands of the clock hit nine. And then nine-thirty. When two hours pass you finally get up, trying not to cry as you go get ready for bed.

He hadn’t forgotten. There was no way. He had told you when he was going to pick you up. So what had happened? You want those feelings from the previous days to come back: the anger, the jealousy, but instead all you feel is embarrassment. You feel bad for yourself, and saddened at the fact that the small action that hadn’t even been explained yet chipped away at your trust for the man. You go to bed that night with a heavy heart, a sensation that was slowly becoming familiar to you.

The sound of your alarm is severely unwelcome the next morning. You lay in your bed for a bit, staring at your ceiling fan whirl around hypnotically. It’s easy to debate calling in sick, to want to lay in your bed for the rest of the day and to be dramatic over the fact that you had been stood up. You don’t want to see Jiwoong, but your curiosity gets the better of you. So, you go through the motions of your morning routine, make the drive to the university by yourself, and enter Jiwoong’s classroom to find him alone. You’re silent as you begin preparing the room for the day, even after he approaches you in the confines of his office and tries to give you a quick morning kiss.

A rush of satisfaction goes through you when surprise reads on his face after you dodge his attempt, pushing past him lightly. “YN…”

You don’t respond to him, pretending that you didn’t hear him as you go back into the main section of the classroom.

“YN,” Jiwoong calls again, following you. “Please, what’s wrong?”

Scoffing slightly, you turn to face him. “You really don’t know?”

The clueless expression he sports tells you enough and you press your lips together, nodding slightly. He’d always made you feel important and seen, and now you felt like the complete opposite. “I– wait, YN, I know. I’m sorry–”

“No, you don’t know!” you argue back. “Don’t act like you do, that makes it worse. Standing me up is bad enough, but you can’t even remember the fact that you did it? Do you know how embarrassing that is, Jiwoong?”

He shakes his head softly, trying to approach you again. When his hands try to hold onto yours, you rip them away from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, of course I remember, sweet girl, of course I do– and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. The last thing I want you to feel is embarrassment.” You sniffle softly as you listen to him, and this time, you don’t push him away when his hands go to hold your face. “Something came up, YN, and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t.”

“I want to trust you, Jiwoong, but I can’t–”

“Please believe me, YN, please, I can’t lose you.” Your eyes search his irises for anything that might tell you he’s lying, but all you can see is fear. He might not be telling the truth about what had happened, but he was scared. Scared that you weren’t going to hear him out.

You suck in a deep breath, “What happened?”

“Some teachers decided they wanted to get together and I couldn’t tell them that I already had plans and I didn’t want them to see me texting you and I… I’m sorry, I know it looks bad, but sweet girl, I swear I didn’t do anything to betray your trust.” You weigh his words for a moment as you look at him. If that scenario was true, you could understand where he was coming from. Anyone finding out about this relationship would get you kicked out of the program and cause Jiwoong to probably lose his job.

But that was the thing, you couldn’t tell if this scenario was true.

You wanted to believe him. After all, you loved him and you wanted to believe he would never do anything to hurt you. People always told you you were too forgiving, but you simply just put yourself in their shoes, trying to consider how they were feeling. This was just one mistake Jiwoong had made and when you thought about it, you knew he cared about you. He deserved a second chance.

“Fine.” His entire body relaxes instantly as he lets out a deep breath, pulling you into a tight hug. You feel his nose bury into your hair, inhaling deeply. “But don’t let it happen again. At least text me. Please.”

“It won’t happen again, my sweet girl, I swear.”

His lips press against your hair as he repeats that sentence over and over. And you believe him.

Jiwoong lives up to the promise. He showers you with his affections after that morning, getting you little gifts and taking you out more often. His words are sweet and sound like they could come from Shakespeare himself when he tells you he loves you. Buzzing with excitement and giddiness, you had told him you loved him too. But the thought of you still not being official with him was still planted in the back of your mind. You knew the reasoning, but that didn’t make you feel any better, even as you laid on his chest in his apartment while wearing his shirt.

It became customary for you to spend nights at his apartment after you both said the ‘L-word’. All you wanted to do was see him and to be with him constantly, it didn’t matter what you both were doing. And it seemed like the feeling was returned from him. Jiwoong bought things according to your preferences now and you had a toothbrush that sat next to his. With him, you felt safe, and as time passed, you felt more and more needed by him.

With the weekend finally arriving about three weeks after he stood you up, you had packed a bag, as usual, to go to Jiwoong’s for the weekend. Originally, you had told him you were going to stay back at your apartment and study that night, but as the night went on you missed him more and more. So you’d figured you’d surprise him. Was it crossing a boundary? You couldn’t tell, but you thought that he’d at least be okay with saying hi considering you might as well be his girlfriend at this point. And especially since he loved you.

Standing in front of his apartment door, you knock softly on the wood, forgoing the spare key so you at least wouldn’t barge in and scare him. For a moment nothing happens. You count to ten slowly before knocking again. In his apartment, you hear movement, before there’s the sound of the lock and Jiwoong’s peeking his head out into the hallway.

Your face lights up instantly at the sight of him, hair wet and face flushed. “Hi.”

“YN…” His smile looks forced as he keeps the door mostly shut. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were staying at yours this weekend?”

You take a step closer to the door, waiting for him to let you inside. “Well, I was, and then I was missing you, and I was hoping that you’d let me spend the night, but if not that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, of course, it’s alright, sweet girl, just give me a second to go put some clothes on.”

You think you see a flash of red hair as Jiwoong moves away from the door, closing it behind him quickly. Awkwardly, you stand in the hallway for another five minutes, playing with the strap of your bag as you glance up at the door every now and then. You play up the red hair you thought you saw to your imagination. And from how tired you were. Because who else would be in Jiwoong’s apartment this late at night?

When the door finally opens again, Jiwoong opens it fully, and to your relief, it’s just him. Him in a gray sweater and some pajama pants. He reaches for you, wrapping an arm around you as he kisses your hair. “You tired, sweet girl? It’s pretty late.”

You furrow your eyebrows as he closes the door behind you both. “I guess I could sleep… I was kind of hoping to spend some time with you though–”

“If you’re tired you should go to sleep.”

You laugh a little at the statement, following Jiwoong to his bedroom and dropping your bag on his floor. “Yeah…”

He goes over to his bed, pulling the covers back and motioning for you to crawl in. So you do, cuddling up to his chest like you usually do as he turns on the TV for background noise. For a while, it’s just the two of you talking about whatever, like you usually do, and slowly the tiredness does begin to set in, your eyes drooping as you listen to him ramble on. The soft sound of his voice always does wonders to calm you– a small bump from inside his closet rips that sense away immediately.

“What was that?” you ask, slightly scared.

Jiwoong laughs, pulling you back down to lay on him. “Probably just some shoe boxes that fell over. I’m going through my clothes right now… Why? D’you think it’s a ghost.”

Weakly, you hit his chest, “Very funny.” He chuckles softly once more, grabbing your hand to hold it against him. The lull of his heartbeat gets you to settle back down. Your eyes stay on the screen of the TV as he reaches over to shut off the bedside lamp, casting the room into darkness except for the blue glow from the device in front of his bed.

“I actually have a question for you,” Jiwoong says as you begin to drift off.

“Hmm?”

He pauses, and you know in typical Jiwoong fashion he’s thinking of how to phrase something. “If you’re okay with it… Would you like to officially be my girlfriend?”

The grin finds its way onto your lips easily, and you glance up to look at him. He’s also smiling.

“For real?”

“For real,” he repeats back to you, voice slightly mocking.

You laugh, a sleepy yet loving feeling taking over your heart. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Jiwoong leans down, kissing you softly, and you bask in the sensation of his lips on yours, tongue pressing against yours in a way that somehow feels fond.

He pulls away, resting his cheek on your head, “I love you.”

As you fall asleep, those are the last words you hear, and you quietly repeat them back to him before slipping into unconsciousness. That night, you dream of Jiwoong going back to the entrance of his apartment, hearing him say goodbye to a woman with red hair. When you wake up, he’s still lying right next to you.

You feel so unbelievably happy as the two of you spend the rest of the weekend together and as you both get ready for the day when Monday rolls around. Jiwoong makes breakfast which you happily eat, only for you both to brush your teeth together and for him to sit and watch as you fix your makeup and hair before he drives you both to the university. You feel like you’re floating, like nothing could bring you down as you drop your things off in his office and as he kisses your cheek while you go off to one of the bathrooms.

In the girl’s bathroom is Xiaoting, standing in front of the mirror doing her makeup that she honestly doesn’t need in the slightest. You smile at her briefly, her returning it before you use the toilet and go back to the sink to wash your hands.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder, “Are my eye bags gone?” You glance at her face in the mirror, her skin practically flawless.

“I don’t think they were there to begin with.” The two of you laugh a little as you go to dry your hands.

“Well. I had a long weekend, so I was just double-checking.”

Going back to standing next to her, you watch as she fluffs her eyelashes with one of her fingers. “Was it at least a good weekend? Something about you looks different.”

“Ah, I got my hair done. Red’s cute, but I wanted to go darker for a little.”

You hate the paranoia that shoots through you at the mention of red hair, reminding yourself to trust your boyfriend as you maintain your smile at the older girl, “It’s pretty on you.”

“Thank you,” Xiaoting says sweetly, expression warm. “But, yeah, I had a good weekend. You?”

Subconsciously, your smile becomes a true one. “Um, yeah, the guy I’ve been talking to for a while asked me to be his girlfriend.” Xiaoting lets out a cute gasp that makes you laugh a little.

“Oh, that’s so exciting, happy for you.” She pulls out a lip liner, removing the cap before lifting the product to her lips. “Me, personally, I am taking a break from relationships right now…” she trails off, focusing on her makeup.

You hum softly in acknowledgment, “I thought you were seeing someone though? That’s what Sieun said.”

Xiaoting smirks a little, putting her lip liner away. “Ok, so, don’t tell anyone but I’ve actually been hooking up with one of the professors here.”

“Oh– wow,” you giggle, slightly stunned as Xiaoting nods.

“It’s nothing serious. I think he’s seeing another girl or something, but like– he’s hot and the dick is good so I can’t complain.”

Very girl’s girl of you, you think bitterly, but you can’t blame her. After all, she’s not the only one in a relationship with one of the professors here. “Can I ask who?”

The look she gives you has your stomach turning in a way that makes you almost feel nauseous, “Actually, it’s Dr Kim–”

You don’t hear the rest of the words she says. Everything feels like it goes silent as panic flares up in your chest. Not anger, not sadness, just pure panic because–what did this mean? You think that your hands are trembling as you nod robotically along to her words, cheeks hurting from the way your lips are uncomfortably turned upwards. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening, Jiwoong wouldn’t do this, there was no way. He wouldn’t betray your trust like that. No, Xiaoting was lying, she had to be because Jiwoong loved you.

“YN?” Her voice does little to break you from your thoughts, the shakiness of your panic and nerves still evident as you clasp your hands together.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna get sick.”

“Ah…” You felt like you were going to be sick. You didn’t want to think about this anymore, but everything was starting to make sense: that night he stood you up, the red hair. Had he made you his girlfriend as a distraction? Is that what he was trying to do? You needed to go home. You had to get out of here, you didn’t care about figuring out if the girl next to you was lying or not, you just needed to get out. “I’m… yeah, I’m gonna go home.”

You don’t say anything else to her as you exit the bathroom, everything passing by in a blur as you rush out of the school. Unsure of where you’re even going, you start walking in the direction of the way you think leads to your apartment. You don’t really care though, because that’s when the tears begin to well up.

What had you done? Did you do something? Were you not good enough for him? Was your love not good enough for him? Sucking in small, shallow breaths while trying to calm yourself down, you can’t find it in yourself to care about the rest of the world as people on the sidewalk pass you, looking at you like they were scared of you. Tears slip down your face as you continue walking for an amount of time that you’re not even sure of. You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, but you leave it there because you know who it is and you can’t talk to him. You can’t hear his voice because you know it’ll make everything seem fine again and it wasn’t.

There were small signs. You can’t believe you were dumb enough to ignore them.

You don’t know what time it is when you reach your apartment complex, but when you ride the elevator up to your floor and stand in front of your door, you realize that your keys are in your bag. And your bag is in Jiwoong’s office. It’s like that’s the final straw, and you're sobbing as you struggle with the doorknob. Nothing was fair. Eventually, you pick yourself up enough to go back down to the receptionist to ask for the spare key and she must feel the right amount of pity for you to give you the key without question.

Being in your apartment is a comfort you haven’t felt in a while. Partly because you can lay in your bed for the rest of the day and partly because there’s nothing that reminds you of Jiwoong here. It was always you going to his apartment. The apartment he took all of his girls to.

You don’t bother with checking your phone for the rest of the night, not caring about the way its vibrations have begun to slow down or how it rings before you put it on silent mode and leave it on your kitchen counter. Instead, you use your laptop to email the head of the program that you had left early that day because you were feeling sick, not having time to tell anyone else. You don’t care if she doesn’t believe you, you just want to lay in bed and feel sorry for yourself.

You fall asleep early that night, body exhausted from the amount of crying you’ve done and now numb to the hurt you feel. What pulls you from your dreamless sleep though, is the loud knocking on your apartment door. Sluggishly, you pull yourself out of bed when the knocking doesn’t stop after a while, looking through the peephole to find the one person you didn’t want to see. But that doesn’t stop you from cracking the door open a bit, and you suddenly get deja vu from the previous weekend.

“YN–”

“What do you want,” your voice is flat as you watch Jiwoong try to reach for the door. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you feel the first flames of anger begin to ignite. He didn’t have anything to say? He wanted to act dumb? “What do you want, Jiwoong?”

“Please, you just need to hear me out–”

“Hear what out? When did you start sleeping with her?” He doesn’t even try to deny anything, knowing he’s been caught and the thought makes you want to scream in frustration and pull at your hair. “When?” you repeat angrily.

Jiwoong sucks in a small breath as he runs his hand through his hair, “YN, you have to understand, Xiaoting doesn’t mean anything to me–”

“Clearly neither do I!”

“YN–”

“When, Jiwoong.”

He hesitates before speaking, “A week after you and I had sex for the first time.” He looks ashamed. You never thought you’d see a man like him look like a kicked puppy, but that’s what he did look like, and the sight didn’t even satisfy you in the slightest.

“I trusted you–”

“You still can–”

You push the door open, revealing the full sight of him. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Let me talk, not you.”

Instantly, he nods, complying with your wishes. Trying to control your frustration, you breathe slowly. “I trusted you, considering everything. I gave you multiple chances, and you still did this, and honestly? I don’t even care why.” That’s a lie, you do care, you care a lot. You don’t want to cry, but all of the emotions are too much, and as you speak you feel the tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

“I don’t want to see you again. I’m going to transfer to a different assisting job, and I don’t want you to ever try to contact me again.”

Jiwoong’s gaze hardens, and suddenly, the man who looked so sorry just a few moments ago looks scary. His eyes look dead, mouth sat in a firm line as he stares down at you, rising to his full height.

“You don’t want to do that, YN, really.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’ll call the police,” you warn, not backing down despite the feeling in your stomach that’s telling you to slam the door in his face. “I want my bags back. For all I care, you can give them to Xiaoting and have her bring me them.”

His chuckle has a wary shiver running down your spine. “Don’t leave me, sweet girl, it won’t end well for you.”

When you look in his eyes, you don’t find any of the Jiwoong you used to know. Nothing of the Jiwoong you’re in love with and your heart somehow breaks even more. “Good night, Dr Kim.” You close the door, ignoring how angry he sounds on the other side of it as you lock it behind you, going back to your bedroom before letting the rest of your tears out into the sheets.

Peace is hard to find, you conclude as you take the next two days off from your student teaching, staying away from all and any forms of social media as you tried to heal as much as you could in such a short amount of time. You still loved Jiwoong, there was no way feelings as strong as the love you had for him would go away in two short days. The thought of it made you angry, but ultimately, you just wanted to ignore anything to do with the man for as long as you could. So on that third day, you had opened your laptop to request a change in who you were studying under.

You weren’t sure if that was even possible, changing your assignment, and you weren’t sure of what excuse you could come up with, but you figured you’d think of something.

“What…” you say softly to yourself at the email from your program already sitting in the inbox.

As your eyes skim over the first few words, your heart falls to your stomach.

“No, no, no,” you repeat softly to yourself, desperately clicking on the box frantically, trying to convince yourself that you were just having a horrible dream.

…Due to inappropriate advances made towards staff, you have been removed from this program… Your life is ruined in one email. In six words. You don’t feel anything and all you can think of is: How did this happen? But deep down, you know, and as the first sob leaves your throat, you hear his voice in the back of your head: “You don’t want to do that, YN, really.”

The air was humid as you entered the small bookstore, the heavy feeling in the atmosphere cluing you into the warm summer’s rain that was on its way. You fix your bag over your shoulder as the smell of paper and coffee fills your nose, a sense of safety grounding you as you look around the small space. Few customers are there, considering you weren’t working the busy hours that day, just from dinner time till closing.

“Hi Ms Park,” you greet the owner behind the checkout counter softly, and the old lady smiles at you as you pass behind her to hang your things up before you begin your shift.

Life was hard after you were expelled from your education program. You had been left to try and figure out where to go from there. Thankfully, you were able to find another program that would accept you. It was through a smaller school, and you would always have that expulsion on your record, but after a hard month, you could finally see your life getting back on track. And you were working in your favorite bookstore during the meantime, trying to save up money for your future.

You adjust the nametag on your top before going back out, asking Ms Park what she wanted you to do first and she was quick to direct you towards a cart of new material, kindly telling you to shelf the books. Doing work like this was good for you, you had concluded. The monotonous actions that you repeated over and over again silenced your mind, pushing those thoughts away that would try to creep into your still-healing mind. And heart.

Hours pass as you continue working, completing little tasks that the sweet owner asks of you, and as you tidy up one of the back corners, you hear her voice. “YN?”

“Mhm?” you hum, glancing at the mess you still needed to finish picking up as you turn around.

You think your heart stops when you see him standing next to your frail-looking boss. You feel yourself freeze, the fear that even just the mention of his name causes you magnifying by the thousands. When you catch yourself, you do your best to snap out of it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you so timid.

“Jiwoong’s looking for something? Would you mind helping him find it?”

You grit your teeth a little, “Of course, Ms Park.” The old lady smiles as she looks up at Jiwoong, patting his arm softly before leaving you alone with him.

You do nothing except stare at him for a moment, not convinced that this was really happening.

“It’s good to see you.” You don’t say anything. Jiwoong smirks as he steps closer to you, head tilting to the side. “I don’t think you’re supposed to give customers the silent treatment.”

Pushing down your anger, you do your best to keep your face expressionless. “What can I help you with?”

The sight of his smile makes you resist the urge to hit him. “When do you get off?”

“What can I help you find?” you try again, shifting back a little as he moves forward again.

“You know… I’ve been going to this bookstore for a long time, and only recently did they move the poetry section.” You swallow harshly. “Care taking me there?”

Shakily, you lift your hand to point in the direction of the genre he was speaking about, “Head in that direction and they’re behind the shelf and to the right.”

“Mmm, you should come with me.” You don’t say anything, avoiding his gaze. His light touch on your chin makes you flinch softly and he coos a little. “Don’t be scared, sweet girl, I wouldn’t hurt you. But if you need another lesson, I’d be more than happy to give it to you.”

“Don’t–”

“I heard you’re entering a new program? One of my friends works at the place you’re going to.”

The combination of fear with the distant mix of love is something you thought never would’ve been possible. But even after everything he’s done, after the time you’ve spent away from him, you can’t ignore the love you’d once felt towards him.

Jiwoong smiles softly, “Come to dinner with me tonight.”

“No,” you reject softly and his grip on your chin tightens slightly.

“Come on, YN, I apologized for the whole Xiaoting mishap, didn’t I? I would hate to have a talk with your new program coordinator about… the things you’ve done. After all of the time I’ve given you to think about things too.”

You feel humiliated as your cheeks warm. Despite it just being the two of you in the back corner of the store, you feel like there are so many eyes on you. Most of all, you feel ashamed over the little flicker of excitement in your heart at the thought of seeing him like that again. Intimate. On a date. With you.

Your throat feels swollen as you nod slightly.

“Ah, there’s my girl,” Jiwoong says, and the happy tone of his voice is something that would’ve tricked you in the past. You don’t know what he’s doing. You don’t know why he’s still holding onto you like this. “I’ve missed you, my sweet girl. I knew you weren’t dumb enough to make the same mistake of leaving me again.”

Jiwoong’s hand runs over your hair, “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

But you feel dumb as you silently agree with him, falling back into his trap and sealing your fate as he grins.

#⠀๑﹙ 𝓖entle愛𝓓aydreams ﹚ㅤ𝆬 ̼⠀﹗#lvlybin ☆ kjw #zb1 smut #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone smut #zb1 #jiwoong smut #jiwoong x reader #zb1 jiwoong x reader #zb1 jiwoong #zerobaseone x reader

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psink · 2 days

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Translation of the interview with Kamiya Hiroshi (Kusuo's VA) and Nojima Kenji (Kuusuke's VA)

The TV anime "The Disastrous Life of Saiki K: The Final Chapter" will air as a year-end special program on the TV Tokyo network on (friday) December 28th from 7:35 to 8:30.

The January issue of PASH!, which is now on sale, features an interview with Kamiya Hiroshi-san, the voice actor of Saiki Kusuo, and Nojima Kenji-san, the voice actor of Kuusuke Saiki. We’re releasing a preview ahead of tomorrow’s broadcast.

Amidst the busy end-of-year, good grief, a world-involving sibling fight…? We spoke to Nojima Kenji-san, who plays the older brother Kuusuke, and Kamiya Hiroshi-san, who plays the younger brother Kusuo, after they had just finished recording about the truth of the matter!

―― Please tell us how you felt when the decision to make the Final Chapter was made. Kamiya: I was very happy. Even if you want to adapt every episode from the original work, it’s not always possible to do so. But with this series, everything fell into place. I think the biggest reason we were able to adapt it all the way to the Final Chapter was because of the fans’ wishes, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.

Nojima: I had heard that the Final Chapter would be made, but I was wondering about what form it would take, and it turned out to be a two-part year-end special. Could people really sit through an hour of this work?! What kind of focus would they need to watch it? I was a bit worried about that (laughs). But I’m sure that “The Disastrous Life of Saiki K” will deliver dense content that makes you lose track of time again, in the way only it can.

―― Compared to other anime series, “Saiki” has about 2 or 3 times more dialogue per episode, right?

Kamiya: I had vaguely noticed that, but… Nojima: You didn’t want to know, did you? (laughs)

Kamiya: Certainly, for a 30-minute anime, it takes a lot of time to go over the script. Even when watching the DVD to check it, I thought “Hm? Is something wrong with the machine?”, because it felt like it was playing fast-forward (laughs).

Nojima: I’ll be honest now, but on the day I first participated in the recording, I actually went into the recording without finishing all the checks.I checked the script at home and then immediately went to the studio. I was calculating in my mind the timing to start reading the script to record whilst still keeping my role preparation fresh.

But, the amount of lines was beyond my imagination, so I couldn't finish the preparation… This was something that shouldn’t have happened, but honestly, I got through the latter half [of the recording] just with concentration (laughs). But, since I was able to maintain the momentum from the first half, I’m glad I was able to bring out a good sense of raw feelings. Kamiya-san, how was your first recording?

Kamiya: I already can’t remember, but when I re-watch Episode 1 now, I think the pace is still slow. It’s gotten gradually faster since entering season 2. In season 2, Director Sakurai was probably broken as the pacemaker (laughs). Nojima: Ahaha, I see. It's like a live band where the rhythm gradually speeds up, and you keep going without knowing the original pace.

Kamiya: Exactly.

Nojima: Since you can’t keep up by just listening to the lines as words, you have to listen to the partner’s tone and match it. It might be similar to a music session.

―― In the Final Chapter, the relationship between Kusuo and Kuusuke seems to be a highlight. What do you both think about these brothers?

Nojima: The reason they can fight so much, do terrible things, and act recklessly is probably because, ultimately, they’re brothers. In a different case, it would have ended in a complete fallout, wouldn’t it?

Kamiya: That’s true. After all, what Kuusuke is doing is almost criminal. Nojima: Ahahahaha.

Kamiya: What I found especially dangerous about what Kuusuke did was the story of making the elderly villagers wear powered suits. The way he disguised it as caregiving while completely using them as his own puppets was seriously dangerous. Nojima: It’s surely his own sense of justice. I wonder if it’s an antithesis to how we should handle the aging society going forward (laughs).

―― Kuusuke’s obsession with Kusuo is also quite dangerous, isn’t it?

Nojima: Kuusuke has a very strong desire for approval, wanting to be recognized by Kusuo above all else. Challenging him to fights is, I think, a distorted expression of that. But I believe it is also an expression of his love and his desire to be loved back.

Kamiya: Kusuo probably thinks Kuusuke is a troublesome person, but Kusuo is also at fault. Although Kuusuke is a genius, he worked hard to create the control device for Kusuo to help him control his superpowers, didn’t he? Kusuo should be grateful, but he doesn’t express it. “Thanks, big brother. I can’t live without this” - it would’ve been nice if he could’ve said that, but Kusuo doesn’t understand the feelings of those without [superpowers], so that didn’t happen. There was also the sense of taking it for granted because they're family, but thinking how this resulted in that difficult brotherly relationship is quite sad.

―― That’s deep.

Kamiya: Although Kusuke knows he’ll lose, he keeps challenging Kusuo to fights and enjoys the process, which shows his malicious side. He’s also quite twisted. So they’re both equally to blame. From an outsider’s perspective, their relationship can be summed up with one phrase "they’re just just not honest with each other”.

Nojima: Despite that, there are also times when they rely on each other.

Kamiya: It’s complicated. That’s why even in the Final Chapter their relationship will likely be depicted.

―― Finally, could you give a message to the readers who are waiting for the broadcast? Nojima: I was worried about how much Kuusuke would appear, but he ended up having a lot more screentime than I had expected, so I was satisfied. I have no doubts that the viewers will enjoy it as well! Since the story’s pace is fast, please acquire the ability to not blink while watching (laughs), and surely, you will be moved to tears in the end. There are emotional parts, but more than anything, I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for cherishing and enjoying this series for so long!

Kamiya: The TV anime is finally reaching its conclusion. For those who are watching for the first time, it might be difficult, as the story keeps quickly progressing whilst you’re wondering “what is this?”. But there is a scene at the beginning that reviews past episodes and introduces the characters, so I think you’ll understand what this series is about. That said, since it’s a gag anime, I hope you can enjoy it without thinking too much.

As for the highlights for the Final Chapter, Kusuo finally moves [his mouth] and speaks for the first time. You might be wondering “What is this person saying?”, but it’s exactly as it sounds (laughs). Please watch the main story to uncover the truth behind it. I’m sure you’ll be surprised.

#saiki kusuo #saiki kuusuke #saiki kusuke #kusuke saiki #kusuo saiki #saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k.#tdlosk #translation #hiroshi kamiya #kenji nojima #i was thinking about this article and surprisingly i don't think anyone's posted it on here before #it's a good read #i especially like them mentioning chapter 169 #(i wasn't sure how to translate 完結編 (s3 name) the wiki calls it “Conclusion” but that sounded off to me as it's not really the conclusion #i think the “kusuo should've been more grateful for the control device” argument would work better #had kuusuke Not immediately attempted to hit kusuo with a bat and then revealed that the right device is actually a self-destruct switch

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nokonomi · 1 day

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What if Bill Cipher had a little sister? + Bonus Reverse! Gravity Falls Bally

What if Bill Cipher had a little sibling, yes I know he destroyed his home dimension but like what if he formed a version of him into his little sister and make them instantly related? I would imagine them having like some kind of chaos junkie older brother and younger sister calmer girl relationship with each other. Bally knows she can’t scold Bill because well, for one, he formed her, and two! She is the younger sibling here so yeah no. But technically she can still scold him even if it results in a sibling fight. They express their platonic love for each other like that way.

Bally is more mature and calmer for a 12-year old triangular entity that has one eye as well, except she doesn’t have a top hat nor is yellow, she’s purplish-blue and has a dark purple bow on top of her pointy head. Eyelashes are more downwards and soft. Carries a little book around with her universal spells and all that little sh!t. She’s a nerd and she likes to study things about the cosmos.

Did I mention whenever she sings she has a very loud voice it can erupt an entire earthquake in just 3 seconds? Yeah so rule number one, no singing (bill said) Honestly she is very powerful but not as powerful as Bill, she can control matter and space, but not time. So she can basically form whatever she wants (an imaginary boyfriend)

Her spells usually come out in a bluish hue, indicating her rather calmer and insignificant side. She’s more exposed to nature then anything in the entire Galaxy. She’s never killed anyone! Not yet… but she is a well-behaved kid, even if she is billions of years old.

Now since she was formed by Bill, she doesn’t know what happened to her parents, well, not really her parents. But she wishes she had parents. She knows what they look like since she shares an individual mind with Bill. And trust me the clean-up process for her to forget all these memories was not pretty.

Sometimes she’ll make a dimension of her own and maybe spend time in it and remorse about lonely times, sit in a corner and draw her and her brother with their presumed dead parents hugging them both. Sometimes she wishes they could maybe hug her too if she was ever apart of the family when her older brother was younger. She misses them. She misses when she was just a little speck of dust in the universe for some reason before getting formed into a real Euclydian.

Now she doesn’t really talk with Bill much, since he’s too busy with much other sh!t he has to deal with anyways. Sometimes she wishes he had the time to spend time with her, but no! THAT never happened. She knows he’s got “big plans” coming up soon. But she can’t just stop time and make him hangout with her. It’s beyond her control. He formed her because he wanted someone to call “family” since he misses his parents.

But she doesn’t think that he wants her as family. He just didn’t care and formed her to clean up his own messes, which she always ends up doing. Part of that is true, some of it is not. She knows the trauma he has.

Fast forward a billions years later to the near 80s. It had been a long time ever since she saw her brother. Distant and alone and hungry for brotherly bonds and relationship, but they never seemed to happen in the end. That is until her mind peaked at a glimpse of Bill’s plans on Earth. Stanford Pines. A genius. Yes. She could finally find someone to connect to. So she headed down to Earth in a human form of herself to maybe see what her brother was up to. She could’ve done this any time, any day, any century, but no. She didn’t want to disturb her brother. After stumbling across Gravity Falls, Oregon. She mentally located the site Stanford was located at and found it, carefully wandering about it. She noticed that Ford was asleep and she decided to enter the Mindscape and see what his brain was filled with. Man, a genius. He was like her. She saw Bill and Ford playing chess, and once Bill detected her, he rushed over to her and said, “Heya sis! It’s been MILLIONS OF YEARS ever since I last saw ‘ya! How ya been?” He acts as if he had seen her last month. She got frustrated and stormed off, Stanford looked at her in sympathy, poor girl was lost.

Now she got angry because he acted as if he had seen her just last week, and he pretended to actually care when in reality he didn’t. This made her very frustrated, screaming at the top of her lungs as she ripped out pages of books that floated inside of The Mindscape. Bill tries to calm her down, which soothes her. What a fool she was for believing he actually cared for her in the end. She smiled and hugged him gently. Bill introduced Bally to Stanford, “Bally, Stanford! Stanford, Bally!”

Bally looked at Stanford in a curious way and smiled. He might be connected to her in some way in the near future. But when she found that portal they were planning, it ruined her. She knew something. She knew connecting The Mindscape with Earth would result in destruction. She tried stopping Bill. It didn’t work. He manipulated her. She ended up crying and storming off, she never saw Bill and Stanford ever again, assuming they were at their worst points.

Authors note: Man this was a very long lore story to go to! Anyways here’s a drawing of her and Reverse!Gravity Falls AU her! I’m hoping you all enjoyed the lore reading. She might be a bit tad out and cringe but I like her for that. I might change her up later!

Some facts about Sally and Bally. -Bally likes reading books and using her books to make spells or summon random things. She glows blue whenever she does something incredibly powerful.

-Bally believes Bill didn’t actually care for her, which he didn’t care for her actually. He manipulated her and why should she trust him? -She got cheated out of her own childhood.

SALLY

-Sally is an ENTP, silly and more extroverted, honestly had no care in the world whatsoever and a chaos junkie like Bill. -Makes fun of Will (Reverse!gravity falls AU Bill Cipher) for being so easily depressed and cries easily. She thinks he’s weak, she actually cares for her older brother.

-Literally the type to say “ROFLMAO!” “LMAO” “LOL XD” “<3” Gen Z type.

-Honestly does not care about Earth or any other dimension. WORKS FOR NOBODY. NOBODY. NOBODY NOBODY NOBODY.

#Bill cipher #Will cipher #gravity falls AU #gravity falls #Dipper pines #mabel pines #gideon gleeful #soos Ramirez #stanley pines #stanford pines #bill cipher #sibling dynamics #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls oc lore

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 3 days

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The Gym Membership - Part 47 (Crosshair)

Summary: Crosshair thinks back to his argument with Tech

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I hope everyone is having a good week. I know some having been dealing with a lot of stress or difficulties and I just want to say that you are all doing amazing. If you got up out of bed, you're doing amazing. If you opened your eyes but stayed in bed, you're doing amazing. Even if all you did was turn over and go right on sleeping, it's okay. You're amazing. The fact that you are still alive and surviving in this crazy world is amazing. Don't give up.

Love oo

Warnings: Annoyance, grief, anger at oneself, cheating, coma, drinking, guilt, feelings of disgust of oneself. I think that's it, if I miss any warnings, please let me know.

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“Crosshair, when it came to the wedding between you and Avery, what was that like? I imagine it was on base.”

“It was.” He turned to look at Tech, wondering where this conversation was going.

“Who officiated it?”

“What?”

“Officiated, who did it?”

“The Chaplain.”

“Hmmm”

“What?” Cross started to grow more irritated by these incessant questions from his younger brother.

“Just wondering, Kamarie and I did think about a military wedding, but truthfully we would’ve been happy with any wedding…” Tech’s voice trailed off as he thought back to the love of his life. He missed her every day, probably more than he would ever dare to admit.

“Oh.” Crosshair’s annoyance diminished a little until Tech started up again.

“So how did you guys live on base? I mean you were going on missions, and from what I understand she didn’t go on too many, but she did have her own missions as well. Was that difficult to deal with?”

He ran his hand over his head, and stood moving away from Tech, before he lost his cool on his younger brother. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Why?”

“Tech, move on.”

“No.”

Crosshair turned to look at Tech, “Excuse me?”

“You never talk about Avery, about your marriage, about anything.”

“Maybe that’s by design.”

“And maybe you’re hiding.”

“Tech, mind your business.”

“Why are you so afraid to talk about your life with Avery?”

Crosshair’s patience had worn thin as he looked at his younger brother, his restraint crumbled as he glared at Tech. “I don’t feel the need to discuss my marriage Tech! It’s as simple as that. Avery was a brief moment of happiness in my life. A joke life handed me, making me believe for one tiny moment I could possibly be that happy, have a chance at something normal. Something perfect…” Crosshair swallowed the warm bubble that rose in his throat, as anger replaced the pain, “Only to have it yanked away. Do you honestly think I want to keep reliving it? No! So I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!”

Tech stood from his seat, shaking his head not so much in disappointment as in sorrow for his older brother. “If Avery was here now, do you think she’d appreciate the way you speak about her? The way you refuse to share what you two had with your family?” He adjusted his glasses, before letting out a sigh, “Life is full of disappointments, and yes sometimes it comes and snuffs out the one thing that brings you joy and peace and makes you feel complete. However, for all the pain that I’ve gone through, I can’t imagine not talking about Kamarie or remembering my times with her; because if I didn’t talk about her, it would mean those moments of happiness never happened. Those thousands of kisses we shared in such a short span of time, didn’t occur. All those conversations and shared laughter we had were a dream.” Tech shook his head, as he poured out his thoughts, “I can’t have that; I can’t let those precious memories die, simply because it hurt too much. Crosshair, I know our circumstances are different, and what you had with Avery can’t even compare to what I had with Kamarie, however I do understand where you’re coming from. However, the pain won’t go away if you simply ignore it.”

Crosshair took in a deep breath as the warm liquid began to fill his vision, “If you understand me, just agree with me and move on.”

Just before he shifted towards the exit, Tech called out to Crosshair one more time, closing the distance between them as he gently gripped his shoulder, “Just because I understand you, doesn’t mean I have to agree with you. You are causing yourself more harm by locking away your pain, Crosshair. As your vod, I’m concerned about you. Don’t hide from the pain. Don’t hide from your past. Let her live.”

He could still see Tech’s glistening eyes, as unshed tears welled up in his eyes as he put the lid back on Layla’s toilet.

Tech did understand him, better than any of his brothers, however what he failed to grasp was the guilt he’d been feeling. The amount of pain he carried, as he reflected on the way he lived his life while his wife was in a coma. Finding the comfort he could during those years, when he wasn’t at work, or looking after Avery, he was either diving to the bottom of a bottle or sleeping around with the first warm body he could find, just to dull the pain of her lying there and unable to do anything to help her.

There was no way Tech could understand, the reason his guilt kept him from talking about Avery, especially to his vod who’d been the epitome of a devoted partner especially during Kamarie’s last days. Whereas, he’d been unfaithful the entire time Avery entered into a coma, what was worse, was the fact it hadn’t phased him until she passed. And now that guilt of being an unfaithful, despicable husband was eating him up even more as his eyes had lingered over Layla.

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@justanothersadperson93

@liadamerondjarin

@spicymcnuggies

@lady-ren

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@darkangel4121

@discofern

@kavecika

@monako-jinn-stories

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@totallyunidentified

@griffedeloup

@leotawrites

@helenaslost

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@dragonrider9905reads

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prisonpodcast · 5 months

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some ccs are just straight up nuts there’s no other explanation

#saw a comment on r/dwt2 and it made me look into the moonzy/draggie situation #this freak accused him of having ‘grooming tendencies’ when he was YOUNGER than her #he showed all their DMs and it was just reciprocated flirting ??#he was initiated more but it seemed reciprocal to me?#she just got mad at him bc he replied to one of her tweets where she was flirting with Karl with ‘ouch’#<- replied in DMs I mean #I guess bc she thought the flirting was a joke ??#how is this an ‘experience’ you need to speak up about im loosing my mind #‘guy flirted with me I flirted back but I wasn’t really interested pls show ur sympathies and like and subscribe🥺’#and in her statement she was talking about an anon who came out about their experiences prior #saying they had been groomed but draggie had fully debunked that years ago #so idk why she was bringing that up ??#and ofc you have aim.sey and max and sniff in the replies with their heart emojis #straight up nuts I’m losing brain cells here #btw she’s the one who said something about how a lot of ccs didn’t support her #including big ones from that ‘stupid mine.craft server’ (meaning dsmp obv)#just nuts straight up nuts #negativity #like I have to be missing something (and if I am pls tell me but I don’t think I am???)#because saying this cringe flirting with someone YOUNGER THAN YOUUU is ‘groomer tendencies’ is fucking nuts #it’s just what is with these people like what’s wrong with them #why does mildly uncomfortable experience = horrible predator we need to inform the public about bc they’re a danger to society #sorry I’m done I’m just actually upset lol

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daydreamerdrew · 1 year

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Captain America (2005) #36

#also I haven’t been posting about her because I needed time to formulate my thoughts #but I went into this book not having any idea what was gonna happen with Sharon #and I got so invested in her storyline #some of the flashbacks to when Bucky was younger at the end got to me #but prior to those Sharon was the most sympathetic character in the book #it’s not brought up afterwards but Sharon was definitely under Dr. Faustus’ control when she got pregnant #and he was influencing her to make her fall deeply in love with Steve #but she wasn’t confused about having sex with him #she was just disturbed that she told him she loved him and didn’t betray him to SHIELD #because those she recognized as out of character for her #I think it makes sense that Sharon’s feelings once she’s free from that mind control are dominanted by that she killed Steve #but I’m hoping that future comics with Sharon delve deeper into this very messy situation #she was so focused on her job at the beginning of the book I don’t even know if she had wanted to have kids #also I was very confident that something was gonna happen to make Sharon lose her baby up until I got to that part in the book #and then I was like nooo she’s definitely gonna win this fight #but that did not happen #and then I was like nooo they could still reveal that the baby survived in next issue even though Sharon got stabbed in the stomach #but that did not happen either #marvel #sharon carter #my posts #comic panels

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tonycries · 4 months

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Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left.

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you?

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse.

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything.

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly.

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere.

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it.

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe.

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words.

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought.

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go.

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own.

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back.

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms.

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you?

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru.

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him.

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by.

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend.

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core.

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra.

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you.

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him.

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker.

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now.

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down.

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity.

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor.

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts.

And it was so unfair.

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were.

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt.

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used.

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now.

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you.

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything.

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance.

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier.

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close.

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer.

But it wasn’t fast enough.

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat.

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard.

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time.

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-”

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth.

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything.

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of.

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue.

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes.

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild.

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then.

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time.

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum.

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive.

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice.

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick.

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy.

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs.

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…”

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t.

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him.

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break.

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks.

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face.

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting.

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow.

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut.

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it.

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty.

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind.

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain.

And then it’s black.

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so.

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel?

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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ramonathinks · 3 months

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tags: older reader x younger satoru gojo, squirting, slight overstimulation, oral (f), smut | gojo satoru

note: i actually don’t like this fr but lol

you’ve never had a real orgasm. not at all in your almost 33 years. no man has ever even almost got you there. but you didn’t know that, you thought you had one before. feeling a bit good and then the feeling disappeared. you were… satisfied maybe? but it was always like this with guys your age.

so you knew why it was different with satoru. but man, it was different. really different.

he was 6’7, had a pretty long and girthy cock between his legs and always had a goofy smile on his face. he was 25 and for some reason… he was interested in you, instead of the younger and presumably prettier girls in the office.

from the moment he transferred to your department, he was in your face and trying to get your attention. it was always something with him — picking up some coffee for you, walking you to your car, and flirting.

it was always something small… a whisper in the ear to praise you for the good job on your presentation or a hand on your lower back.

it was supposed to only be dinner. yet here you are, with him in your bed and his mouth on your cunt.

“you’re delicious.” he mutters, lapping at your folds, stretching your lips open so he can get every bit of wetness spilling out of you. he was avoiding your flit, getting closer and closer before he moved away to focus elsewhere. kissing the trail of wetness on your thighs or dipping his tongue back inside of you. your stomach clenched and you could feel more wetness spilling out and that’s when his lips met your clit — a tiny kiss before he rubbed his face into you and sucked hard enough to make your toes curl.

he can barely wait anymore, he climbs off the bed before removing the last layer of his clothing and rubbing his aching leaking cock against your folds. pushing in, you both moan.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, moving his hips back and forth, inching himself in. he’s holding back, seeing your face twist between pain and pleasure.

“please i—” your brain is fuzzy and feels like mush, you can barely think. he’s so big and just from what’s inside, he’s close to digging you out.

“shhh… you don’t have to beg senpai. i’ll give it to you right now,” his face is still wet with your juices as he speaks and he releases a short moan feeling you around him. “feels so good already—” he says.

pulling himself al the way out just to slam back inside of you, before he slows down so you can feel every inch of him. speeding his pace so his tip can just almost touch a spot that you never had touched before… a spot you didn’t know existed, but knowing that he was close to something and feeling it .. did something to you

“sator—ahh!” your thighs are shaking and you feels big pressure in your insides that make you try to move him off of you. “i feel like ‘m going to…” he’s slamming into you with one hand on your clit as if he knows what you’re going to say.

a squirt of wetness flows as he keeps moving inside of you and you can see that wetness on his lower half but he doesn’t seem to mind it; his face is in pure bliss as he stares back into your eyes. he pushes on your stomach more, more wetness leaking onto your sheets. your eyes are rolled back but he grips your thighs and forces you to sit on top of him.

“can’t-”

“but you will, right… for me, senpai?” and it was something about him calling you senpai again that made you squirt more uncontrollably, splashing more than just a stream. he grabs your ass and grips it hard, pulling you up and down his cock. your insides tightened around him and you unconsciously rolled your hips a few times.

you could feel a wave of everything washing over you, his cock hitting a different part deep inside you, which made your back snap and you wrap your legs around him even more, cumming in his lap with a big moan; a mixture of both cream and squirt soaking his lap.

“i’ll make sure you never forget who made you cum this hard.” he kisses you, grabbing your jaw so that you can open your mouth before he spits in your mouth and you groan, sinking your nails into his back.

you wake up late, almost in the middle of the afternoon, wrapped in your sheets and satoru gone. you aren’t so surprised but you put your robe on and walk down the stairs.

you hear talking or a bit of arguing.

“listen kid, im not leaving my daughters with you. now tell me—” you freeze at the voice of your ex and you see a fuming satoru.

“no you listen—”

holding the robe even more tightly together, you walk towards the two men to make your presence known. “c’mon girls, there’s food on the table.” your daughters race to the kitchen.

“wait babe, i made that for us—” you shoot him a stare and satoru shuts his mouth.

“thanks for dropping them off, have a good day.” you shut the door and sigh. “why didn’t you wake me?”

“i tried but you were so worn out. i guess i overdone it…”

“you guess? i never came in my life and you…” you whispered, feeling dizzy thinking about last night.

“let’s get you something to eat.”

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 2 months

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FWB to Lovers w/ Logan

Description: How Y/N and Logan went from Fuck buddies to Lovers

Warning: Dirty talk

Ever since Y/N, Wade and Logan saved the timeline it has been a known thing that Logan and Y/N had tension and Wade always made it known: “UGH just fuck already Disney can just cut it out of the film.” “What?”

Y/N tried to hide her feelings at first knowing that Logan probably wanted someone his age and not a younger woman with little to no experience. Boy was she wrong: “Wade’s right. We should fuck.”

Though he said that drunk, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was sure he wouldn’t remember saying that but the never next day when she just stared at him a little too long she was up against the wall in a second: “We need to hurry before Wade gets back.”

He was huge compared to her and the size kink was real. For his age he had a nice body and a dick that hit all her special spots: “Fuck. I didn’t even know that spot could be reached.”

He took her on everything in that house. The couch, the wall, the beds (even Wade’s), shower, counter and even on a chair. Wade found out and his reaction wasn’t even surprising: “You guys can’t just fuck on my bed and not let me watch.”

Y/N was falling hard for the man and Wade could tell. Her stares were no longer just filled with lust but love. She looked at him like he was the whole world and more: “OMG is the Y/N falling in love?” “Shut up!”

Logan was too and that showed when he found out that Y/N and Wade had slept together before. Though Y/N and Logan weren’t together and only supposed to be FWB, He got extremely jealous: “YOU GUYS HAVE SLEPT TOGETHER?” “Duh. Have you seen us? Two hot people fucking is the norm.”

Y/N and Wade both found it odd that he got mad about that given it was 2 years ago and before any of this. Logan stormed off to his room ignoring them calling his name. Wade looked at Y/N with a knowing look: “Seems like your pussy is a love potion and he had too much of it.”

Though it wasn’t the best idea, Wade went to talk to him about it. Y/N almost wanted to do it herself but Wade offered and said that he wouldn’t crack jokes about the situation: “Listen peanut, I understand that you have a bad boy reputation to stick too but that hard on you’re showing says you enjoyed the thought of it.” “WADE GET OUT!”

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. Her mind was on Logan and how he just stormed out of the room after hearing that they fucked. Did he love her back? She needed to know. She walked to his door and knocked, not caring if he was asleep or not: “Do you love me?” “Y/N, It’s 3 am.”

He did in fact love her and he should’ve shown it better. Wade always wanted to get under his skin and that’s probably why he mentioned that: “I said that to get you two together. It’s annoying to see you guys act like Blind AL trying to find something.”

Ok Wade maybe a little too far?

Both of them were idiots for not just admitting how they felt but now it was worth it in the end and Wade was to thank: “I’m not thanking you with Tacos!” “Well aren’t you just ungrateful?”

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

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Prequel Part I

Yandere Short Story Series:

Too Late For Remorse

Yandere Cheater Duke x Countess Reader x Duke

TW: murder, yandere themes, cheating (mentioned), delusional behavior, yandere is the villain, etc.

“So you’re breaking off the engagement between my son and your daughter?” Duke Blackburn sat in the chair across from Count (last name). The older Duke delicately held the tea cup in his hand.

“I apologize for breaking the agreement, but my daughter cannot be without a man who associates with the Serpico family.” Duke Blackburn nodded his head in agreement.

“I understand, I’m also not a big fan of infidelity.” It was quite well known in the noble faction that Duke Blackburn’s wife had messed around with many knights during their short marriage. Which worked in Count (Last name)’s favor since Duke Blackburn despised the unfaithful.

Duke Blackburn continued the conversation, “You know your daughter was promised to marry a Blackburn. It’d be a shame to not have such a beautiful woman in our family. I have another son who’s a few years younger than her.”

“Eh, I don’t know if Broderick be a good match since he’s not quite mature yet…” Count (Last name) sighed. “I wouldn’t mind my daughter marrying you if I’m honest-“

Duke Blackburn’s cheeks flushed in shock, the Duke nearly dropped his tea cup from the Count’s words. “I beg your finest pardon?”

“My daughter would be in good hands if she was with you. You’re mature and you’ve been single for over a decade.” Count (last name) gestured to the portrait of his daughter behind him. “You said it yourself that my daughter was beautiful.”

“That does not mean I want to marry a woman half my age-“

“Duke Lucius Blackburn and Duchess (your

name), I can picture it.” Count (last name) howled with laughter when the Duke hid his scarred face in his gloved hands. The older Duke felt embarrassed by the Count’s teasing.

Lucius and (your name)? It is a normal occurrence of marrying a younger woman in this day and age, but she was his own son’s ex-fiancée! Then again, it would be a similar situation if she became engaged to Broderick…

“Alright. I will marry your daughter-“ Duke Blackburn put his hand on Count (last name)’s shoulder before the smaller man could cheer. “But consult with her first. I’m an old man and I’m still the commander of the Royal’ Family’s army. I’d hardly have time for her.”

“Of course I will. I’m sure she will be delighted!”

Duke Blackburn and Count (last name) continued to have small talk but Lucius couldn’t help the feeling of nervousness that crept up his veins. Would she really be alright with a man like him?

“So Duke Blackburn said he’d marry you if you’d like to be with him.” (Your name) quirked a brow at her father. The young woman slowly sipped the tea her father had prepared for this meeting. She was a bit surprised her father wanted to find her a partner this quickly, but she was also in her prime. If (your name) didn’t marry soon, she never would.

“But I just ended my engagement to him-“

“Wrong Blackburn, my dear. I’m talking about Lucius Blackburn-“ (your name) spat out the tea and choked a bit. Lucius?! As in Trishan’s father?! “Are you alright?”

“Father, you can’t possibly- why?” (Your name) struggled to formulate words as a million questions ran through her brain. Engagement to Trishan’s father?! His father?!

“Well, he’s a much better man than his spawn. Don’t you think, my dear?” Count (last name) puffed his chest out in pride. “Plus he’s still quite fit despite his age-“

“Father!” (Your name) stood up, her being frazzled with bewilderment. “It hasn’t even been a week since my engagement was annulled and… that man is old enough to be my father!”

“But he would treat you well!”

(Your name) shook her head and was about to excuse herself from the table. How was she supposed to get her revenge if she now had to marry Trishan’s father?

(Your name) held her head while the gears began to turn in her head. Wait. This could work… she could use Lucius to her advantage.

“You’re right, father. How could I not see that before?” (Your name) bent down and pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”

The count was in shock before his whole face lit up. He was so happy to bring his daughter joy! She deserved to be happy!

Trishan threw a chair across his room in anger. His engagement had been annulled and his beloved was to marry his father?! No… this wasn’t how his second chance was supposed to work out! They were supposed to be happy together!

“Trishan?” Trishan’s blood went cold when he heard a familiar, feminine voice from outside his door. What was that snake doing here? “You haven’t replied to any of my letters and I’m really worried about you…”

Lies. That woman only wanted to become a Duchess and she had murdered (your name) in the past… was this her fault?

Trishan felt murderous intent drip throughout his veins as he stood up. Yes… this was Gia’s fault. If she didn’t exist… then (your name) would come back to him.

Trishan’s lips curved up in a demented smile. If he got rid of Gia then everything would fall back into place. Just like it was meant to.

“Wait for me darling… I’ll make everything right this time.”

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indecisivemuch · 7 months

Text

Apples

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You tossed an apple to Luke without knowing the meaning of it in Greek Mythology (fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: Just wanted to write something lighthearted and funny. Since I saw somewhere that apparently throwing an apple at someone means something in Greek Mythology, thought I should use it as a prompt.

Word count: 3.1k

You have been at Camp Half-Blood for a year. Within that time, you’ve been claimed by your Godly parent, learned so many things about Greek mythology, and, best of all, made friends who understood exactly what you were going through and all whom you loved dearly.

One of them was Luke Castellan. You two were relatively close friends, though you swore he treated you differently than he would with others at camp. But you didn’t want to be foolish and assumed it was something. That didn’t mean you don’t treat him differently than you would with other campers though. You have always had a soft spot for Luke in your heart. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but you found yourself thinking about him too often.

“Anyway, Percy. Don’t worry too much, honestly. We all have been through what you’re currently going through. You’ll fit right in, yeah?” the younger boy offered you a lope-sided smile as you patted his back and stood up.

“Alright, boys, I have to go now, but I’ll see you later,” you said before grabbing your plate, which would have been empty if it wasn’t for the apple you hadn’t eaten. The rest of the table - which included Chris, Luke, and Percy - said their goodbyes before chattering again as you walked away. However, you halted as you changed your mind about wasting the apple.

You turned back to look at the group before calling out, “Hey, Castellan.” However, you were slightly caught off guard to see Luke already having his eyes on you.

Luke swore that you have always had him mesmerized. If he even heard a whisper of your voice, his head would immediately try to locate you. To make matters worse, Chris even started calling Luke a “lost puppy” when he realized how your departure would always leave Luke like one.

“Catch,” you tossed your apple at Luke.

Multiple heads turned in your direction as the red apple hurled through the air before landing neatly in Luke’s hands. The Hermes cabin counselor had his eyes glued onto the fruit that was in his palms. You almost halted in your steps from his and other camper’s reactions. Some started whispering to their friends, pointing at you. You even heard one gasp. But you ignored them, finding it strange that people cared so much about such a small interaction.

“You can have it. I don’t think I’ll have time to eat it,” with that, you vanished from the scene, leaving at least half of the camp agape, including Luke and your friends.

Then, the strangest of things happened for the next few days. It started with Luke already stationed outside when you exited your cabin the morning after. He cheekily presented you with one singular flower in his hand, and you took it with playful words, “Ooh, what did I do to deserve this special treatment today?”

“Nothing, just thought I should show how much I appreciate you,” Luke put his arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to the dining pavilion. You could feel your cheeks flushing at his action. He has never done this before. With his arms around you, the sides of your bodies brushed as the two of you walked. You noticed almost immediately how every other person would have their eyes on the two of you. But you ignored the attention and focused on Luke instead.

The sweet actions didn’t stop at flowers or more physical touches. For the next three days, Luke was stuck to your hip. So it was quite strange that you have not spotted the Hermes cabin counselor in the last two hours. Hence why you were spending some time with Clarisse, another close friend of yours. However, you felt an arm swinging around your shoulders, and you instantly recognized who it was from the familiar touch.

“Hey, Clarisse, can I borrow Y/N real quick?” Luke asked, quickly muttering a “thank you” when your friend nodded. “So, I have something to give you…” your face must have shown how surprised you were because he chuckled at your reaction. However, when the boy pulled his gift out from his cargo pocket, your mouth fell slightly agape at the reveal.

Luke must have misinterpreted your reaction because he started nervously rambling, his voice a few octaves higher, “It’s not much, but honestly, this is all I can do with my arts and crafts skills. I’m just not really good with that y-”

“It’s perfect, Luke. Thank you so much!” you gave him a brief hug, but it was enough to stun him for a second. Luke felt this urgent sense of craving from how your bodies fit for a second. It’s as if he was made to hold you. He almost pulled you back into another hug but had to force himself to regain composure. Nevertheless, that didn’t last long because his eyes softened again at the sight of you trying on the bracelet he made. The beads in your favorite color, crafted with care, wrapped around your wrist perfectly, and you wonder how he knew just the right size to make it.

The truth was Luke had to ask Clarisse to steal one of your bracelets just so he could make a bracelet of the correct size. But you didn't need to know that, though - according to him.

The next night, there was a social gathering near the campfire. Luke reapproached the location with a hoodie in hand. Earlier, Luke excused himself to fetch the clothing item that was now in his hand that was meant for you. However, his brows scrunched as he spotted another figure next to you, sitting in the spot that he previously occupied. You were laughing at something they said. The way your laugh echoed in his head usually sounded like a lullaby or the enchanting voice of a siren. But right now, the idea that someone else elicited the same laugh made him want to hurl behind the bush he was standing next to.

Little did he know you were zoning out from whatever the other boy was speaking about, thus the fake laugh to not blow your cover. You were distracted just thinking about Luke and everything he has done so far - offering his portion of dessert to you because he knew it was your favorite; him winning Capture the Flag and ignoring everybody else to go hug you first, then having his eyes on you and only you afterwards; sneaking out of camp to go buy the items you mentioned once that you wish you had at camp and so on.

Your mind quickly reminded you that the boy sitting next to you was still talking to you. However, when you snapped out of your thoughts again, you realized now he was looking at you expectantly and you scrambled your mind for a reply.

Thank Gods Luke plopped down on your other side, saving you from having to admit to the other boy that you were not listening to him. “Hey, you’re back,” you commented. Luke’s arm automatically threw itself around your shoulder and tugged you to him slightly. Your body leaned on the Hermes cabin counselor ever so naturally at this before you turned to him. Luke quickly set his clothing on your lap, and you stared at it questioningly.

“You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” your cheeks flushed again at how he knew without you telling him. You shivered maybe once or twice earlier due to the night air lowering the temperature, but it was so brief you were sure nobody had noticed. As you put on the hoodie, Luke averted his gaze from you to the guy on your other side.

The Hermes cabin counselor arched one of his eyebrows in a challenging manner. Almost immediately, his ‘opponent’ slightly raised both of his hands. Luke internally snickered at the quick motion of surrender.

“My bad, man,” you heard the other boy say as you managed to put your head through the clothing item and pull it down. Luke was physically preening at the other boy’s words and departure. Meanwhile, you were distracted by how you were engulfed by the smell of Luke from his hoodie. Your height difference also meant you were swimming in it, but it felt so comfortable.

“What was that?” you asked once the other boy was gone.

“Nothing…” even the most oblivious person could see that Luke was lying. But, once again, you did not question his actions and carried on with the gathering. You could also feel other campers staring at the two of you, but you ignored that as well.

That night - like every other night since four days ago - he walked you back to your cabin. You were honestly completely smitten by the attention he has given you, not that you would admit that to him. You were still not sure what caused the change, but you were still elated about it. Maybe he did return your feelings? Either way, everything felt perfect lately, and you went to sleep that night feeling like the stars aligned for you.

“I guess congratulations are in order?” Percy spoke up as you lined up for food the following day.

“What do you mean?” you asked, taking the plate of food. Today’s meal consisted of mac n’ cheese, steak, and an apple.

“You’re engaged?” you almost dropped your plate at that and gave the son of Poseidon a questioning look. “You proposed to Luke like a week ago?”

“What? When?”

“When you threw him the apple? That is considered a marriage proposal.”

“Since when?”

“Uh, in Ancient Greek culture, it’s considered a marriage proposal if a man throws an apple at a lady. But, I mean, it’s the 21st century, so I guess it can work both ways.” Percy finally took a plate of food for himself. “And if the recipient catches it, it’s considered an acceptance.”

“You saw this and knew this whole time without telling me?!?”

“I thought you knew! And you two seem so smitten already, so I thought you did it on purpose.”

“Percy, no! Is this a well-known thing? Do you think other people who saw it too thought I proposed to Luke as well?” Seeing Percy’s look and how he was fumbling with his words, you quickly requested, “Actually, no, don’t answer that.”

The two of you walked over to Luke and Chris with plates in hand. You picked up the apple on your plate and placed it on the table.

“Luke, we need to talk,” You deliberately placed the fruit there, hoping the boy would get a hint about the topic you wanted to discuss. Luke’s eyes flicked from the fruit to you. Though the hint of amusement in his eyes and a sheepish grin made you realize he knew all along. Luke stood up and followed you out of sight and hearing distance from other campers whose eyes were trailing after the two of you.

“You knew what it meant, and you didn’t tell me?” You broke the silence as soon as you two were far away enough.

“Listen, I appreciate your proposal. But, it’s a little bit fast, don’t you think?” Luke teased, and you instantly hit his arm at that, causing the boy to flinch slightly, but the smile on his face told you he was anything but mad at your action.

“But you caught it. So, technically, you said yes,” you rebutted, sighing as you rubbed your face, “My Gods, does everybody at camp think we’re engaged? Wait, is this a substitute for an engagement ring? Did you give this to me because of that?” you pointed to the bracelet Luke gave you, your mind now understanding Clarisse’s teasing and her implications. You could see the way Luke was stifling a laugh. He settled with saying something else when he saw the pure panic on your face.

“Sweetheart, calm down.” the nickname successfully silenced you. You hated how it made you feel, but you would not mind hearing that daily. “No, it’s not an engagement ring.”

“Oh, so were you doing all of these romantic gestures and gifts on purpose to make fun of me and the situation?” you asked, though it was more with a lighthearted tone than one of temper. However, something shifted because the expression on Luke’s face changed from one of humor to earnestness.

“No, I didn’t do all this to make fun of the situation or you…” Luke’s voice fell off as tried to find the right words to say next. In that split second, Luke took a deep breath, and you could see how nervous he suddenly became, though he still kept a light tone. “I did it because I took it as a chance to maybe…win you over, and it also gives me an advantage because it fended off many other guys.”

Undoubtedly, you were frozen in place, unable to register the words he was saying and the implications they bear. Neither did the boy in front of you act like the Luke you usually know - somebody who was usually confident, outgoing, always having his way with words. No, the person in front of you could not even hold eye contact, the pink hue on his cheeks now spreading to the tip of his ears as he shifted left and right. Luke broke the silence first, giving away the nerves that were gnawing him away from your lack of response.

“How about this? I’ll say ‘no’ to your mind-blowing marriage proposal for now,” you lightheartedly hit him again, rolling your eyes playfully. Seeing a positive reaction from you, Luke let out a small breath of relief, but the nerves quickly overtook again as he mustered up all the courage to utter his counter proposal: “But maybe we could start with something slower like going on a date? — Or I’ll even settle with you allowing me to try and ‘woo’ you.” Luke added the last bit as insurance, in case you didn’t want to take up on the date. Part of his mind wanted to scowl at himself for seeming so desperate - but Gods, he has always been a desperate man when it comes to you.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yet you still proposed to me.”

“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” Luke only shook his head in response. Once again, you haven’t responded to his offer. Luke could see that you were in deep thought, the cogs turning in your head as you digested what he just said.

“You mean it? That you wanna go on a date? That you wanna “woo” me and sweep me off my feet?” you questioned. Despite the humor in your voice, there was also a hint of vulnerability and cautiousness. “Does this mean what you’ve been doing for the past few days…they are all genuine?”

“Is it that hard to believe that I like you? I don’t think you even fully understand the feelings I have for you. I’ve had my eyes on you for a year now, which is the entire time I know you, and I’m afraid I can’t see that changing any time soon.” Luke had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying more because he was sure he would never stop talking about you if he could. Maybe those unspoken words ought to be things Luke would disclose in the future. If you give him the chance, he will ensure you hear everything he adored about you.

“Well, that’s good then, ‘cause I happen to like you too,” your words made Luke’s eyes snap to yours, almost in disbelief.

Luke felt as if his heart was blocking his airway by the way it was thumping so hard in his chest to the point he could feel the vibration in his neck. He held his breath over your confession and the way you were looking at him. Oh, Luke was convinced he was utterly doomed because how could he be so affected by one single look. He was suddenly unsure whether he would be able to handle your affections or ever live without it if it was taken from him. He’d spend the rest of eternity like a deprived man.

“Aw, look who is nervous now,” you teased, deciding to somewhat torture him and get him back for teasing you earlier. “I did not think I had this kind of effect on you, Castellan,” you approached him slowly, keeping eye contact with his now dilated pupils.

“I mean…all I did was say a couple of words and you’re all tongue tied. What would happen to you if I do this?” you swiftly grabbed Luke’s camp beads and pulled him down, eliminating a significant amount of space between your faces, though not completely. To steady himself during your action, Luke’s hands steadied on your hips and stumbled slightly, though you did not mind the touch.

You never knew it was possible for his face to flush even more, but it did. Luke gulped and your eyes casted down on the way his Adam’s apple moved when he did so. The way he reacted to you only intoxicated you with power even more. You glanced upwards a bit, eyes observing his lips for a split second before looking back up at his eyes. You smirked when you caught his eyes flickering back to yours from your lips as well.

Just as you were about to close the distance, Luke pulled back just a bit, finally able to speak, though his words were heavy warnings, “If this happens—” Luke stopped, unsure he should let you know. Luke shook his head lightly as his eyes traced over your features before continuing, “If we kiss, there is no going back for me. I don’t think I could just…forget about it. So, please, just be sure before you do it.” Your eyes softened at his words.

“I promise, Luke. I am sure,” you muttered, though Luke knew you meant the words by heart from the way you were looking at him.

You finally pulled the boy down again using his camp necklace.

As your lips touched Luke’s, he let out a content sigh. His hands clung onto your hips, pulling you flush against his own body while you caressed both sides of his face in your hands. Luke felt like the world was swallowing him whole. The boy now knew what your lips tasted like, and it felt like an addiction. He could feel his heart waving white flags at that moment, completely surrendering to you. He was right before. There was no going back from this.

But oh, if Luke knew an apple was all it took, he would have tossed one to you himself.

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

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6K notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 4 months

Text

truth or dare

18+. mdni. smuuuut. yeah man it’s really just smut. eddie munson x female reader.

a/n: not sure if i really like this but i wanted to post something while i work on this other long ass thing that may never see the light of day el oh el a continuation to gimme a hand and bump n’ grind or can absolutely be read on it’s own!

steve and robin had made the right call, leaving a few hours ago before the storm really hit.

eddie’d stupidly offered another joint, not wanting to let you go so soon. optimistic that maybe something would happen after those two had cleared off.

you’d been darting around it all evening, watching the movie with your hand under the blanket, stroking his thigh. inadvertently, or perhaps purposefully, making his cock shift with every length of your hand.

you peer out of the window, clicking your tongue against the back of your teeth, “i don’t think i can drive,” turning back to face him, “it’s really comin’ down out there,” a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

“i’m sure wayne won’t mind if you crash here,” shrugging softly.

you used to stay around a lot when you were slightly younger, back when touch was innocent and there weren’t all these complicated layers to your relationship.

“can you handle that?”

his eyes roll back, “shut up,” sitting back in his spot on the couch. anticipating spending the night here rather than in his bed, desperate to prove that he could handle it.

“whatcha wanna do?” you sing, pursing your lips.

“i dunno,” he shrugs, “we could watch another movie?” knowing that ultimately, another movie would lead to you touching his thigh until he came or something.

“that’s boring,” scowling at his suggestion, “i mean.. we are stuck in here,” biting on your bottom lip, “let’s play a game,” you propose, cocking your head, “truth or dare.”

eddie groans, an unwilling participant in your silly little games.

“come on,” offering zero incentive for him to play, “it’ll be fun,” taking another swig of the surely luke-warm beer. “truth or dare?”

there is not a single bone in his body that wants to play with you. no doubt you’d have him confessing to something embarrassing or doing something dangerous or stupid.

“dare,” he says flatly, hoping you’ll dare him to jump out of the window or something.

“i dare you..” you ponder for only a second, “to take your shirt off.”

“wh-,” he starts, mouth falling open, “well i dare you to take your shirt off.”

“it’s not my turn, idiot,” pursing your lips, “off.. now.”

pouting your lips, watching carefully as he lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“alright,” honing in on this stupid game, “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

eddie’s eyes light up, “take your shirt off,” immediately getting his own back.

“you’re supposed to say i dare you before your dare,” tutting at his impatience, though you do as he says.

lifting your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy bra you had most definitely chosen on purpose. maybe this was your plan all along, waiting to get him alone to inflict your cruel wrath upon him.

he ogles just enough to not have you mention anything, diverting his attention back to whatever drivel was on the tv. desperate to just get over this dancing around each other and get to the inevitable.

“truth or dare?” you ask again, poking his leg with your foot.

“do we have to play?” eddie whines.

“yes.”

“okay truth,” he spits, leaning back against the cushions.

“why didn’t it work out with you and chrissy?”

he groans again, already sick of this, “we wanted different things,” different things being you, he means.

“like what? i thought you were testing the waters or whatever?” mocking him with his own words.

“you. you jerked me off and ruined my life forever, is that what you wanted me to say?”

you ponder in silence for a moment before that god awful smirk creeps onto your face, “actually yes, that’s exactly what i wanted you to say,” crossing your legs, all self-righteous and smug.

it’s not like you didn’t already know this, it was fairly obviously to anyone with eyes and two brain cells to rub together.

“your turn,” smiling pointedly at you, “truth or dare?”

you hum, contemplating your options, whatever you picked, he was surely going to make it worth his while.

“dare.”

“alright,” eddie sits up straight, poking his tongue into his cheek, “i dare you to run around outside in your underwear,” if you wanted to play stupid games, you could win stupid prizes too.

your smile grows, taking over your entire face, “fine,” standing from your spot on the floor, shimmying out of your jeans right in front of him.

he jumps up, rushing to the door as you bound outside, filling the silent trailer park with your squeals and squeaks.

eddie watches in quiet amazement, more focused on the way your tits move with every bound, your lacy panties framing your jiggling ass perfectly. he’s close to drooling, turning into a slobbering mess at the sight of you literally frolicking in your panties. he was a pathetic man, and he knew it.

you turn, running full speed back into the door, teeth chattering and your hands trembling from the cold. barrelling straight past him, back into the warmth, lashes coated in tiny, intricate snowflakes.

“fuck!” you screech, “you asshole,” picking up his discarded shirt to slip on instead of your own. he wishes you hadn’t. seeing you half naked in his shirt was far worse than seeing you actually naked.

eddie snickers, closing the door all the while trying to keep his composure.

a smirk erupts onto your face, something ticking away in your brain before you stomp over, grabbing his cheeks with your ice cold hands, grinning with pure self satisfaction.

he hollers, grabbing your wrists in defence. it becomes a flailing sort of dance, with you trying to keep your cold hands on his face and him fighting to get you away. a mixture of expletives fill the trailer, screeching over one another as you move around the room.

you trip over one of the discarded bottles on the floor, sending you flying back onto the couch, still breathlessly cursing him out.

eddie takes the only logical step, pouncing on top of your flailing body, bounding your arms together at the wrist, heaving for breath.

he freezes, the realisation that for once he had all the power dawning upon him, unequipped for the sudden change in dynamic.

he can feel you, underneath him, pressed into the couch by his body, sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna do something or what?” you snark, no longer trying to wriggle free, accepting and even pleased in your defeat.

“yeah,” he adds meekly, despite not making an attempt to actually do something.

your brows thread together, knee sliding up the side of his body, spreading your legs further as his cock perks up in response.

holy fucking shit.

this was it.

or it could be it if he can gather his raucous thoughts enough to make a move.

eddie’s had sex before, multiple times in fact. he doesn’t understand why his hands aren’t doing the thing they should be, why he’s frozen in place, waiting for something to happen.

“we don’t have to, you know?”

fuck. he was going to fuck this up through sheer stupidity.

so instead of letting his brain worm his way out of what would probably be the best moment of his life, he thinks with his dick.

pressing his lips to yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. letting your hands free from his restraint, allowing you to weave your fingers through his hair just like he’d thought so much about.

his hands crawling underneath his shirt, touching your skin for what felt like the first time ever, gliding over your waist, appreciating the soft feel of your skin, lingering for too long.

he doesn’t want to take it off, how many times could he say he’d have sex with you with his shirt on?

you’d already stripped him out of his clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination as his hips grind down against yours, breathing shakily into your mouth.

your lips latch onto his, tongue sliding into his open mouth while your fingers pull gently at his curls.

even when eddie thinks he’s fully in control, you still take charge. rutting your hips upwards, separated by the thin layer of lace and his boxers that most definitely had a hole in them.

there’s a fifty percent chance that he’ll cum right away, already incredibly hard, teetering on the edge.

it’s genuinely incomprehensible that after months and months of longing and edging, this was finally happening. too caught up with trying to keep to your pace to really think about the implications on your relationship too much.

he hopes that this won’t change anything, at least not negatively anyway.

your hand slides down the tiny space left in between your bodies, toying with the waistband of his boxers before slipping in. unable to contain his groan from slipping out and into your mouth.

tugging the fabric down just enough to let his cock out, giving him no time to recover before your fist wraps around the base of his cock, pumping your fingers around the sensitive skin.

“fuck,” he breathes, bottom lip still latched onto yours. no hand had ever come close to yours, filling his thoughts since you’d touched him for the first time.

wayne’s ratty old couch wasn’t exactly the romantic location he’d envisioned this happening in, but beggars can’t be choosers and eddie certainly wasn’t going to complain.

he’s so dumbfounded that any of this is even happening, clumsily fumbling with the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down haphazardly, with no care or grace.

his previous displays of desperation made sure you didn’t care about his composure, or else you wouldn’t be here.

your lips collide, all teeth and tongues and spit. eddie too focused on the feel of your hand around his cock to care.

he can feel your body shift from underneath, manoeuvring his cock to your soaked entrance, letting out the most ungodly noise as the tip glistens with your slick.

pressing your sweaty forehead against his, begging for his full attention, “look at me,” you insist, running your fingers around his cock, withholding him from full satisfaction.

he does as you ask, finding your wild-eyed gaze, holding it just long enough to slide into your slick cunt, grunting into the hot air that hung around the room.

“fuck,” you bite, weaving your fingers through his hair, tightening your things around his waist.

it’s dizzying. feeling you envelope around him just as he’d imagined countless times before. you’re so warm and so wet, so so wet. eddie can’t help but wonder if this is how you’d felt when you were grinding against him.

nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the fuzzy haze that’d encapsulate his brain, thoughts only of you and your body and your pussy.

his balls slap against your ass, slow and steady, hoping not to bust five seconds in. keeping his eyes on yours, encapsulated by the way they flit between his eyes and his lips.

heaven wouldn’t be too far off this, he thinks.

his rhythm is neither here nor there but he was trying, filling you to the hilt and then pulling back out again.

every soft, melodic gasp and cry you made was echoing through his brain, spurring him on to make them louder.

purely intoxicated with your pussy, gasping for more as he slams against your hips.

this wasn’t going to last long but he sure as shit was going to make it worthwhile.

you writhe underneath his body, fingernails grazing against his scalp, gentle and yet demanding.

“sh-shit eds,” you pant, jaw slack with your tongue practically lolling out of your head.

just hearing you moan his name has detrimental effects on his brain chemistry. his eyelids struggle, fluttering open just enough to meet your glossy eyes, pupils blown out and crazy. this was going to wreck him for the rest of his life, cursed forever by the image of you and your parted lips. the way you wail his name becoming a tune he’d revisit constantly.

he’d love to capture it, one day, if you’d let him.

no one would ever come close to you, your cunt and your god forsaken sighs. eddie promises to himself that if there’s a next time, he’s not leaving until you cum. unsure if he’d be able to control himself but more than willing to take that risk.

his thrusts become sporadic, losing his grip on reality as he teeters closer and closer to the edge. you can see it too, tugging gently on his hair to bring him back to this reality.

pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, too high off of your own pleasure to aim for accuracy.

eddie’s not sure if he prefers your goading or this softer touch, honestly neither were helping him not to bust his load right now.

“yeah?” you breathe, in response to his hoarse grunts, succumbing to the tightening pressure in his stomach, “you gonna cum?” sighing against his mouth.

he doesn’t want to, not really. hoping this’d last forever and ever because god knows if you’d ever let him touch you again.

hoping desperately to have not wasted his one and only time buried inside of you by cumming in five minutes flat.

but he is going to cum, in fact, he’s dangerously close to doing so immediately. the way you squeeze and tighten around him only accelerating the inevitable, his toes curling and mouth running dry.

he was seeing stars, dancing around the inside of his eyelids. woozy on adrenaline as he pathetically ruts his hips into yours for a final few lousy strokes.

“oh fuck,” eddie rushes, “no- fuck i’m cumming,” his cock slides out, thick ropes of his release covering not only your inner thighs but the couch too. collapsing atop of your perfect body, pinning you to the cushions as he attempts to gain some sort of semblance of control.

his face finds your chest, heaving for breath between your tits, his shirt pulled up just enough for your bra to peep underneath the hem.

“jesus christ,” words vibrating against your skin, almost purring at your fingers combing through his hair.

nothing he could ever dream would match up to that. the neurons in his brain had been frazzled, never to work or compute the way they should, ever again.

he places a measly kiss to your chest, looking up at you through his lashes, an insignificant gesture of appreciation that he felt he owed.

“you good?” you ask, lips twitching into a smile, unsure if you’re mocking him or genuinely concerned. either or would be fine.

“not really,” still floating up above the clouds.

“shut up,” definitely mocking, pulling tufts of his hair back to have him meet your eye fully, “you liked that?”

he nods enthusiastically, pining after your approval like the lovesick little loser he truly was. incredibly, you hadn’t run off into the storm, so maybe you had too.

“good,” abruptly letting go of his hair, his head falling back onto your chest, “get off me, i need a shower,” attempting to peel him off of your body.

eddie knows, or at least hopes, that your snippy, sarcastic comments were made out of love. you showed affection by being a bitch and he showed his by being a stumbling, pathetic loser.

if that was all he had to endure to get anywhere near your pussy again, he’d do it in a heartbeat. each and every time.

wayne’s knuckles wrap against his bedroom door, waking eddie from the already broken sleep he was suffering with, far too excitable to settle down properly. instead he’d spent his hours between drifting in and out of sleep and watching your dreamy face, trying to match his breaths to yours.

he slides out of bed, careful not to wake you, treading carefully to avoid the mountains of crap strewn across the floor.

“what the hell?” wayne whispers angrily, gesturing back to the living room he had neglected to clean. too caught up in you being in his shower and in his bed with his shirt on to care about empty beer bottles and discarded clothes.

“sorry,” eddie squirms, knowing he couldn’t exactly worm his way out of this one. “we had a few beers.. you know,” shrugging coyly. his uncle wasn’t stupid, he definitely did know.

wayne’s eyes narrow, flitting behind eddie to you, sleeping soundly in his bed. thankfully covered by the blanket as you slept in just his shirt.

“what happened there?” raising his brow at his inconspicuous nephew.

he shrugs, and then he grins. that great big toothy grin that wayne couldn’t mistake.

wayne shakes his head, tutting to himself as he backs away from the door, “clean that shit up before i wake up,” before disappearing into his own room.

eddie smiles to himself, sliding back into bed when you stir, humming softly, displeased to have been woken up so early.

“is he mad?” you mumble, muffled by the pillow.

“no.. no, not really,” eddie hushes, turning on his side to face you.

you’re still dozing, not bothering to open your eyes though he didn’t mind, you were peaceful this way, far calmer than your usual self.

“good,” settling into the pillow before slinging your leg over his thigh, pulling yourself closer, “he loves me too much to do anything anyway,” nestling your body into his side.

if the world ended tomorrow, eddie would die a happy man.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson being pathetic #eddie munson x reader

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bruisedboys · 1 year

Text

love drunk — miguel o’hara x reader

summary — while miguel deals with a drunk and clingy you, you accidentally let it slip that you love him. requested here

grumpy x sunshine!! spidergirl!reader, no pronouns used but implied fem!reader, grumpy miguel, kind of ditzy reader, drunk reader, established relationship, first ‘I love you’ trope, miguel being lovesick, fluff. so much fluff

nav

implied fem!reader 1.3k words

Miguel thinks he should never let you drink again in your whole life.

“Y/N,” he says through gritted teeth, irritated now. Actually, he was irritated ten minutes ago but was doing a better job at hiding it. “Come on. Get off me.”

You’re dead weight in his lap. He wouldn’t mind, he likes when you sit on him like this, only you’re in the middle of the bar and there are at least five Peter’s looking his way and smirking, and he can see Hobie Brown laughing at him behind his hand across the room.

“Whyyyyy?” You drawl, your lips slow and your tongue slower. You paw at his chest and give him a glare that’s about as menacing as a puppy. “You’re so mean.”

Miguel sighs heavily. He picks up his hands where they’d been hovering at your sides, unsure whether he should touch you or not when you’re like this, and gets a good grip on your hips.

“C’mon, get up,” he says. He lifts you off his lap with ease, fingers curling around your hips, and deposits you in the booth seat next to him.

To Miguel’s surprise, you don’t flop into his side or try to climb back onto him like he thought you would. Where seconds ago you were like a rag doll, you sit rigid straight.

“What?” He asks you, genuinely confused.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, frowning to yourself. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not mean.”

Miguel blinks at you. “Oh. No, that’s not why I made you get off, sweetheart. I know you don’t actually think I’m mean.”

Slowly, you brighten up like a wind up toy, springing back to life in slow motion with a big smile painting itself across your mouth, all teeth. “Oh, okay. Can I get back on you now?”

Miguel actually laughs. He’s very tempted to say yes, you can sit in his lap as long as you like. He doesn’t, mostly because you’re very obviously past your limit and you need a bed and some water. Neither of which he can get you here.

“You’re funny, cariño,” he tells you, chucking you under the chin with his knuckles. You beam up at him, eyes squinting so much they’re half closed. He indulges himself in a squeezing of your cheek before breaking the news, “No, you can’t get back on me—“ Your face falls, “—But I can take you to bed?”

Your smile comes back so quick it’s alarming, and you nod vehemently. “Yeah, please.”

Miguel manages to get you out of the Spider-Bar (nicknamed by one of the Peter’s, he can’t remember which but Miguel refuses to call it that. It’s just a section off the second floor of Headquarters where Spider-people migrate to drink.) without you tripping over your own feet. He’s discovering you’re a very clumsy, clingy drunk. That, and you really can’t hold your liquor. He’s only had a little less than you and he feels completely fine. Other than the burning in his chest, though he’s pretty sure that has more to do with you and your presence than the alcohol.

He gets you into an elevator and holds you up when you slouch into his side. His arm around your hip and both of your hands clinging like vines to his free arm, tight enough to ache but he can’t bring himself to ask you to loosen your grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy your apparent desperation to stick to him like glue.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. A gaggle of Spider-Women wait on the other side, Jess among them. The younger girls giggle amongst themselves when they see the predicament they’ve caught their haughty boss in.

“Hey, Miguel,” Jess drawls as she sidles past him, Miguel practically dragging you out of the elevator now and out of the way of the girls. “Hey, Y/N.” She grins at your inebriated state, then looks to Miguel, “Early night?”

It’s almost midnight. Miguel can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. She probably is. “Yeah.”

“Miguel’s taking me to bed,” you pipe up, a lustful tone to your sticky, slurry voice that Miguel winces at. He hadn’t meant it like that. Clearly, your drunk mind had taken it that way. He’ll be sure to set the record straight once you’re safe and alone in his room.

Jess laughs loud. “Right. Well, have fun with that.”

She’s still laughing as the elevator doors slide shut. Miguel sighs. He’s not gonna hear the end of that for at least a week. You tug on his arm and smile up at him sweetly, and he forgets all about it.

“What is it, cariño?” He hums.

“Can you carry me? My feet are sore.”

Miguel indulges you. Partly because you’d asked and he’s yet again been tasked with the challenge of saying no to you (which he fails at every time), and partly because you’re slowing him down and he really wants to get to his room before he meets anyone else. He scoops you up easily, one arm hooked beneath your thighs and the other under your back. You giggle dazedly and hook your arms around his neck tight enough that it’d hurt anyone but Miguel, burying your face in his neck, your flyaway hair tickling his skin.

By the time he gets you to his room you’re half asleep in his arms. He’d let you sleep but your suit is constricting. He deposits you on the bed in the dark and switches on the lamp. He only manages to turn on his heels before you’re grabbing his arm, warm hand wrapping around his wrist with a clumsy desperation.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, eyes half closed.

Miguel pries your hand away gently. “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting your pyjamas.”

You allow it but you make a grab for him as soon as he’s back, hands warm at his waist. He stands in front of you and undresses you out of your spidersuit, then redresses you into the pyjamas you keep in his room. You keep quiet other than the occasional hiccup and despite your amorous comment earlier you don’t try anything, even when you’re completely bare-chested and Miguel is standing over you. While he pulls your shirt over you head, your hands find his hips and grip them like somebody’s trying to take him away from you.

He gives you a glass of water which you skull back like you’re about to die of thirst. He refills the glass and when he comes back you’ve turned the light off and buried yourself under the covers. He thinks you’re asleep until he goes to put the glass on the bedside table and your hand sneaks out of the sheets, reaching for him.

“Miguel…” you murmur, fingers brushing his abdomen. You tilt your head up towards him, searching for him in the dark.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned you’re not feeling well. He hopes you’re not the kind of drunk who throws up everything they drank. Though he can’t say he’d mind looking after you even if you were.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. It’s dark and he can barely see your face but he hears your next words just fine. “Thank you for looking after me … I love you.”

Miguel is so shocked he almost drops the glass of water he’s holding. Sure, he knew you had feelings for him. He knew you care for him about as much as he does for you, which is an inordinate amount. To hear you say it is different. His fondness for you multiplies by about a million and the chasm in his chest feels, not for the first time since he met you, a little bit smaller.

He knows you probably won’t remember it in the morning, but it’s been said and his chest is aflame. He sets the cup down and then crouches next to your lovely, tired face, and cups your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and then your lips. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes fall shut and you smile.

Miguel waits til he’s sure you’re asleep to say it back — vulnerability’s never really been his strong suit. He tucks hair away from your face, feeling a bit drunk himself. Just not from anything he drank. “I love you too, mi amor.”

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pucksandpower · 6 days

Text

Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?”

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

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