#for me that looks like being engaged in conversation more often than not

[sun-lit-goth]

I got big romantic and platonic turn offs that I shouldn’t shame myself for cause it truthfully bites me in and around the ass later

[hannieehaee]

LIKE YOU DO

18+ / mdi

summary: when your brother's best friend suddenly reveals his newfound crush on you, you find yourself at a crossroads, thinking back to your own unrequited crush on him from back in middle school, making you wonder if you should be the better person and give him a chance.

content: brother'sbestfriend!seungcheol, frienemies-ish to lovers, reader is jeonghan's adoptive sister of his same age, mentions of previous unrequited crush, lots of unserious banter, afab reader, they're both inexperienced, smut, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 7.8k

a/n: this one was kinda short sorry T-T i rlly enjoyed the concept though so it was fun to write! hope u guys enjoy!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

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"Jeonghan?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does Seungcheol keep showing up during my breaks to bring me coffee?"

"Oh. He's trying to break you down so he can ask you out," He responded in the most nonchalant way possible.

"What? Since when does Seungcheol even like me?"

"Are you kidding? he's had a huge crush on you since we were seventeen."

"Dude, what? Where the hell was that attitude back in middle school when I was following him around like a fucking loser?", you grumbled at the memory of your former unrequited crush.

It was pathetic to think about, but it was true. You had sadly had a tendency to follow your brother and his friend around during the majority of your tweens and teens, always carrying the false hope that Seungcheol would one day look your way. As expected, he never even so much as glanced at you during that period of your life.

It's not like you could blame him. You were just a few years behind the rest of the herd when it came to puberty, you were still donning braces and also had a less than favorable sense of style. By all means, you were a bit of a loser up until turning 16. However, it was still sad to know that the guy of your dreams simply saw you as a nuance he had to deal with in exchange for being able to hang out with your brother.

Except that had been well over two years ago (give or take). By the time you were 16 and a junior in high school, you were confidently over your crush. You had stopped following him around by the time you entered the second half of your teens, but your crush would still occasionally show remnants of itself any time he was around (which was often, as he and Jeonghan were practically attached to the hip). However, it was far more lowkey than before and eventually died down altogether. You were long past those awkward years of tweenhood and now had a developed sense of style, along with an air of confidence you now carried with you. Puberty hit you all at once and your entire persona changed along with it. You had an established group of friends and were even a bit popular, no longer needing to hang around Jeonghan and Seungcheol just for a glimpse of the boy's attention. By the time you were 16, you were over Choi Seungcheol.

This carried over to the last two years of high school, now with a completely different dynamic between you and your former crush. Despite attending the same grades at the same time, you did not belong to the same social circles, so you would not see each other too often. However, since your brother (and brother's best friend) continued to attend the same school as you those last two years of high school, you still bumped into Cheol from time to time, specially whenever Jeonghan would bring him over.

Over the years, Seungcheol came to see you as less of a nuance and more of a friend. After turning 16 (upon your glow up and the dissipation of your crush), he would engage in casual conversation with you. He would even seek you out on his own at times, though you were never too enthusiastic about these meetings. Middle school you would've been elated at such development, but you didn't think much of it after having gotten over your crush, now bitter over how it had all played out so fruitlessly for you.

After having gotten over your crush, you came to resent Seungcheol a bit, now realizing the way he used to sometimes take advantage of your crush to get you to be his lackey and how he would even make you the butt of jokes among his friend group (whenever your brother wasn't around, of course). During the years in which you were infatuated with him, you truly believed it was just some sort of inside joke between the two of you; a 'will they, won't they' type of dynamic. However, upon leaving that childish phase of your life, you began to look back at it in embarrassment. After that, you distanced yourself from him. During ages 16 and up, you would even come to avoid him, something which Jeonghan thankfully never commented on despite having also been aware of your former crush.

And now. Now you were being made privy to the fact that Seungcheol had apparently begun to return your crush only a little over a year after you got over yours. At seventeen, Jeonghan said. That's the year you like to believe you truly got your act together. After your glow up at 16 years of age (appearance and personality-wise), you began to engage in new hobbies, new friend groups, and overall went through a full transformation of your former loser self (or at least that's how Seungcheol had made you feel all those years). You had put all relationship related interests aside since your catastrophic crush on Seungcheol left you high and dry. After graduating, you even left the country for a few months, deciding to start college a semester after your brother to explore the world a bit in order to find yourself before starting school back up again.

That period of time proved very useful to you. You mingled in the arts of casual dating in your absence (something which you had never done thanks to your irremovable crush), made friends, took up new interests, and most of all, grew out of any remnants of your former feelings for Seungcheol.

Except that all came crumbling down the moment you came back, suitcase in hand, and found Seungcheol at the door of your brother's apartment upon your arrival for your move-in day with your brother, which now seemed to include Seungcheol in the equation.

You had been less than elated when your brother suddenly informed you that instead of solely moving in with him in order to begin attending his university, you would now be sharing the apartment with an unwanted guest – Seungcheol. This had been the first time you saw him again after graduating, which had also been your last day to see anyone for the past six months over the duration of your trip.

Since your brother had begun attending school while you took a sabbatical from education, he had found himself an apartment so you would have a place to move into upon your return. The agreement had been for the two of you to be the sole habitants, until Seungcheol suddenly decided to attend the same university as you and your brother, promptly moving in with Jeonghan in your absence. It seemed like that had been the original plan, one which died when Seungcheol simply decided to stay, moving his things out what was supposed to be your room and moving them into what then became a shared room between him and Jeonghan.

This was when you first began to have suspicions about Seungcheol.

Although your crush had died down about two years back, you still felt awkward in his presence. His existence was a constant reminder of his consistent rejection of your feelings, something which had not helped your confidence much in the past. But it now seemed like Seungcheol had been the one seeking you out more than the other way around. Even back when you were saying your goodbyes before leaving on your vacation, Seungcheol had seemed even more disappointed at your prolonged absence than your own brother. You hadn't thought much of it at the time, except that this behavior kept up as the two of you became roommates.

Seungcheol would now walk you to class whenever possible, even when it meant going out of his way. He would lend you notes from the classes he had taken the prior semester; ones which you were currently having to take. He would show up between your classes with either drink or food in hand. He'd stop by your workplace at the school's cafe whenever he had down time. He'd stare down any guy that would try and interact with you in any of these instances. You were completely casual about it, trying to not read too much into it, but the worst thing about it all was that you liked it. You liked the attention he was finally giving you.

Though you were suspicious about Seungcheol's intentions, you had never considered the possibility of Seungcheol actually liking you romantically until your brother had so casually informed you just now. Even through your immediate complaint about it, your heart sped up at the thought. Your mind went back to every single memory of your own crush on him, thinking back to every single thing you used to like about him. Up until the moment in which Jeonghan called your attention once more, having answered your question but receiving no response from you due to the extended internal monologue you had gone through due to the sudden revelation.

"Sorry, what did you say?", you finally responded.

He chuckled at your absent-mindedness, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. "I said that your crush was just puppy love. He can't help that he didn't return your feelings at the time. It's been like what, three years since you got over him? Are you really still mad about it?", replied Jeonghan as he nudged you to eat the muffin he had bought you over twenty minutes ago.

Puppy love? It sure didn't feel like it during all those years in which you pined over him. But maybe Jeonghan was right. Maybe it had simply been interpreted as a harmless crush by both Seungcheol and Jeonghan. Except this did not justify every single remembrance of Seungcheol's constant dismissal and mockery of your feelings through the years, only ever looking your way once you were finally over him.

You took a deep breath, deciding to try and be rational in your response, "He mocked me over my crush for years, Jeonghan. He made me the butt of every joke and took advantage of how into him I was for his own entertainment. He only ever started respecting me when I changed my appearance and personality completely. Why should I even consider giving him a chance?"

"Hey, I'm not telling you to do that. Just keep an open mind, okay? We were kids. I'm sure he meant it all in good fun. You know he can be kind of an idiot at times," he took a pinch of the untouched muffin in front of you, "Is there no part of you that maybe still likes him?"

"Did you come to my workplace to harass me into dating your best friend?", you snatched the muffin away – the muffin he had 'bought' despite getting a discount due to your position as a barista, "I'm not the same loser I was in middle school, I have options."

"Oh, yeah?", he smirked, "Then how come you've never had a boyfriend?"

"I'm only 19, it's not like I've dedicated my entire life to celibacy. If I wanted one I could get one. Easy," you argued, "Are you gonna leave any time soon? I need to get back to work," you began to gather his and your cup to head back to your work duties.

"There's literally no one here," he whined, "And stop dodging my questions. Do you like him? Do you want a relationship or not?", he pushed, "I'm your brother, you're supposed to trust me with this type of stuff."

"Adoptive brother," you corrected as you wiped the table Jeonghan was still sitting at.

"Don't say that. I hate it when you say that," he whined.

"You know what? You're right," you decided, halting your movements.

"I am?"

"Yeah. I should get a boyfriend."

"Oh. You mean someone who isn't Seungcheol, don't you?", he sighed.

"Of course. I'm not just gonna come crawling back to him just because he decided he likes me now. And you're right. Now that I'm over my crush and I'm back home, I should get a boyfriend. Maybe that'll get Cheol off of me," you declared.

"So it is about Cheol then."

"Jeonghan, shut up!"

Things changed for you after that conversation. Or at least the way you looked at Seungcheol shifted.

While you had questioned why he would suddenly begin showing up as frequently as he did, showing genuine interest in your company, you had not once entertained the thought of him liking you. Jeonghan informing you of his crush in such a nonchalant way also made you realize that Seungcheol had been quite obvious about his sudden liking to you, always becoming standoffish when other guys were around and even carrying your backpack for you.

The thought of him liking you pleased you. Even if you wanted to be in denial about it, your crush finally being reciprocated was something you had given hope on back when you were about 15. However, knowing that Seungcheol only started seeing you in a non platonic way after your feelings had finally dissipated also annoyed you beyond belief. How was it fair? He got to tease you and treat you as if you were nothing but a nuance for years, only to turn around a few years later and decide he wanted you? You weren't about to stand for it.

You meant it when you told Jeonghan that you would consider entering the dating scene.

For years, you hoped Seungcheol would eventually like you back, so you never even as much as looked in anyone else's way. When you got over your crush, your pride was too wounded to even think about romance. The only exception had been during your trip overseas, where you dated boys here and there, but it was never anything that lasted over a few weeks. Now was finally the time to begin dating.

Okay, granted. Maybe part of you was doing this just to give Seungcheol a taste of his own medicine, but that part didn't matter too much. You decided you'd just disregard his crush just like he did yours; drinking in all the extra attention but never doing anything about it

~

"Hey, wait up!"

You slowed down without looking back, able to recognize that voice even in your sleep.

"Forget about me? I always walk you to your next class," he chuckled, breathless, "Uh, here. Got you your favorite," he said as he handed you a beverage of your choice.

"Thanks, Cheol," you replied, disinterested as usual.

Even before knowing about his intentions, you had kept a very clear emotional distance from Seungcheol for the past couple of years. You were sure he was aware that your crush had died down years ago, now leaving you completely indifferent towards him, but he never once brought it up. The most reaction you could gauge out of him was the way he deflated a bit every time you spoke to him and failed to show the same enthusiasm you once did.

"So, any plans this weekend?"

"Oh, yeah. Going on a date," you said nonchalantly.

This made him stop in his tracks, causing you to have to slow down your walking once again to turn back and look at him in feigned interest.

"A date? W-what, with who?", he spluttered, a frown making its way on his face.

"Just some guy I met on tinder," you responded, "C'mon, I need to get to class," you nudged him.

He took your instruction to keep walking, still frowning, "A guy from tinder? You don't even know him? I- Is your brother okay with this?"

"It's not really any of his business, now, is it?", you scoffed.

"Since when are you even dating anyway? I thought you needed time to 'find yourself'. Isn't that the whole reason you were gone for half a year?", grumbled Seungcheol.

"Not like it's any of your business, but yeah, I am dating. I'm 19, it's not like I've never dated. I went on dates while I was traveling. It's not that big of a deal."

"You dated? What? And you never told me?"

This made you stop in your tracks, turning to him and making him halt too.

"'Tell you'? Why would you need to know anything about my dating life? We're not even friends."

"Oh, so now we're not friends? I've known you literally since the day Jeonghan's parents brought you home and now we're not friends?", he was beginning to get agitated, you could tell.

Pushing his buttons was fun at first, but now you were also starting to feel frustration at his entitlement over you.

"As far as I can remember, we've never been friends. You just liked the attention I gave you and made a joke of me for years. Is that friendship to you?"

"We- we shouldn't talk about this here, okay?" he looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to the two of you, but saw that only a few other students were walking by, completely unsuspecting.

"You know what, Cheol? Thanks for the drink. I can get to class alone. I'll see you at home," you snatched your bag from his arms and marched away, leaving a confused Seungcheol behind.

"Cheol told me you guys got into a fight," was the first thing Jeonghan said as he walked into your workplace at 7:30 sharp in the morning.

"God, it's bad enough I have to live with the two of you, do you need to gossip about me too?"

"I told you about his crush in confidence! I can't believe you'd betray my trust like this," he said with zero emotion behind his words.

"No you didn't."

"No I didn't", he giggled, "Give me my usual, yeah?", he took a seat on the counter right in front of you, grabbing a nearby muffin to accompany the drink you were now making him.

"So you're really dating now?", he inquired after less than five seconds of silence.

"How much did Seungcheol tell you?"

"He gave me a rundown of the entire conversation."

You groaned at this. Men were truly the nosier gender.

"Yes, I'm going on a date with some guy from one of my classes tomorrow."

"I thought you said he was from tinder?"

"I just assumed it'd annoy Cheol even more if he thought I was choosing some random guy over him."

"That's mean", he pouted, followed by a grin, "Good job."

You handed him his drink and took a moment to sit down from your side of the counter, sighing dramatically at your brother.

"Are you really not interested in Cheol at all?", he rubbed at your arm to show comfort.

"I ... Maybe? I liked him for so long. It's hard for that to just go away, specially knowing he likes me back. But I can't just let him win me over so easily, you know?"

"Maybe you should talk to him? Let him explain his thought process and see if it's worth giving him a chance."

"Maybe," you sighed.

"Not 'maybe.' You're talking to him. Spending a single night with the two of you while you were icing each other out was enough for me. I told him I'd stay somewhere else tomorrow night so the two of you can talk after your date. It's a done deal."

"Dude! Can you stop making decisions for me? I-"

"I'm your older brother. It's in the fine print," he argued.

"Adoptiv-"

He grabbed the muffin and put it to your lips, interrupting your sentence, "That's enough of that."

You opted to just let him win (yet again) and mentally prepare yourself for your conversation with Seungcheol the following day.

Joshua.

That was the name of the guy you'd be going on a date with this afternoon.

He was cute, polite, smart, and seemed to be an overall great guy based on the few interactions you'd had with him during class. He was actually who you used to walk to class with before Seungcheol had intercepted your routine by forcing his way into your schedule.

You weren't particularly excited about going on this date. Joshua was the perfect guy by all means, but you didn't feel any type of spark when you were with him. You were pretty sure he didn't either. It was hard to tell. Nothing really compared to the way you felt for Seungcheol during the majority of your teens. You doubted you'd ever crush on someone so hard ever again.

You had never admitted it out loud, but you were pretty sure your crush on Seungcheol had at some point become love. You didn't just like Seungcheol, you (had) loved him, which made getting over your infatuation even harder. It had also made that unbecoming feeling of rejection much harder to let go of. The reminder of the constant rejection you had gone through was enough to not even entertain the idea of looking at Seungcheol with the same enamored eyes you always reserved for him ever again.

And so now you were getting ready for your date. Whether anything came of it didn't matter too much to you. You needed to show both Seungcheol and your brother that you were truly over Seungcheol. That you wouldn't fall for him when it was finally convenient for him.

~

The date was overall nice.

The two of you had opted for something casual, deciding to an arcade and have a casual meal that consisted of nachos and some convenience store ramen afterwards.

The date felt like an outing you'd have with any other friend. Maybe because that's what it actually was in the end.

It didn't take too much time into your date for both you and Joshua to say what you were thinking – You were better off as friends. You both chuckled at it, finding it comedic how you had both had the same thought, meaning there would be no hard feelings at the end of the day.

The night was spent playing games and bantering with one another. It was a casual and quite relaxing outing between two friends. Which is what left Joshua to inquire as to why you had asked him out in the first place as he walked you back to your apartment.

"There's, uh, this guy I'm trying to get over," you decided to be honest with him. You could really see a friendship forming here, plus he seemed like a trustworthy guy, so lying would be fruitless.

"Ah. Makes sense", he clicked his tongue, "Is it Choi Seungcheol by any chance?"

That caught you off guard. And it must've shown in your face, as Joshua chuckled in return before continuing.

"I've just noticed the two of you together a lot lately, that's all. What's the story?"

If only Joshua had known about the length of the story you were about to tell him, he likely would not have asked, but the simple question was enough to fire you up and let him in on every excruciating detail.

By the end of it, Joshua's face had gone through every reaction. From surprised, to angry (likely in empathy), to apprehensive.

"Well, he sounds like he was a dick in high school-"

"Right!"

"But ...."

"'But'?!"

"Listen. You were what, 15? Guys are so dumb at that age. I did my fair share of dumb things. And having a pretty girl be so into you at that age would give any guy a huge ego. Maybe he's being honest about his feelings," he had reasoned.

"Why is everyone on his side? What, am I supposed to just forgive him?"

"Of course not. But maybe part of you still likes him. You shouldn't let your pride get in the way of finally being with the guy you like."

That last statement had left you thinking.

You already had doubts about your feelings for Cheol, knowing that your conflict towards his newfound feelings was enough indication to realize that you might've still been holding a torch for him.

But it was his comment about pride that really had you reconsidering things.

Was it really just your pride stopping you from even giving Seungcheol a chance?

The way that you saw it, if you gave in to Seungcheol now that he finally liked you back, it only proved how weak you were for him, how easy it was for him to just snap his fingers and have you at his feet once again.

But you also needed to consider the fact that he had liked you since seventeen. You were both nineteen now, going on twenty. He had held back on his feelings for two years, hoping that you'd someday reciprocate once more. Clearly he wasn't hoping to use your old crush against you, or else he would've done so already.

These conflicting thoughts plagued your mind all the way until Joshua hugged you goodbye at your apartment door, while you were unaware of Seungcheol watching the two of you with a frown from the small window behind you, completely misreading the situation.

"Joshua Hong? That's the guy you're dating?", were the first words he said to you when you walked in, fully washed with venom and disdain.

This was starting off well.

"Were you spying on me?"

"You didn't answer my question," he rebutted.

You walked past him and let yourself fall back on the couch, sighing at the conversation you knew was awaiting.

"Cheol. Stop beating around the bush by snooping into my life," you started, the beating of your heart betraying the confidence in your voice, "Jeonghan told me you wanted to talk, so talk."

"Is there even a point? If you're already taken, do I even have a chance?", he chuckled bitterly, taking a seat across from you on a lone loveseat.

Oh.

This was the first time Seungcheol had ever acknowledged his romantic feelings towards you in the two years in which he's supposedly had them. It made you feel weak to admit it, but that statement alone already had your resolve melting.

"I- I'm not taken. Joshua and I are just friends."

"You came back home together at 10. You're wearing a skirt. I saw the two of you hug outside. Am I missing something?", he scoffed.

"Dude, I- What? Those are all completely platonic things. Not like you have any right to complain anyways .." you trailed off.

"Okay, if it's not a date then why did you tell me it was one on Wednesday? Huh?"

"Because I wanted you to know what it felt like!", you blurted, abruptly getting up from the couch.

"What? You-"

"It's not fair, Seungcheol! I liked you. For years. And you never looked my way. You made fun of me, you used me, you ignored me. I was just some dumbass who couldn't take a hint, and now you like me? Now you wanna know who I'm dating and who I like? Hah," you were halfway through your rambles before you realized it.

He got up from his spot and walked over to you, solemn and hurt look on his face. He seemed embarrassed by your statement, though also accepting of it.

"You- you're right. I never took you seriously. I ... I always just saw you as Jeonghan's weird little sister, I-"

"We're the same age!"

"Okay, but Jeonghan was always so protective towards you, I always thought of you as a little kid. I'm sorry, I know how harsh and unfair that sounds, but I don't want to lie to you. I don't know what changed, or when it did, but I- at some point I just couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathed out.

"Hah," you chuckled bitterly, "Was this when I changed my look, Cheol? Are you that shallow?"

"N-no! Listen, I know the timing was bad, but it wasn't that. I always thought you were pretty. I know you probably didn't see it for yourself, and ... I know my teasing probably didn't help your confidence, – and that's something I regret so badly – but you've always been beautiful. It had nothing to do with that, I swear," he held his hand to his chest as if to swear by his words.

You couldn't help blushing at his words, avoiding eye contact for a moment before responding.

"Then what was it?"

"I guess I just missed you", he shrugged sadly, "I got so used to having you around and to knowing how much I meant to you. I took you for granted, and I regretted it the moment I lost you," it was his turn to feel embarrassed, "When you stopped seeking me out, I finally began to see what you were like past your crush. You were so fun and carefree. So nice and, and beautiful. You saw me in rose-colored glasses and I just didn't see you at all. Not until then," he finished.

"What does this all mean, Cheol?" you said, almost exasperated, "Am I supposed to forget the way you'd mock me or just straight up ignore me for years? Yeah, sure, we were kind of beginning to become friends once high school was almost over, but it didn't mean anything to me by that point. I was just over it."

"And are you over me?"

"What?"

He lifted his eyebrow in question, taking a few steps towards you.

"Are you really completely over me? Do you feel nothing at all?", his eyes were confidently following your gaze as he questioned you.

"I- Yes, I am," you gulped unwillingly, taking a few steps back as he took some forward.

"I don't believe that. I mean, you left only for a few months and I never stopped thinking about you ... There's no way you got over me that suddenly, is there?"

"You think too highly of yourself, Cheol-"

"So you feel nothing at all?", he had made his way into your personal space by now, almost crowding you against the wall, "Aren't you curious, at least? Don't you wanna see if there's anything left?", he breathed out.

"I, Cheol, I-"

"Just tell me no. Push me away. Tell me to fuck off and I'll leave you alone," his gaze fell to your lips, slowly making its way back to your eyes again.

"I can't, I ... Cheol ..."

Due to your lack of rejection, Seungcheol closed the gap, gently pressing his lips against you as he let out a breath of relief in his kiss.

You'd kissed a few boys during your time away. Hell, you'd even kissed Joshua earlier today, but neither of those experiences had felt quite like this. During all those exchanges, Seungcheol had always somehow been in the back of your mind, making you wonder what it would've been like if he had been the guy you were kissing instead. Now you finally knew what it was like ... And you were already growing addicted.

It was only a few seconds into the kiss when the two of you let your desire for the other take over. He groaned against your lips as you ran your hands through his hair, pulling his face as close to your own as possible. His hands ran down to your waist and caressed your back in a way far too desperate for the first kiss shared between the two of you.

With no words, he kissed you until running out of breath, eventually lowering his head so he could attack your neck with licks and nips to the sensitive skin on there. You leaned your head to the side, allowing him more room to suck into as he rejoiced in your sighs of pleasure.

It was a mutual exchange. The two of you seemed to be equally desperate for the other, your wandering hands never halting in the exploration of the other's body. His hands eventually dared to venture under your top, slowly sneaking their way towards your breasts. He kissed your lips once more as his hands caressed and played with your tits, moaning against your mouth every time you'd whine at his touches.

"Angel ...", he breathed against your lips, "Are you still sure? Are you still sure you don't want me?", his words were slightly muffled by his inability to disconnect from you for more than a second.

"I need- fuck, Cheol ... Just-"

"I know ... It's okay. You don't have to say it," he pushed his tongue into your mouth once again.

Cheol separated from you and led you to your room by your hand, closing the door before pressing you up against it and kissing you again.

The way he kissed you was nothing but sensual and full of emotion, making you forget any complaint you had against him as his lips connected to yours again and again.

His hands took advantage of your caged in position, feeling up every curve and squeezing at his favorite parts. There was a depraved urgency behind his movements, almost as if he had been aching to do this; burning to finally have you to his full disposition. When he seemingly had his fill of caressing every inch, he pulled away barely enough to speak (which had been a feat, as your lips desperately followed his, and his own were unable to resist yours at first).

"Let me take you to bed," be begged, "I've wanted you for years. Please, let me have you," he plead against your lips, giving you a languid peck as he finished his request.

"Cheol ..."

He pulled away a bit more at the hesitancy in your voice, "I know I was an asshole. I know I hurt you for years. I know I don't deserve you," he took a deep breath before intensely looking into your eyes, "but I can't stop thinking about you. If you ever felt even an ounce of what I've felt towards you since we were seventeen, then I'm so sorry to have caused you such pain. I was a stupid teenager who felt too cool to look your way long enough to realize you were far too good for me. Please. Please, I'll beg if you want me to , just ... Give me a chance," he finished with a pained expression in his eyes, voice wavering by the end of his speech.

"You made me feel like such an idiot, like-"

"I'm the idiot – Me! You're perfect," he grabbed onto your hands and brought them up to his lips, "I love you. So much. Jeonghan's so fed up of hearing me tell him how in love with you I am. All my friends know how I feel about you. I'll embarrass myself time and time again proving it to you," dropping your hands, he wrapped his arms around you again, bringing you closer to him as his eyes dropped to your lips.

That had been a shock.

You had never expected for Seungcheol's feelings to be anything more than superficial, much less did you expect for him to confess to you in such a way. The thought of him gushing about you to his friends was enough to make you blush, but knowing that he was willing to prove his feelings for you as much as you saw fit made you weak at the knees. This was all you had ever wanted, tenfold. If your current reaction to his revelation was anything to go by, then you were now realizing that your feelings for him had never truly gone away. You had carried a torch for Seungcheol all these years, even when you thought you had completely gotten over him. Even when you weren't thinking of him, he was always plaguing your mind.

And so you kissed him.

You put all previous hesitancy aside and followed your desires, pulling him to you as you let passion take over.

He didn't question you, choosing to press you up against him instead, blindly walking the two of you towards your bed and laying you down in it, crawling on top of you once more to keep kissing you.

No words were exchanged for a while, the only sounds filling up the room were made up of your collective moans and the ruffling of the bedsheets – result of the way you were feeling each other up. You were glad Jeonghan had decided to stay elsewhere tonight. Hell, he probably knew the two of you would snap and end up in the way you evidently did.

Pulling away for a quick moment, Seungcheol pulled away and threw off his shirt, causing the cloudiness in your mind to clear up for a moment so you could lean up and run your hands through his bare chest, earning a chuckle from him.

"Like what you see?", he smirked like the cockiest shit you'd ever seen, except it kinda worked on you regardless.

But you couldn't let him have the upper hand here, so you did what any sensible girl would do and threw off your own top, leaving you in a pretty lacy bralette.

The smirk wiped off his face immediately as his eyes lowered to your breasts. To make matters worse for him, you decided to sensually pull off your bra, making a little show out of it just to see how much lust would overtake him at the sight.

"Fuck ...", he muttered, leaning down so he could get his hands on you.

You stopped him before he could, however. Smirking at him, "You have to ask, Cheollie."

"Angel ... Don't play this with me."

"Ask, or else you can't touch me."

"I- Fuck. Please. Can I touch them?," he breathed out, eyes still glued to your chest as you played with your own mounds just to mock him.

You nodded, taking his arms and leading them to your chest.

He took full advantage of this, feeling you up like a starved man devouring his last meal. His mouth joined in on the fun soon after, kissing and licking at your nipples, groaning whenever your hands would pull at his hair.

He undressed the rest of you during the following minutes, making quick work of your shoes, his own, and your skirt. His pants were the last to go, leaving the two of you in just your underwear.

"Help me take it off?", he led your hands to his hardened cock, hooking your fingers on his boxers so you could get them off for him. You pulled his face down to your own and sucked on his tongue as your other hand aided him in removing his boxers. He did the same to your panties, finally crawling on top of you again, with your bare crotches finally facing one another.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he breathed against your lips, beginning a slow grind against your cunt.

You ground against each other like animals in heat for a while, losing your breaths with the other's lips. The way his hardened length graced your folds with the perfect friction had you getting wetter by the second, making you wail against his lips.

"Can I eat you out, baby?," he groaned into your mouth, a desperate look in his eyes.

"Y-yes, fuck," you cried.

He kissed at your nude body on his way down, licking and sucking splotches of red and purple wherever he could until reaching your thighs, using his strong arms to open them and wedge himself between them.

"God ... Been dreaming of kissing up these thighs for years. You're so fucking gorgeous, do you even know?", he sounded pained as he said so, pressing soft kisses at the softest part of your thighs, "Dreamt about you since were seventeen," he blew cold air into your cunt, causing you to retract a bit.

"Cheol ..."

"Is this how you felt? Huh? Did you want me just as badly as I did you?", he finally gave you an experimental lick, groaning at the taste, "But you never got over me, did you? That's good," he nodded to himself, licking more and more, "That way I get to keep you," and that was all he could say before his mouth became fully occupied by your cunt.

And he was right. Even as your crush died down, you got older and began to have thoughts about him. Thoughts that accompanied you on the many lonely nights while you were abroad and away from him. During all those nights in which you swore you were over him. It was nice to know that you'd had a similar effect on him these past few years.

You didn't have much time to ponder about it as Seungcheol quite literally lost himself between your legs. His arms proved to be as strong as they looked, forcing your legs open even as the stimulation made you try and close them around his head. His groans of pleasure against your weeping cunt did not help matters, simply leading you to your end all the faster.

"Fucking delicious, fuck. No one's ever had this before, right, beautiful? You've been saving this cunt for me? Hmm?", he slurred his words while he made out with your pussy, groaning once more when you whimpered in confirmation, "Need to taste you, angel. Cum for me, fuck. Wanna be the first one to feel you like this," he rambled, delirious on your taste.

And you were equally as delirious, falling apart for him almost as if your body had been following his direction. He continued to make sinful sounds against your cunt as he tasted you all through your high, making you even more lightheaded than you already were.

Giving you no time to recover, Seungcheol climbed atop you once more and made you swallow any words you may have had by sealing your lips with his own, forcing your the remnants on your taste onto your own tongue. You battled each other like this once more, hands careless as they grabbed at one another in desperation.

"C-condom?", be pulled away to ask.

"No, Cheol. I- You don't carry?", you managed to let out.

"I, No. I- I've never ..."

He looked uncharacteristically bashful, making you tilt your head in curiosity. Until it hit you.

"You're a virgin?"

He pulled away at this, sitting up a bit on the bed and creating a small distance between the two of you.

"It's not- I've done stuff before, just not ... this. I, uh, I was waiting for you," he confessed, forcing his eyes away from your gaze.

This broke your heart, but in a good way.

If you had any remnants of doubt in your mind about his sincerity about his crush, they were gone now. He had waited. For you. He wanted you to be his first, so he waited for you to come back. He waited for you to like him again. In the same way you had never seriously dated anyone before, he waited.

"Cheol ..."

He must've misinterpreted your tone, as he continued to refuse eye contact with you, seemingly embarrassed at being a virgin for some reason.

So you took matters into your hands, grabbing onto him with a confident hand and pulling him into you once more. With some unexpected strength, you managed to switch positions with him, now straddling him as his back laid against your mattress.

Before he could question you, you kissed him again, this time with a passion you knew you could only reserve for Seungcheol. He kissed you back with equal want, making you feel like you'd reached a stage of nirvana no one had ever before. Every emotion behind the kiss was far too intense to even describe.

The rest of the exchange was almost wordless, with a few silences being filled by praise for one another. You finally sat yourself down on him, condomless, but not regretful at all for your decision. If you were to ever let anyone impale you without filter, it'd be him.

The bruises he left on your hips were accepted with delight. It was only fair, seeing as your nails also left marks on his chest. The two of you left your mark on the other; a silent way of letting the other know who they belonged to.

You bounced and ground on top of him, almost wailing at the way in which his hands guided your movements in such a desperate way. At some point you began shamelessly humping against each other, filling the space with depraved sounds of pleasure.

Cheol looked down to the spot connecting you, groaning upon seeing the wetness seeping from your cunt, but decidedly bringing a hand towards your mound in order to toy with your clit. The arch of your back and extra tightness of your cunt were enough for his orgasm to approach more rapidly than planned.

"With me," he rasped, "Cum with me ... Need your first time to be with me. Just like this."

You barely registered his words. Your eyes were already rolled back, and your back arched almost to the point of breaking. Your toes completely curled and your nails digging into his reddened chest. But you understood, and your body acted accordingly, bringing you into orgasm as he softly counted you down, leading to an almost perfectly synchronized high.

A few moments of comfortable silence (sans the heavy breathing) went by before Seungcheol carefully pulled out of you with a low groan and did his best at cleaning you up with some kleenex near your bed. He gave you a soft peck after he was done, settling the two of you under the covers and held you in his arms.

"Always wanted this part too."

"Hmm?"

"To hold you like this", he clarified, smiling down at you.

Blushing involuntarily, you agreed, cuddling further into his warm chest, leading him to softly run his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner.

"I meant everything I said. I'll always regret treating you the way I did. There's no reason why you should, but I hope you'll forgive me," he sounded pained at his own words, likely feeling genuine hatred for the way in which he behaved during your early teenage years.

You pulled away from his chest, creating a small distance between you so you could look into his eyes properly.

"Seungcheol, I ... I love you," you started, "And I forgive you. I was wrong to judge you so harshly for not liking me the way I wanted you to back then. I'm sorry for letting my pride get in the way. I shouldn't have iced you out after I got over you. It was the only way at the time to protect myself from the rejection and-"

"Stop," he went to hold your cheeks in his hands, "You have nothing to apologize for. You forgiving me is all I wanted, and ... and knowing you feel the same is more than I was ever expecting. We'll move past all that, okay?"

"Okay," you nodded sweetly.

"Now ... Is it too soon to ask you to be official?"

"You waited until after popping my cherry to ask me out?", you laughed.

"In my defense ..."

"You have none!"

"Okay, whatever! Just say yes so Jeonghan doesn't continue to suffer through my rants about how much I like his sister," he pulled you into his arms again, returning your laughter.

"Fine! Yes! We're official," you feigned annoyance, but were unable to not mimic his own smile.

It had taken far too long, but you finally had the upper hand. He liked you. He asked you out. He was yours. The wait had been worth it.

To read short 2k word continuation u can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, penetrative sex, deprived cheol, banter with jeonghan, etc.

wc: 989 (teaser); 2009 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Okay, I need the two of you to get the hell out of my apartment."

That had been the way in which Jeonghan welcomed the two of you upon walking in on you and Seungcheol calmly watching a movie together in your shared living room.

It had now been three months since you and Seungcheol began officially dating. Since you were roommates, this also meant that you were now living with your boyfriend. Despite the fact that Cheol and your brother shared a room together (leaving you with a room of your own), Seungcheol still had the tendency of spending a few nights per week sleeping over at your room.

So far, the dynamic between the three of you hadn't changed too much. The biggest difference was that now you and Seungcheol finally developed more of a friendship than you had during the period of time between high school and college in which you had begun to ice him out in order to protect your own feelings. That, however, died down as soon as you moved in, eventually leading to your current romantic relationship with each other.

Jeonghan had been happy for you, having known that if he forced the two of you (and subsequently left you two alone in the apartment) to talk, you'd inevitably end up confessing your feelings and finally getting together. He had seen it coming since middle school, he had said. It only took about six years for his matchmaking to come into fruition, but it led to some pretty interesting slowburn – his words, not yours.

In these past three months, however, some awkward moments had arisen.

Being your brother, Jeonghan always found it uncomfortable whenever he happened to be around when you and Seungcheol would do couple activities. Seeing you hang out was fine, obviously, but a few weird instances had already left him traumatized.

So far, he had walked in on you making out a total of five times, feeling each other up over your clothes two times, Seungcheol making eyes at you seven times, had come across your discarded underwear three times, and had even walked in on you having sex once. At some point a line had to be drawn, and apparently he had chosen that to he now.

"Dude, you're the one who wanted us to get together," you argued.

"I wanted the mutual pining to stop, not to almost walk in on my sister getting railed every other day. Leave!," he said, though he simply sat down on the couch, forcibly creating a wedge between you and Cheol.

"Let's just go to your room, babe," Seungcheol got up, taking your hand while giving Jeonghan a dirty look, "Nuance," he grumbled.

"You're the nuance," responded Jeonghan, though already immersed with the popcorn and TV he had stolen from you.

Seungcheol led you to your room, closing the door behind you and instantly turning to you.

"Hi, baby," he whispered, holding you close to him.

"Hi," you giggled at him.

He leaned down to kiss you, his hands on the small of your back and pressing you up against him. His lips were basically on yours before Jeonghan's sudden voice made the two of you jump back in surprise.

"Don't have sex! I swear to God, if I hear the two of you having sex one more time, I'm evicting you! Just sleep like normal people!," he had yelled from the living room.

He had a bit of a point. The walls were relatively thin here, and you weren't exactly quiet when you had sex.

Seungcheol groaned and buried his face in your neck, "Baby, will you still love me if I kill your brother?"

"I'll love you even more," you pouted.

He snickered, removing his head from your neck and giving you a singular peck on your lips, "C'mon, let's go to sleep."

~

The two of you had initially thought that Jeonghan's complaint about you having sex had been a fluke. You believed that maybe he was stressed that day and that he hadn't meant what he said when he stated that he did not want the two of you to sleep together anymore. However, his words proved to be more literal throughout the following week.

Any time the two of you were so much as together, Jeonghan would groan and complain, saying that if he caught the two of you doing anything less than PG, he would cause 'any trouble possible to stop it' (his own words). It was beginning to frustrate you, but your frustration could not compare to that of Seungcheol's.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm really doing it this time," he said decidedly, hearing Jeonghan's incessant attempts to interrupt whatever was going on behind your closed door.

"Babe-"

"I just want to have sex with you! It's been over a week since I've had you, I'm going insane", he pulled at his scalp.

"Yeah, I know, but he just-"

"Babe, I don't think you understand. I'm hard every day. Even seeing you gets me going by now. I can't do this anymore! Any time I try to touch you, he's there somehow!"

The manic look in his eyes spoke for itself. And it was true. Seungcheol's constant blue balling this past week and a half had him growing aroused at the mere sight of you in shorts. It was flattering, but it was beginning to affect you too. Knowing how badly he wanted you made you weak at the knees, causing the two of you to grow incredibly frustrated at your brother's antics.

You realized now that maybe you shouldn't have been so liberal in sleeping together while living with your brother. You should have known he would snap sooner or later, no matter how much he had rooted for the two of you to get together.

You wondered how this would end up playing out, because the two of you were already beyond breaking.

...

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[pierregazly]

tying you to me ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x reader

warnings: sweet max, random coincidences to lovers trope, happy ending [wc: 4.3k]

[4 times] in which something coincidentally led back to max, and the [1 time] it turned out nothing was just a coincidence (in which everything has always tied max to you).

Time, curious time  Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs  Were there clues I didn't see? 

It felt like a never-ending nightmare. 

One thing after another, one bad day after another, one bad week after the next. It felt like it was never going to end. 

The person that was supposed to be that person, the man that was supposed to be forever, the person that was going to be standing at the end of the aisle... leaving with a simple apology and a ‘I’m sorry, it’s me, not you’... it was incomprehensible.  

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t wrap your head around what had gone wrong. Was he telling the truth? Was it really him? Or was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the blunder? The inevitable demise?  

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you, it was so evident it wasn’t meant to be. Nothing connected to him, there were no signs pointing to him being the one, there was no inevitable connection. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the internal heartbreak that felt like it was never going to end. 

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling, that pulled you to another person, that proved they were the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know that it was so obvious, he just wasn’t that person. 

The coffee shop you currently sat in had become a morning staple after the last few weeks. After coming back to Monaco for a much-needed reprieve from the rest of the world, the little coffee shop nestled into the charming walls of Monte-Carlo had become a necessary distraction to the outside. 

The employees all knew you by name now, often passing by the table and inquiring about your day, inquiring about the book you were reading, or the work assignment shown on your computer screen. Always engaging in polite conversation back, it was one of your favourite places to be. 

People-watching was the only negative of it. The loving couples who passed through, all cuddled up together as they ordered their drinks for their walk throughout the city, the older couples who sat just tables away and reminisced on their lives together. It was the only thing that drove you crazy about the charming little shop.  

Watching them occupied your thoughts more time’s than you cared to admit. Daydreaming and losing focus on the outside world was a commonality, especially in the little coffee shop. 

It was exactly where you found yourself currently, your eye’s peering to the left as you watched an older man place his hand over who you assumed to be his wife’s hand. Their wedding bands shining brightly in the Monaco sun, soft smiles on their faces as they peered at one another, your heart begging to be let out of this turmoil, begging you to turn away and focus on something else, anything else. 

Its wish was granted when you felt the cold of a drink begin to sink into your shirt, instantly soaking your skin, a gasp of shock falling from your lips. 

“Oh god, I am so sorry. I just turned around and you were right there, let me grab some cloths, please.” 

You knew instantly it was your own fault, you hadn’t been paying attention, more focused on the elderly couple, prompting the person in front of you to spill their... was that Red Bull? On your shirt? 

“Is this Red Bull?”  

The man in front of you grimaced as he handed you the dry cloths, a small smile falling across his lips while his eyes crinkled with the movement of his face. A bit of a cute look, you thought to yourself while beginning to dab at your shirt as the smell of the energy drink wafted up your nose. 

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I don’t drink coffee often, but my sister wanted to stop here because she had heard good things, I was just waiting for her drink while she took a quick call outside. I really only drink Red Bull in public when I have to, or when I’m getting paid to. I thought it was her behind me when I whipped around like that, I’m so sorry. Please, can I buy you a coffee as an apology? Or a tea?” 

You weren’t entirely sure if the rambling was out of nerves that you were going to overreact over the spilt drink, or if he just simply felt like he owed it to you to explain the entire incident and how it came about in full description. 

The frustration that was brewing was not at all a fault of the cute man in front of you, but an accumulation of days of sadness, an irregular appetite, and just a combination of heartbreak. 

Trying to keep the tears of frustration at bay, you instantly shook your head towards the cute man in front of you. “Thank you, but no. Obviously this is a sign I need to go home, sorry for spilling your drink.” 

Before he could get the chance to say anything back, you were forcing yourself to rush out of the coffee shop before an outburst could erupt from inside of you. You hadn’t even noticed the look of intrigue that the Dutchman gave you. 

Bad was the blood of the song in the cab  On your first trip to LA  You ate at my favorite spot for dinner 

The memory of the handsome Dutchman in the small coffee shop left your mind not long before the happy memories of your ex-boyfriend finally forced themselves out of your head. Things had finally begun looking up, the more time you spent with your friends, the more time you spent focusing on work and the hopeful promotion that would come with it. 

Although, your boss had insisted you take a few weeks off, citing the fact you were there more than anyone she knew, and that burnout was inevitable if you didn’t take the much deserved and obligated time off. The amount of overtime and banked hours allowing you to take the time off with full pay just made it easier to agree. 

Which was exactly how you found yourself just south of Zurich, the snow whipping past your face as the ski lift ascended higher and higher up the mountain. Your friends giggled beside you, smiles lighting up everyone’s faces. 

Winter break, although cold and snowy, was always a fan favourite amongst your friend group. It was exhilarating, you hadn’t had the chance to attend the annual ski trip while you were with your ex-boyfriend, he hated skiing and anything including winter sports.  

It’s what made the trip even better, getting the chance to catch up with your friends and their partners, the chance to laugh, and drink, and just smile again. It was all worth it.  

The group of guys in the ski lift behind obviously had the same idea, hooting and hollering at each other as the ski lift continued its ascent. You couldn’t decipher what they were saying, the words in a different language, but the name ‘Max’ seemed to be a commonality. Maybe someone was missing their dog while on vacation? Who knows.  

After hours of skiing, the alcohol in the ski lodge was flowing. The laughter and happiness from every group was prevalent, everyone there was so obviously happy to get away from the real world. It’s what places like that were for. 

“That guy over there can’t stop looking at you,” jostled out of your thoughts by one of your friends, you followed her head inclination to one of the tables a few rows down, a familiar face looking back at you inquisitorially.  

It took you a second to place his face, the day in the coffee shop floating back to your mind prompting a small laugh to fall from your lips.  

“That’s the guy who spilt the Red Bull all over me when I ran into him in the coffee shop in Monaco, remember?” 

It had been a running joke, a typical meet-cute in a coffee shop, but instead of spilt coffee... a spilt Red Bull.  

“That’s the guy who spilt the Red Bull on you?” 

One of your friend’s boyfriends gaped at you, as he continuously maneuvered his look between you and the man in question. Nodding your head, he continued to gape at you. 

“Don’t you know who that is?” Giving him a look, you shook your head. 

“That’s the Max Verstappen. Three-time Formula 1 World Champion? Dutch God? Second-coming of the Formula 1 Jesus?” 

You recognized the name, having heard it at the few races you had attended, but you never would’ve been able to place the name to the face otherwise. 

A laugh erupted from one of the other members of the group, a shove directed at the other man. “I think you've got Verstappen mixed up with Lewis Hamilton.”  

“He’s kinda cute, huh?” One of the girls pointed out to you, a small giggle falling from her lips as she looked over towards the man in question, his eyes meeting yours as you looked in his direction again. 

His hair was flopped over, obviously a combination of a long day wearing a ski helmet and a hat, mixed with the combination of the sweat and heat that engulfed the inside of the lodge made him look even more attractive. Windswept, tipsy, and overall, just happy. 

“So much better than that last loser.” A mutual agreement of ‘yes’, ‘obviously’, and ‘fucking no wonder’, floated throughout your group at your friend’s words. 

Shrugging them off, you just laughed and pushed the conversation in another direction and away from the man sitting across the room, who seemed as if he couldn’t take his eyes off you at all. 

As the night started to dwindle down, you bid goodnight to the remaining group of friends and started your route back to your room. 

“At least I have nothing to spill on you tonight.” 

Directing your gaze to the voice at hand, your eyes made direct contact with the blue irises of Max Verstappen.  

Quirking an eyebrow at him as a small laugh left your lips, “I’m sure the bars fully stocked with drinks you could spill on me. You’re just not trying hard enough.” 

A loud guffaw fell from the man’s mouth, his hands instinctively covering his mouth as he laughed. You couldn’t help the heat that grew on your cheeks at his reaction, his smile directed towards you when he finally moved his hands from his face. 

“I’m so very sorry. Next time I run into you, I’ll try to make sure I have a full drink in hand to spill on you.” 

“Oh, you plan on running into me again?” 

Shrugging his shoulders with a small grin, the Dutchman just laughed. “Well, I ran into the person I spilt a Red Bull in a coffee shop on in one of my favourite places in Switzerland, I’m sure I’m bound to run into you again. Things happen in three’s, don’t they?” 

Max ran a hand through his hair as he smiled at you, before either of you could get the chance to say anything else, one of his friends was clapping a hand against his shoulder with a boisterous laugh. 

“Time to get out of here, mate. Say goodnight to the pretty girl,” he said. 

You felt your cheeks heating again, as Max smiled at you in farewell, a small wave from both of you any indication of goodbye as you both walked away. 

Time, mystical time  Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine  Were there clues I didn't see? 

F1 race weekends were as fun as they were busy. Any race you had attended since you were an intern was always focused primarily on working. Getting the opportunity to attend a race with your friends, in Melbourne, without having to worry about work or advertising, or anything else, was obviously the best way to spend it. 

Lou, one of your friends linked her arm with yours as she basically skipped through the hospitality area, pointing out the different garages as she got a glimpse of them. Her boyfriend, Nick, had gotten both of you passes through his own work, a long-term employee of McLaren meant that the both of you had been spoiled for the weekend. 

"Maybe you’ll end up running into Max again, imagine? A third little meet-cute,” she said, with a giggle.  

Rolling your eyes at her, you just laughed as she grinned back. “Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s totally possible, I’m sure Nick could totally convince Lando to convince Max to pass by the garage or the hospitality. We could totally orchestrate it.” 

“Babe, it’s pure coincidence I’ve run into the guy more than once. I’m not like... going out of my way to run into Max Verstappen.” 

Huffing back at you, Lou sent a mock pout in your direction as she continued to drag you through the hospitality center. Passing a stand full of travel cups of coffee, you were eager to grab one as you walked by. 

Before you could even press the lid of the cup to your lips, you were interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice, yet again.  

“Is it your turn to spill something on me, then? I’m having a pretty bad day, and I don’t know if I can handle that.” 

Both you and Lou whipped around to the sound of the man’s voice, the man who just a short time ago had been forced to retire his race due to a faulty and on fire brake. You could practically feel Lou humming with excitement as she looked between you and Max. 

Shoving her hand out in his direction, Lou introduced herself to Max who did the same back. 

“With that, I’m going to see how everything’s going in the garage. Call me if you get lost, yeah?” Without giving you the chance to argue, she bolted away.  

Silently groaning, you looked back towards Max. For someone who just retired from a race he was probably going to win, he seemed relatively calm and relaxed. 

“So, are you?” 

“Am I what?” You questioned back, confused. 

“Are you going to spill your coffee on me, in retaliation for the Red Bull?” Instantly shaking your head, obviously the retirement from the race couldn’t have affected him too negatively, if he was already cracking jokes in your direction. 

“You don’t even know my name, and you’re accusing me of wanting to go out of my way to kick a man when he’s already down?” 

Watching his face fall, you could tell he was about to defend his words. A smile began to cross your face, his eyes jokingly narrowing in your direction. 

Sticking your hand out towards him, you finally introduced yourself, your name falling from his lips as if it was a beautiful word from a testament as he took your hand. It would be embarrassing to say a small spark shot up your arm, but the racing driver had inevitably shocked you, an apology dropping from his lips almost immediately. 

“Terrible race to stalk me at, though. You couldn’t have at least made it a race that I actually stood a chance at winning? Pretty embarrassing to have to retire for such a stupid reason, in front of such a pretty girl.”  

If there was one thing other than racing that Max was good at, it was making your cheeks warm and the butterflies in your stomach spike.  

“Well... I am here as a guest of McLaren... maybe I was just really hoping for a Piastri win. Gotta root for the hometown boy, right?” 

Shaking his head, Max mockingly pressed his hand to his chest and looked at you like he was internally wounded. 

“You’d support McLaren over me? The man who runs into you in the weirdest of places? Who gave you a free Red Bull without a can?” he said. 

You could barely help the small snort that fell from your lips at his words, your hand instantly slapping against your lips in horror. Max openly laughed at your reaction, arm gently hitting your shoulder with a grin. 

“Just for that, I’ll support Ferrari before I support you and your Red Bull’s. I don’t think Charles Leclerc would spill a Red Bull on me.” 

In response, Max grinned and pointed in the direction of the Ferrari garage, the red and yellow prominent amongst the stone. “Shall I go introduce you to Charles, then? He’d probably spill an actual hot coffee on you, at least I didn’t leave any lasting damage.” 

“The trauma of smelling like an original Red Bull for more than 2 hours isn’t enough damage?” you questioned, your eyebrows quirking up at him. 

Max looked at you in horror, “You can’t possibly be saying you don’t think the smell of an original, cold, fresh out of a fridge, Red Bull isn’t just simply lovely. This is potentially the biggest red flag about you.” 

You were quick on your feet, the words dropping from your lips before you could contain them. 

“I guess we’re all on fire today, then. Red flags left and right.” you said with a smirk. 

All Max did was laugh at your words, his head rolling back while his hands placed themselves on his hips.  

Just as he had been the last two times, Max was interrupted before he could continue the conversation, a lady in a Red Bull sweater tapping him on the shoulder to let him know he needed to make his way back to the garage for some interviews that had been requested of him.  

“Nice seeing you again, I’m sure next time I see you, you’ll probably heal more of my Red Bull soaked shirt trauma.”  

The only response he gave was a loud laugh and a wave, as he walked away. 

Time, wondrous time  Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies 

The FIA year-end Gala was exquisite. Everyone was dressed to the nines, the lights were twinking, the service was lovely, and the atmopshere was electric. 

Even though, for almost all of the people there, it was a requirement of their jobs, everyone seemed as if they were having a wonderful time. Mingling with those around them, actively engaging in conversation with co-workers, friends, long-time acquaintances.  

Your boss had elected that you and a fellow co-worker attend in her place, admitting that although she loved the excitement of the night, she needed a break from the glitz and the glam of Formula 1 for a tiny bit. She knew you were more than willing to take her place and do an incredible job.  

Which is exactly how you found yourself at a table with Jack, one of your co-workers, a wide grin on his face as he observed everything going on around him. He was new to the company, just having recently completed his internship and been offered a full-time position with the organization. It was his first time at a Formula 1 event of any kind. 

“Isn’t this brilliant? I’m a huge motorsports fan, I wanted to get into karting when I was a kid but it was just too expensive, my parents couldn’t afford that. I’ve never even had the opportunity to go to a race, and now I’m in the same building, the same room as literal race drivers. Have you been to a race before?” 

You forgot how much he could yap, an almost over-eager human equivalent of an excited golden retriever. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer to his question. 

“I’ve been to a few races for work, and a few privately with some friends. They’re always a great time, you’ll have lots of fun when you start going for work.” you said. 

Grinning at your words, you began to tune him out as he launched into another rant. You were pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of someone saying your name, your head swiveling in the direction of the voice. 

You were almost positive Jack was squealing out loud, as Max Verstappen once again entered your view. Smiling up at him, you stood up to greet the Dutchman, which resulted in him pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, his hand gently patting you on the back as he did so. 

“I just wanted to come by and say hello. You look very beautiful.”  

Unable to contain the anxious laugh that fell from your lips, you immediately smiled at him. Accepting compliments was obviously not your forte, especially when they were coming from Max, who looked more handsome than ever in his suit, and the wide smile on his cheeks pulling everything together. 

“Never thought I’d see you in anything other than jeans and a Red Bull shirt, Max. You look lovely, as well.” 

“Making fun of me, and a compliment all in one? I will say, I probably would’ve worn jeans if I could, but my public relations manager likely would’ve murdered me and I quite enjoy being alive,” he said. 

Shaking your head in silent laughter, you barely even noticed as Jack thrust his hand out to introduce himself to Max.  

“Your girlfriend is lovely, mate. This is what, the fourth time I’ve run into you?” Max said in greeting, a somewhat tight smile on his face. 

Jack instantly shook his head, “Oh god no, we’re co-workers. I don’t mean she’s not lovely, she is. I’m not her type, or actually she’s not my type. I’m yapping, this is embarrassing. Mr. Verstappen, it was really nice to meet you. I need a drink. I’m sorry.” 

He practically sprinted away, both you and Max looked on with amused grins present on your faces. 

“So, if he’s not your boyfriend, does that mean one of the guys you were with in Switzerland are?” 

Shaking your head, “God, no. Those are friends I’ve known for years. I’m very much single, right now.” 

Max looked like he was in complete contemplation as he debated what to say next. You were secretly hoping he would take the bait, maybe ask if you were free after the gala, or ask how long you were going to be in town for. 

Running into him again once was by chance, twice was a coincidence, and thrice was obviously a sign. The universe was obviously trying to tell you something, there was a reason this man, who had first shown up in your life just after one of the worst heartbreaks you had ever experienced, continued to show up. It was hard to not get your hopes up, to not get ahead of yourself. 

It was hard to keep the butterflies at bay, truthfully.  

“Hypothetically, does that mean you’re free after the gala?” 

“Hypothetically... I man be free after the gala,” you responded. 

Nodding his head, Max smiled in your direction. “I think it would be a crime to let this beautiful dress, and my efforts to wear a suit for something go to waste. I’d love to take you out after.” 

And isn't it just so pretty to think  All along there was some  Invisible string  Tying you to me? 

Max had been transparent from the beginning; he wasn’t overly affection nor was he a fan of excessive cuddling. He got warm often, and the moment he got too warm when he was in bed, he got miserable. But when he wanted to cuddle? You had to take what he would give you.  

Which was exactly how you found yourselves right now, Max playfully attempting to whack your phone out of your hand, his other arm wrapped around your waist as he burrowed his head into your neck. 

“Schatje, I just wanna cuddle for a bit. Give me a little attention.” 

Slapping gently at his arm, you looked at him in mock exasperation. All you ever did was give him attention, he almost took the words out of your mouth when he muttered, “I know you give me plenty of attention, don’t yell at me.” 

You just shook your head silently as you used your free hand to gently twirl small tuffs of his hair, a small hum of content falling from his lips at your movements. 

“What are you looking at?”  

Attempting to look over at your phone, you moved the screen so he could see it better. It was a video from your first ever Formula 1 race, back when you were still a little intern and your boss had wanted you to gain some exposure to the sport. 

“I’m just looking back at some videos. Found this one from my first ever race. I didn’t even know I still had this.” 

Max instantly perked up and looked at your phone, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher something in the video. 

“Do you remember which race it was? Looks like it’s a few years old, yeah?”  

Nodding your head, you tried to do the math in your head, thinking back to what year you first started your internship. “I think it was 2016? It was definitely in Spain, but I’m pretty positive it was 2016.” 

“Do you know what that means?” Max questioned, a soft smile on his lips as he pressed a small kiss to the junction between your chin and throat before looking back up at you. 

Shaking your head in confusion, you tried to determine what he could be talking about, giving him the chance to continue.  

“My first ever win in Formula 1, for Red Bull, was the 2016 Spanish Grand Prix. Isn’t that so ironic? Guess things were always meant to be.” 

Maybe he was right. 

Maybe there was always a string, a small, invisible string, tying everything together, tying you to him.  

genuinely i got this into my mind and felt like i was legally obligated to write it asap. i hope you LOVE it and i would so appreciate it if you told me if you do. thank you, love you all 🫶🏻

[majikkulu]

♱ 𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘 by majikkulu ;P ♱

━━ ❝ masterlist ❞

these are my personal observations and may not resonate with everyone. please take them with a grain of salt, as i'm not a professional astrologer! :))

♱ gemini risings with lilith in the first house or conjunct their asc often appear younger than their age, which can lead to past discrimination or exclusion. their youthful look might make it hard for them to be taken seriously or voice opinions, and they might have been teased for their appearance. as they age, they may receive comments about their agelessness and notice that people are hesitant to engage with them in conversations. they might also be seen as intimidating, standoffish, or even shy, and could be perceived as having a serious, sad or "resting bitch face."

♱ your saturn's sign, house, and degree can indicate people who impact you and teach important life lessons. these individuals often stay in your life long-term, offering both support and challenges. for example, my saturn is in cancer in the 2nd house at a virgo degree. many of my close friends and family have cancer, virgo, or taurus placements, and each has taught me something valuable. even though some cancers have betrayed me, those experiences were to shape me fr. take my bestie, who has saturn in cancer in the 11th house at a pisces degree. i’m a pisces with a strong 11th house stellium. i’ve noticed similar vibes with my favorite artists too.

♱ people with venus sextile saturn deeply value being appreciated and seen by others. they often seek long-term, serious relationships and handle challenges with maturity. they give their all and show great respect to their partners, often attracting or being drawn to older partners. those who meet them usually find them unforgettable.

♱ people with venus trine pluto crave intense, passionate love. their deep feelings are often transformative, with even short-term relationships leading to significant personal growth. they have a magnetic presence that's both striking and sometimes intimidating, and they connect on a profound, soul-deep level, drawing others in with their powerful emotional intensity and mysterious looks.

♱ people with jupiter in the 5th house are incredibly charming and approachable, drawing many people to them. they often connect easily with children and might have a natural talent for engaging with them. these individuals likely experience numerous crushes and pursue a wide range of hobbies with enthusiasm. they also have a talent for creative pursuits like music, art, or dancing.not to mention, their love life is often quite fulfilling.

♱ people with sun square ascendant may struggle with self-confidence and self-presentation early in life. however, as they grow older, they often develop a stronger sense of self and learn to embrace their unique qualities. over time, they become more confident and self-assured, appreciating who they are and how they express themselves.

♱ mars in taurus can take a long time to get genuinely upset. they tend to be slow to anger but can become easily frustrated. their anger is usually kept under control, but when it finally erupts, it can be intense and difficult to manage.

♱ chiron in the 9th house may struggle with faith and frequently question their beliefs. they might face challenges in school, but these often improve with age. some may have been pressured into church as children, contributing to their journey of exploration and self-discovery. as kids, they might have followed others' expectations instead of pursuing their own interests, leading to a continual quest for personal understanding and truth.

♱ virgo risings have great muscles and well-defined bodies.

♱ i've noticed that natives with a 4th house stellium often come from big families or have many siblings. they typically have a strong connection with their family, frequently staying in touch and valuing their relationships. their family can have a significant influence on them, playing a central role in their lives and shaping their sense of identity.

♱ i’ve noticed that individuals with pluto in the 10th house often receive mixed reactions from the public. they tend to be both admired and disliked, with their reputation evoking strong, polarized feelings. even if they’re not actually a “player,” their public persona might give off that vibe

♱ a lot of sagittarius moons, moon-jupiter aspects or moon in sag degrees are incredibly playful and flirty. they thrive on socializing and enjoy being the center of attention. their vibrant energy and enthusiasm often make them the life of the party, drawing people in with their lively and engaging personality.

♱ what i've noticed is that natives with cancer rising or the moon in the 1st house often attract a lot of popularity and are well-liked by many. they typically have an easy time connecting with others and are true social butterflies. females with these placements, in particular, often attract a lot of attention from men, thanks to their bubbly, fun personalities and their attractive, approachable appearance. on a negative note, i’ve observed that some people with these placements can also display deceitful, lying, or manipulative behaviors. (pls don’t come for me!)

[rhaenyra-storms]

Aegon x healer!reader where reader is affectionate yet professional? She's taking care of him like a child and Aegon, being a meow meow with mommy issues has fallen hard.

oh, we all know aegon has deep mommy issues, so this is definitely something i can imagine happening heheh

pairing: aegon targaryen x f!reader warnings: aegon is falling hard AND FAST, mommy issues, description of an open wound, blood, he just wants to be cared for, aegon could be a warning (but he's soft in this), alcohol addiction words: 1.5k

masterlist

Aegon didn't want to fall in love with you. It was really more of an accident in his eyes. Growing up with his mother's influence and going through a phase of defying her and then obeying her, he could maybe trace his interest in you back to that.

He always wanted to impress his mother like Aemond did. He wasn't as gentle as Helaena or as strong as Aemond.

Maybe he just wanted someone to care for him and just him. His mother had always been bouncing between the realm, his father and his siblings. All those expectations set upon him from a young age had made him turn to alcohol and it was the only thing strong enough to numb his thoughts in a sufficient way.

Until you came along.

You were meant to check in on him, making sure the king was healthy and well. Most of his servants didn't really engage in friendly conversation with him, so he didn't expect you to be any different.

It was a rainy day when you had come in to check out a bruise on his skin that didn't seem to disappear for weeks. It wasn't anything serious, based on your knowledge, but you took your time that day and it was just you and the King in the room. Aegon had been in a rather bad mood the entire time you had been here, but the silence was uncomfortable as only the storm could be heard raging outside.

"Did you plan on going outside today, your grace?” You asked him as you stirred the ointment you had prepared a few minutes ago.

Aegon never liked to talk and he loved to avert his gaze from you all the time.

On the few occasions you had met his brother, Prince Aemond, you could tell that this was a key difference between them. You often felt like the younger prince's eye never left you, burning holes into your back even when you didn't look at him.

Your presence seemed to annoy him. So you didn't really expect him to answer at all, but at least you would have tried to make a bit of friendly conversation.

"Not really. We're having a council meeting later on."

Aegon's voice was more quiet than usual, his gaze distant as he watched the rain pour in buckets outside.

You tried to hide the surprise you were feeling. This was the most words Aegon had ever spoken to you, but you didn't want to ruin the moment by telling him that. "I hope it goes well, your grace," you replied instead, moving closer to the King.

"Would you mind showing me the bruise again?"

Aegon complied without another word, stretching out his arm and pulling his sleeve up.

He noticed how gentle you were when you applied the ointment to his skin and for a short moment, he even took a closer look at you. The King had met a few healers throughout his life, but none of them had been as pretty as you were.

She is not yours to desire.

His mother's voice echoed in his head. When he was younger, Aegon took whatever he wanted, but he felt too exhausted for that now. While the wine was able to drown out his worries, he always felt like catastrophe was right around the corner. They were heading towards a war and in the private confines of his chambers, he didn't have the energy to act confident anymore.

He didn't even thank you when you were done with your work. You were just dismissed, as usual, but you couldn't help feeling a little satisfied that you had coaxed a few words out of the King at least.

Most of your meetings with the King followed the same pattern. However, he did let a few more words slip each time.

Once, you even managed to make him laugh with a simple joke of yours.

You had heard Aegon laugh before. It was always a loud and menacing one, but that one time you had joked with him, his laugh was gentle and almost too quiet to be heard.

It had been two weeks since your last visit to the King and there wasn't any scheduled meeting ahead of you. You had done your routine checks the last time you had seen him and unless he hurt himself badly, you wouldn't be called upon.

The sun had already disappeared behind the trees of the King's Wood as you prepared to call it a day for now. You were on your way back to the castle gates, having finished a visit to the King's brother, when a Knight of the Kingsguard caught up with you in the hallway.

"I am sorry to disturb you, m'lady, but the King has hurt himself and needs your assistance."

There wasn't any room for you to argue here. You were tired and wanted to go home for the day, but if the King was in need of your help, you weren't in a position to deny it. You didn't even find yourself wanting to. What had Aegon gotten into this time?

His guard didn't follow you inside the room. Instead, he closed the heavy doors behind you and for a moment, you couldn't even spot Aegon in the room.

However, you could hear quiet groans from behind the blinds opposite of you. "Your grace?"

Aegon tumbled towards you eventually, clutching his left hand with his right one. "I need your help."

His pale skin was stained with blood. The red liquid dropped onto the floor and your breath caught in your throat. You placed your pack of supplies down, grabbing the first towel you could find in it and rushed over to him.

Aegon's face had turned red, his eyes fixated on you as you gently manoeuvred him over to a chair, wrapping the towel around his injured hand.

"What happened, your grace?" You asked, pressing the fabric against the wounds.

"I cut myself." His right hand wasn't injured, but it was covered in blood. He pointed to the other side of the room where glass shards were scattered over the floor and more bloodstains could be seen around them.

"I need to clean the wound first. Stay here," you mumbled quickly and rushed over to retrieve a clean wipe before soaking it with alcohol. You didn't want to risk the king getting an infection and you definitely had to talk to the maester to keep a close eye on him from now on. If he was showing the slightest signs of a fever, you should be called immediately.

Aegon's head hurt, but it didn't stop him from staring at you. The worried expression in your eyes... he was rarely able to see it aimed at him. Everyone always looked at him greedily or with hatred glowing in their eyes. He wasn't loveable and everyone around him made sure to tell him that.

But when you cleaned and bandaged his wounds, talking softly to him while doing so, and looking like you cared, he for once felt like someone could genuinely like him. It didn't have to be love, of course, but he felt like he was experiencing it in some way.

You were smart and beautiful and you cared enough for Aegon to let his guard down. Enjoy your beautiful eyes and bathe in the feeling of genuinely being cared for.

It was happening fast. Too fast.

But all he had ever known were the cold stares from his mother, his brother and especially his wife and sister.

"You need to be more careful, A-"

Your breath caught in your throat. "I am sorry, your grace, I-"

Aegon lifted his healthy hand for a moment. "Don't worry about it. I prefer Aegon anyway."

Had he ever allowed a servant to call him by his name? No. Did it feel right to have you do it when you always gave him those sweet smiles? Definitely. "It's just Aegon," he clarified.

Your eyes visibly widened at the correction. It was surprising that the King would allow you to call him by his first name, but you wouldn't complain. He looked more content after he offered it to you and that expression looked good on him.

"Of course. Just Aegon," you smiled, closing the bandage around his hand once and for all. You then filled a cup with water, handing it to the King and your patient. "Drink. It would be best for you to rest and not put too much pressure on your left hand."

While Aegon always loved to defy whatever someone told him to do, he was happy to oblige this time. He took the cup from you and downed it in one go, placing it back down on the table afterwards.

"Thank you. For..."

When had he ever genuinely thanked someone in the last few years?

"For helping me."

You let out a small laugh, looking at the man in front of you. "There is no need to thank me, Aegon. It's my profession after all. Helping you and looking after you."

Your voice was so sweet and soft, it sounded like music to Aegon's ears. He wanted to hear it play more often from now on.

He couldn't keep cutting himself on purpose to make you care for him, but he could invite you to more joyful meetings.

Because it felt good to actually be cared for. Especially by someone as beautiful as you.

[darlingdekarios]

the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

[murdrdocs]

mike ,,,, thoughts ,,,,…,…,.,… hes kinda shy and it often comes off to others like he’s being cold or uncaring but you know he just gets nervous to say or do the wrong things so he prefers to be a quiet person

anyway rubbing him through his pants …. you’re watching a movie together and you just slip your hand between his thighs and slooowly rub up and down his length and he’s glancing down and glancing back at you because he’s too respectful to say anything about it and too shy to take it further and he’s trying to subtly cross his legs and hide the fact he’s so hard and biting his lip to choke back his whimpers and—

oh this made me dizzy when i first saw it 😵‍💫 SMUT 17+

in the time that you’ve been dating, you’d constantly encouraged him to speak up, forcing him to give a ‘controversial’ opinion on a food item just for the sake of it. he’d always seemed a little uncomfortable during the moment, but nights later he’d purpose something, inciting an impressed smile on your face while you engaged in conversation.

with mike, though, actions always spoke louder than words. he’s not the best verbal communicator, choosing to speak with his body instead. he would do something miles before he would say it.

hence why you know his squirming beside you is less the cause of discomfort and more so because he wants you to do something. he’s crossing his legs only to uncross them a few moments later. he’s scooting further away, then closer, and then ending up in the position he’d started in. he’s clearing his throat and coughing and sending not so subtle glances your way.

and truthfully you’re putting him out of his misery whenever you slide your hand over his thigh, palm grazing the textured fabric of his deep blue jeans.

the movie is reaching its end on the boxed screen a few feet in front of you, but you’d seen it so often that you can tell the scene just from the noises alone. mike, on the other hand, still seems to be a bit interested. that or his shy demeanor is preventing him from looking at you fully.

either way, you know what he wants, further confirmation coming in the form of mike bucking up into your hand whenever you spread your palm flat over his tented crotch. he sighs audibly whenever you curl your hand into half of a fist, groping him through the double layers.

you glance from your hand to him, sending a tiny smile whenever you catch his eye. you abandon the starts of your work only to unbutton and unzip his jeans, scratching at his happy trail when you use one hand to pull the elastic of his boxers down, and the other to free his cock from the restraints.

you receive assistance, too, mike pushing his boxers and jeans down to his mid thigh. then, he sits back and bites his lower lip as he watches you take him from the base in your fist.

it’s rough, too much friction and no lubricant.

yet mike still throws his head back and you swear you hear a little “thank you” slip past his bitten lips.

either way, you take your hand away only to lewdly spit in it, bring it back to his erect and leaking cock, and smile at him sweetly as you say, “you’re welcome, mikey”.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Real Love

Summary: You and Carlos were just supposed to be a PR couple for less than a year but someone decided to catch feelings.

Song: Love Story - Indila

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 8.6k

It all started as a simple PR arrangement between you, a well-known influencer, and Carlos Sainz, the Formula 1 driver. We were both told it would only last less than a year - just long enough to boost our public profiles and create some buzz. Little did we know, someone had other plans.

At first, it was easy enough. We attended events together, posted cute couple photos on social media, and played the part of the perfect pair. The chemistry between us felt natural, which made the whole charade convincing.

Your routine was simple enough.

You and Carlos would meet up at his house and he would drive you both to the paddock while sharing a small conversation about what happened in your jobs in the last weeks.

The roar of the engines and the excited chatter of the fans would fill the air around you.

As you reach the Ferrari garage, Carlos turns to you. "I've got some meetings with Charles to attend to, but you're free to explore or chat with the other drivers' partners if you'd like. I'll catch up with you in a bit, okay?"

You nod, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Sounds good. I'll be around if you need me." With a smile, you part ways, ready to take in the bustling atmosphere of the Ferrari garage.

Because of your ‘relationship’, you were able to make friends with your current bestie, Lily Muni.

You and your close friend Lily would often engage in candid discussions about your romantic entanglements, particularly your faux relationship with Carlos. Despite being the sole confidante privy to the fact that your connection with Carlos was entirely fabricated, Lily wholeheartedly embraced the role of your number one supporter and "shipper."

She would enthusiastically encourage you, even though she was fully aware that your purported love affair was merely a façade maintained for the benefit of others.

"So what's going on with you these days?" Lily asked curiously since you hadn't seen her in a few weeks. You knew that she wanted to know more about your relationship but it was still the same.

"Lily, I don't know what you're waiting for," You replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "We're going to be like this until the contract ends."

Lily looked at you with a knowing look, smiling at your denial, "Not until one of you decides to confess, I bet it's gonna be Carlos. I see where his eyes go when you're not looking."

You can feel your cheeks heat up at Lily's teasing words, and you quickly avert your gaze, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Blushing, you try to hide your embarrassment by taking another sip of your coffee, hoping to distract yourself.

Deep down, you couldn't deny the flutter of hope that Lily's words sparked within you, secretly wishing that her prediction would come true and Carlos would finally reveal his true feelings.

"Come on, Lily, you know it's all just for show," you say with a nervous laugh, hoping to dismiss any romantic notions. Deep down, however, you can't help but wonder if there might be some truth to her playful observations.

Lily chuckles mischievously, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I know, I know. But you can't blame me for hoping, can you? Sometimes, even the most make-believe romances have a way of turning real."

You nodded before thinking of her words, realizing that there were indeed moments when Carlos's gaze lingered a little longer, or when his touches felt a little more intentional. Maybe, just maybe, Lily's playful observations held more truth than you were willing to admit.

As you sat there with your coffee, a newfound sense of curiosity and anticipation began to take root within you, wondering if this faux relationship could possibly evolve into something genuine and heartfelt.

You would be lying if you said that you didn't have a crush on Carlos. His charm and the way he made you feel special were undeniable. It wasn't just the little moments or his playful gestures, it was the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he was near.

Every time he looked into your eyes, it felt like there was something more behind his gaze. And now, with Lily's playful observations, the possibility of those feelings being reciprocated started to flicker in your mind, making your heart race with anticipation.

But you knew that breaking the rules of the PR contract because of your feelings was not an option. You couldn't risk jeopardizing the professional relationship and the project you had been working on together.

Besides, you reminded yourself, sometimes it's better to keep a crush as a secret, unrequited admiration rather than risking the potential fallout that could come from crossing that line.

So, you decided to bury those feelings deep down, focusing on the task at hand and maintaining a professional demeanor, even if your heart still fluttered every time Carlos entered the room.

It was a bittersweet realization, but one that you knew was necessary for the sake of your career and the project's success.

After catching up with Lily, you had to head back to the Ferrari garage to see Carlos one more time before he goes to the first sprint of the race, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to put on your best poker face, to hide the feelings that threatened to spill over.

This would be the last time you allowed yourself to indulge in this fantasy, the last time you let your heart flutter at the sight of him. From now on, it would be all business, all focus, and no room for what-ifs and maybes.

As you entered, you found Carlos focused on preparing for the race, his eyes fixed on the car before him. You couldn't help but admire his dedication and skill, a reminder of why you were drawn to him in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, ready to wish him luck and carry on with your professional duties.

But as you stood there, your eyes locked with his, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more beneath the surface, something that Lily's playful observations had hinted at.

As he smiled at you and gestured for you to come over, a glimmer of hope ignited within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between you two, despite the professional boundaries. But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the risks involved and the importance of staying focused on the task at hand.

With a smile, you returned his gesture and walked over, ready to offer your well wishes for the race.

As soon as you got close enough, his hand sneaked across your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced as he pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

The world seemed to stand still for a moment as the warmth of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss enveloped you. It was a moment of pure bliss, a confirmation that there was indeed something more between you two.

But as quickly as it happened, reality came crashing back.

You pulled away, your heart pounding with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

That was normal for you two. It doesn't mean anything.

"Good luck with your race," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you glanced from his lips to his eyes and saw that he did the same thing, a spark of connection flickered between you, leaving you wondering if there was more to this moment than either of you were willing to admit.

“Mi amor, I will definitely win with you being my good luck charm,” He said, smirking at the affect his words still had on you.

Reluctantly, you watched as Carlos tore his gaze away from you and focused on the final preparations of his car. With a heavy heart, you knew that this fleeting moment of connection would have to be set aside for now.

He had a race to win, and you had your own professional duties to attend to. As he climbed into the driver's seat and drove off to the starting line, you could only hope that the universe would bring you together again, when the time was right. . . .

Carlos ended up being first in practice 1, which was very surprising for everyone. His skill and determination were evident as he flawlessly maneuvered the twists and turns of the track, leaving his competitors in the dust.

The cheers and applause from the crowd filled the air, but amidst the excitement, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for Carlos. . . .

╔═ * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * ═╗

╚═ * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * ═╝

As you sat on Carlos's bed, waiting for him to finish dressing up. You couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Carlos and you had to go to an event together so you were now sitting on his bed, all dolled up.

The dress you were given to wear to the event was a stunning crimson masterpiece. Its vibrant hue perfectly represented the fiery spirit of Ferrari, mirroring Carlos's passion and determination on the racetrack.

The fabric gracefully hugged your curves, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The bodice was beautifully adorned with intricate lace detailing, adding a touch of elegance to the ensemble. The dress flowed effortlessly down to the floor, creating a mesmerizing silhouette as you walked.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a sense of empowerment and confidence.

You glanced at the clock, realizing that time was running out. You hoped that Carlos would hurry and join you soon.

As you read the Twitter comments questioning the authenticity of your relationship with Carlos, a wave of insecurity washed over you.

Despite knowing the truth of your connection, the doubts planted by strangers made you question your ability to convince fans of your 'love' for each other.

It was disheartening to realize that no matter how real your feelings were, they could still be perceived as fake by those who only saw glimpses of your lives through social media.

"Carlos?" you knocked on the bathroom door, wanting to know what he was still doing as they needed to go.

As you waited for a response, you couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling the same pressure and scrutiny from fans as you were, and if it was affecting his confidence as well.

"Yes cariño, you can come in," you heard his voice and you decided to open the door.

As you entered the bathroom, the sight of Carlos's bare back took your breath away. His muscles rippled under his smooth skin, and the towel that hung loosely around his waist only added to the allure.

His toned muscles glistened with droplets of water, and you couldn't help but appreciate the physical strength and athleticism that made him a champion on the racetrack.

You tried to maintain composure, but it was impossible to tear your eyes away from him. You were suddenly aware of the growing heat in the room, a reflection of the intense chemistry that existed between the two of you.

He turned to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased, causing your heart to race even faster.

You quickly averted your gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Sorry," you stammered, turning around to give him privacy. "I didn't realize you weren't dressed yet."

"It's okay cariño, since you're here, do you mind rubbing my back? It's hard to reach sometimes," He asked, gesturing to the bottle close to you on the shelf but still not turning around and applying some lotion onto his face.

"Sure Carlos," you replied.

You took a small amount of lotion in your hands and began to gently rub it onto Carlos's bare back, your fingers gliding smoothly over his muscles.

As you worked your way from his shoulders down to his lower back, you couldn't help but admire the strength and resilience they represented.

The physical contact eased the tension that had been building up in his back, making him stop what he was doing and sigh in relief.

"Am I that good?" you teased.

Chuckling, Carlos' eyes were still closed in bliss. "Well, cariño, you have magic hands. I've never felt so relaxed. Maybe I should consider hiring you as my personal masseur," he muttered.

Giggling softly, you replied, "Well, it seems like I have a hidden talent then. I can give you a massage after your races if you'd like."

"Yes please cariño," He pleaded.

You were taken aback by the intensity of his plea, and the way his voice resonated in your ears sent a shiver down your spine. Your cheeks flushed even deeper as you realized the effect you had on him, and a mix of excitement and nervousness washed over you.

"Y/N? Why did you stop?" Carlos asked, finally turning around to face you, his eyes locked with yours.

The electricity in the room seemed to intensify as you found yourself lost in his gaze, unable to find the words to explain the sudden halt in your actions.

"Carlos, we have an important event to go to. We can't waste time here," you reminded him and yourself. You just remembered the event that left your mind as soon as you stepped inside the bathroom.

Carlos pouted at your words, his disappointment evident. He knew that the event was important, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at leaving behind the intimate moment the two of you were sharing.

"We can't just spend a few minutes?" Carlos asked, trying his luck.

"Carlos, this event is about Ferrari," You started, going over to wash your hands. "You have to be there and be there early."

Carlos pouted at your words, remembering the event too. "I guess you're right," he said with a hint of disappointment. "But don't worry, I'll hold you to that promise of a massage later."

"You'll get them soon enough," You replied smiling, walking out of the bathroom, leaving Carlos to change into his suit. . . .

You two had made it to the event half an hour before it was going to start, and as you got out of Carlos' car, you were bombarded with the paparazzi.

Flashbulbs went off incessantly as reporters shouted questions and cameramen jostled for the best angle.

Carlos, being used to this, instinctively shielded you from the chaos, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you towards the entrance, where security personnel were waiting to escort you inside.

As soon as you two had gotten into the building, you were able to breathe, soaking in the momentary calmness before the storm of socializing began.

You glanced at Carlos, his hand still lingering on your waist, and you exchanged a knowing smile, silently reassuring each other that you were in this together.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to gracefully navigate the room, greeting and mingling with the various groups of people in attendance.

Taking a moment to compose yourselves, you scanned the room and spotted familiar faces from various racing teams and sponsors.

Making your way over to each group, you exchanged warm greetings and engaged in small talk, ensuring that you maintained the necessary professional connections in the racing world for Carlos.

"Carlos! Y/N!" a voice called you from in the crowd, and you both turned around to see Benedetto Vigna, the CEO of Ferrari, making his way towards you with a warm smile.

It was a relief to see a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers, and you greeted him with enthusiasm, ready to discuss the future of the partnership between Carlos and Ferrari.

"It's so wonderful to see you both here tonight," he exclaimed, extending his hand in greeting.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Carlos replied, giving him a quick hug with a smile.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Wasn't he the one who wanted to stay at home longer for a massage?

As you and Carlos were about to join Benedetto Vigna for a group picture with Charles and his girlfriend Alexandra, you couldn't help but notice Carlos shooting you a mischievous grin.

"Looks like someone changed their mind about staying at home for massages," you whispered playfully, causing Carlos to chuckle as the camera flashed, capturing the moment of camaraderie between the four of you.

You couldn't help but blush as Carlos leaned in closer, his grip on your waist tightening. "I'm still getting that massage, aren't I?" he whispered playfully into your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You chuckled softly at Carlos's words, feeling a surge of warmth as his grip tightened around your waist. "Of course," you whispered back, leaning into his embrace.

After the group photo, the two of you were approached by the paparazzi, who insisted on taking pictures of just the two of you.

You obliged, striking a pose with Carlos, your smiles radiating with genuine joy and affection. As the camera clicked, freezing the moment in time, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the incredible journey you and Carlos had embarked on together.

Suddenly, you remembered the comments on your relationship being fake crossed your mind. In an impulsive move, you turned to Carlos and whispered, "KIss me."

With that, you leaned in and planted a passionate kiss on his lips, not caring about the prying eyes of the paparazzi.

Carlos, caught off guard by your sudden boldness, responded by deepening the kiss, his lips pressing fervently against yours.

The paparazzi went wild, capturing the genuine love and connection between the two of you, proving once and for all that your relationship was far from fake.

When you were able to separate from each other, you grinned at the paparazzi, reveling in the moment of rebellion and spontaneity. Ignoring the bewildered looks from the crowd, you confidently took Carlos's hand and led him off the stage, eager to escape the prying eyes and enjoy the rest of the night in each other's company.

The paparazzi's cameras continued to flash behind you, capturing the image of two people deeply in love, unafraid to defy expectations and embrace their own happiness.

And that's what you were hoping for.

You two spent the rest of the event, stuck to each other like glue, while effortlessly navigating conversations with important people.

As you mingled and exchanged pleasantries, it became evident to everyone around that your connection was genuine, sincere, and unbreakable. People couldn't help but be drawn to the magnetic energy between you, as you effortlessly charmed and captivated those in your presence.

Carlos made sure to take extra care of you on the drive home, keeping a watchful eye as he navigated the streets.

He gently helped you out of the car when you arrived at your doorstep, ensuring you were safely inside before bidding you goodnight and heading back to his own place.

As you lay in bed, still buzzing with the excitement of the night, you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to have someone like Carlos by your side, always looking out for you and making sure you were taken care of.

If only it was all real and genuine. . . .

You woke up with a pounding headache and a foggy memory of the previous night's events. As you tried to piece together what had happened, you received a call from Carlos.

"Hello?" you muttered into the phone sleepily.

"Oh Y/N, were you asleep? I didn't mean to wake up," Carlos' voice came through your phone and you immediately woke up fully.

When you turned on your TV, the camera panned over to Carlos on the phone, and you were surprised to see him there already.

"Carlos! Why are you there already? You should have called me earlier or something?" you groaned at both your headache and the fact that you would have to go to the paddock by yourself instead of with Carlos.

"Cariño, I already told everyone that you were sick but that you were recovering quickly and everyone wished you well." Carlos stated, making you freeze in the middle of trying to get out of bed.

"You what?"

"You don't have to come Cariño, unless you really want to," Carlos really assured you and you could see his worried face on TV.

"Thank you, you saved me big time," you replied, sliding back into your bed with a relieving sigh.

"You're welcome Cariño,"

During the call, you and Carlos briefly chatted before the race was about to begin.

"Put it on video call for a second," Carlos asked quickly and you did it without hesitation, hoping he wouldn't mind your bed hair.

Carlos gave you an air kiss, and you returned one back, a substitute for the good luck kiss you would always give him before switching off the phone.

You couldn't help but smile at the gesture, knowing that Carlos was trying to be considerate in your absence.

"Okay goodbye Cariño, I'll win the race for you."

"Good luck Carlos."

With your spirits lifted, you sat down to watch the race. You watched attentively as Carlos gave it his all, pushing himself to the limits. To your surprise, he managed to secure second place.

As soon as he was able to, he called you. His voice was filled with a mix of joy and frustration.

"Congratulations, Carlos! Second place is still amazing!" you exclaimed with genuine excitement.

However, Carlos's disappointment was evident as he sighed heavily and said, "I know, but I really wanted that first place. I'll keep pushing harder for the next race."

"You did incredible, Carlos! I'm so proud of you," you reassured him. "Second place is a huge achievement, and it shows how much progress you've made. Don't be too hard on yourself. There will always be another race to aim for that first place."

Carlos let out a small chuckle, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "Thank you, Cariño. Your support means everything to me. I won't rest until I reach that top spot."

"Well you can rest at my place with your personal massager waiting for you."

"I can't wait Cariño, I'll see you in the evening," He said happily. A smile could be heard from in his voice and you grinned at that.

You didn't know why you decided to invite Carlos over but now the deed was already done.

As you headed into the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You knew how much Carlos loved your homemade tortillas and croquetas, and you wanted to make this evening extra special for him.

The sound of sizzling oil and the aroma of frying potatoes filled the air as you prepared the ingredients, imagining the look of delight on Carlos's face when he tasted the delicious meal you had prepared for him.

You quickly made your way to the bedroom to pick out an outfit that would make you look presentable for Carlos's arrival. After some consideration, you settled on a stylish yet comfortable ensemble—a fitted black blouse paired with high-waisted jeans and a pair of sleek black ankle boots.

To add a touch of elegance, you adorned your neck with a delicate silver necklace and slipped on a matching bracelet.

With your hair neatly styled and a hint of makeup to enhance your natural beauty, you felt confident and ready to welcome Carlos into your home.

Later in the day, there was a knock on your door. When you opened it, there was Carlos, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Wow, Cariño, you look absolutely stunning," Carlos said, his eyes widening in admiration.

You blushed, not realizing the effect you had on him. "Thank you, Carlos. That's really sweet of you to say," you replied, genuinely touched by his compliment.

"Wow, these flowers are beautiful, Carlos! Thank you so much," you said, genuinely touched by the gesture.

Carlos smiled warmly, his eyes filled with admiration. "You deserve nothing less," he replied softly.

As you led him inside, you were completely unaware of the way Carlos' gaze lingered on you, captivated by your every move. Little did you know, his fascination with you had only grown stronger over time, and he couldn't help but hope that one day you would see him in the same light.

As you entered the dining room, Carlos's eyes widened with excitement as he saw the table set with all his favorite dishes. The aroma of homemade tortillas and croquetas filled the room, making his mouth water.

The warm glow of the candles and the delicious aroma that filled the air made his heart skip a beat. "Oh wow, you've really outdone yourself," he exclaimed, his face lighting up even more. "I can't believe you remembered all my favorites. This is incredible."

"I had to do something for my favourite driver," you teased, having Carlos pull away the chair for you so you could sit down.

"I must admit, being your favorite driver has its perks," Carlos replied with a playful wink, as he took his seat across from you. "But tonight, I'm here as more than just your driver. I'm here to enjoy this wonderful meal with an even more wonderful company."

Raising his glass, Carlos proposed a toast to celebrate their special evening together. "To us," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection. "May this be the first of many unforgettable nights spent in each other's company."

As you savored each bite of the delicious meal, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you and Carlos. Laughter filled the air as you shared stories, dreams, and aspirations.

The setting and shared moments created a deep connection, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for this enchanting evening together. The hours flew by, and before you knew it, the empty plates and wine glasses were a testament to the delightful feast.

As the night progressed, you offered to give Carlos a well-deserved back massage. He gladly accepted and lay down on your couch, allowing you to work your magic. You applied gentle pressure and kneaded the tension from his muscles, feeling the knots melt away under his touch.

As you continued the massage, Carlos's body relaxed, and his mind became more at ease. The two of you watched the race replay on the television, analyzing every turn, every move, and every decision Carlos made.

It was a bittersweet moment as you both discussed the missed opportunities and what could have been done differently, but it also kind of brought you two closer together.

In that moment, Carlos realized that having someone who not only supported him but also understood his passion was truly invaluable.

"I think I should have attacked more at this turn," Carlos explained to you as he watched intensely at the way he drove on TV.

Suddenly he felt a sudden weight on his back and he peeked behind him to see you.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you peacefully slumbering on his back. The warmth of your body against his, coupled with the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath, brought about a sense of tranquility he hadn't felt in a long time.

Carlos gently shifted his position, careful not to disturb your sleep, and decided to stay in that moment a little while longer, relishing in the comfort and contentment of having you by his side.

As he continued watching the race replay, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that he had found not only a passionate supporter but also a person with whom he could share quiet, intimate moments like this.

You woke up in your bed for the second time in a row without knowing how you even got there in the first place. Confused, you blinked your eyes open and looked around, trying to piece together how you had ended up in your bed again.

The memories of the enchanting evening with Carlos and the comforting massage flooded back, but the details of how you had transitioned from the couch to your bed remained elusive.

It was as if the night had taken on a dreamlike quality, blurring the lines between reality and imagination. . . .

It was the Spanish Grand Prix, and you had the privilege of attending with Carlos for the first time since you've been together.

As you watched from your seat in Carlos' car how the bustling crowd of racing enthusiasts were, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The vibrant red sundress you wore perfectly matched Carlos' spirited personality and love of speed.

You made your way to the entrance, the sun kissed your skin, and the adrenaline in the air heightened the anticipation of witnessing the roaring engines and exhilarating race. It was a moment you would never forget, a celebration of your shared passion and the beginning of many more thrilling adventures together.

As you two emerged from the car, his hand immediately touched your hips, guiding you through the paddock to the Ferrari garage.

As you walked through the crowded paddock, you couldn't help but notice the sea of red surrounding you. It seemed like everyone was wearing the team colors to show their support for Carlos and his racing team.

The vibrant red sundress you chose seemed to blend in perfectly with the atmosphere, making you feel like a part of the action. Carlos looked at you with a smile, appreciating the effort you had put into matching with him.

Occasionally, he would stop to sign autographs for his adoring fans. The anticipation surrounding Carlos was immense, as this was his home track and everyone expected a lot from him.

Before heading off to his meeting, you turned to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Your words were filled with warmth and admiration. You assured him. "I'm proud of you, no matter what happens."

"Thank you Cariño." he said smirking at you.

As you watched Carlos prepare for his race, you realized that this time, you would stay by his side instead of wandering off or meeting up with Lily, as you had often done in the past. This time, you understood that he needed more support before this race even started.

Carlos' home track held a special significance for his performance. Not only did it come with a sense of familiarity and comfort, but it also brought with it the unwavering support of the local fans who had been cheering him on since the beginning.

The energy and encouragement from the crowd fueled his determination to push harder and achieve success in front of his home audience.

You watched as he checked his car with the team, catching him glancing up at you multiple times to see if you were still there. It was clear that your presence meant a lot to him, and you were determined to be his unwavering source of support throughout the race.

As the time approached for the race to start, Carlos took you into a private room. As Carlos pulled you into the private room, a sense of urgency filled the air.

With hungry, heated kisses, his lips passionately explored yours, igniting a fiery desire within you. His strong hands tightly gripped your hips, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

His actions sent shivers down your spine and intensified your longing for him. In that moment, you realized just how much his presence and touch ignited a deep desire within you, making you crave more of his passionate embrace.

You felt a surge of desire and passion, fueled by Carlos' intense affection. The way he held you, kissed you, and expressed his need for you created an irresistible magnetism between the two of you, intensifying your own desire and emotions.

Then, with a final look, he disappeared, leaving you with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

Minutes later, the roar of the engines filled the air, signaling the start of the race. Your heart raced as you awaited the outcome.

Carlos immediately shot off the starting line, his car a blur of speed and determination. He skillfully maneuvered through the pack, steadily gaining ground on the leaders. As the race progressed, it became clear that Carlos was in a fierce battle for first place with Max and Lando, exchanging positions and pushing each other to their limits.

The crowd erupted with excitement, their cheers fueling Carlos' determination to seize the coveted top spot. Lap after lap, he showcased his exceptional racing skills, executing daring overtakes and defending his position with unwavering focus.

The tension in the air was palpable as the race entered its final stages, and it became a nail-biting fight to the finish line.

And then, it happened. The crowd erupted in cheers as Carlos crossed the finish line, victorious. His car sped past, his smile radiating joy and triumph.

As soon as he stepped out of the car, his eyes immediately sought you out.

You melted into his embrace, savoring the taste of victory and the warmth of his touch. The crowd roared around you, but in that moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. Your hands were cupping his cheeks, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palms, while his hands rested firmly on your hips, anchoring you to the present.

The electrifying chemistry between the two of you was undeniable, and as you looked into each other's eyes, you knew that this victory was not just his, but yours as well.

In that instant, the world seemed to stand still. All your worries and doubts were forgotten. All that existed was the connection between you two.

In that moment, a surge of overwhelming love and pride washed over you. Thoughts of all the sacrifices and challenges you both had overcome flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but feel an immense sense of gratitude for being a part of Carlos' journey to victory.

"I'm so proud of you!" You said loud enough for him to hear over the chants of his name across the platform.

"Thank you Cariño, thank you for supporting me throughout," Carlos said, unable to think straight with the amount of adrenaline coursing through his body.

As the cheers of the crowd continued to echo in your ears, you leaned in and pressed your lips against Carlos' once more, savoring the taste of victory and the sweetness of his kiss. It was a moment of pure bliss, a celebration of their shared triumph.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, knowing that Carlos had to go to the podium to receive his well-deserved trophy.

With a final lingering glance, you whispered, "Go get that trophy, my champion." And with that, he ran off, leaving you with a heart filled with love and pride. . . .

It was the afterparty for Carlos' home win and everyone decided to go to a large club to celebrate.

As the night unfolded, you emerged from the car in a stunning red cocktail dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. The dress featured a plunging neckline and intricate lace detailing, exuding an air of elegance and sophistication.

The silky fabric cascaded down to your knees, swaying gracefully with every step you took. Your outfit was completed with a pair of sleek stiletto heels and a statement clutch, adding a touch of glamour to your ensemble.

As you entered the club, heads turned and whispers of admiration filled the air. The dimmed lights of the venue illuminated the sequins and beads embellishing your dress, creating a mesmerizing sparkle that mirrored the excitement in the room.

As the night progressed, you found yourself drawn into a conversation with the partners of the Formula One drivers.

"We're so proud of Carlos, we can't believe he did it," Lily said proudly, giving you a tight hug.

"Thank you, I can't believe it too," You replied, smiling happily at the memory of Carlos winning a few hours ago.

"It seemed like you were like his main support," Lily teased and your cheeks heated at her words.

"That's- that's not true." You denied it, "I just gave him an encouraging word here and there. It was mostly him that did all the work."

"That's not what Carlos said in his interview," Alexandra said, nudging your shoulder with hers.

Wanting to be a responsible person, you volunteered to be the sober one among you and Carlos. You wanted to allow Carlos to fully enjoy himself without worries, knowing that you would drive him home at the end of the night.

However, the girls in the group had a different idea. They suggested taking shots to celebrate, and despite your reservations, you decided to join the festivities.

As the night went on, the DJ played infectious music, prompting everyone to get up and dance. You found yourself caught up in the rhythm, joining in with the vibrant atmosphere.

Suddenly the music was lowered and you followed everyone's gaze, and to your surprise, there was Carlos walking into the club, holding his trophy high in the air. The crowd erupted into applause, creating a sea of cheering fans.

He made his way through the crowd, making space for himself to pass through. The crowd cleared out, creating a path for him to be in the center, where everyone could see him.

As he stepped onto the stage, the entire club erupted into applause. The cheering echoed through the air, a testament to his dedication and hard work.

You watched from a distance as Carlos delivered his speech, thanking his fans and everyone who had supported him that day. His words were filled with gratitude and humility, and it was evident that he meant every word.

From where you were standing, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in Carlos. He had achieved something extraordinary, and you had the opportunity to witness his moment of triumph firsthand.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a man in the crowd. He seemed particularly interested in you, despite it being widely known that you were already in a relationship with Carlos.

"Hello señorita, are you alone here?" The man asked. Some of his words were slurred.

"Umm, I'm not actually, I came with my friends," You said, trying to look for anyone familiar that was close by to help you.

"Well I don't see them so it's only me and you," he muttered amused by you. Everyone was watching Carlos' speech which meant that no one was going to help you.

"I'm in a relationship," you tried to remind him but that got him more angry.

"Lies! Everyone knows that you and him are in a PR relationship." He yelled, smashing his fist on the table he was leaning on.

You jumped at his actions, wishing someone would look and help you but it was never the case. This left you feeling confused and frustrated, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Just as you were contemplating how to respond, you felt a presence by your side.

Just as you were contemplating how to respond, you felt a presence by your side. It was Carlos. He looked concerned for you but angry at the man flirting with you.

Carlos stood protectively beside you, sending a clear message that you were not alone and that he would not tolerate anyone disrespecting you.

He stepped forward, his voice firm as he said, "I think it's time for you to leave."

The man's confident facade faltered, realizing he had crossed a line. He stammered an apology, his words barely audible, before quickly scattering off into the crowd. Carlos, still standing by your side, maintained his protective stance, his eyes never leaving the man's retreating figure.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful for Carlos' unwavering support in that moment.

Carlos then stood in front of you, holding your hands in his, "Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You shook your head, thankful that the situation didn't escalate further. "No, I'm okay. He was just being aggressive and disrespectful," you replied, feeling a mix of emotions.

Carlos squeezed your hands reassuringly, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and relief. "I'm glad you're safe. Let's stay together for the rest of the evening, okay? I won't let anything happen to you," he said, his protective nature shining through.

As Carlos guided you through the crowded room, his hands firmly on your waist, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and security. It was as if he was determined to keep you close, not wanting to lose sight of you again.

You leaned into his touch, grateful for his presence and the way he made you feel safe in a world that had seemed so uncertain just moments ago.

Eventually, you found the rest of the group and shared with them what had happened. Concerned for your well-being, they all agreed to stick together for the rest of the night, ensuring that everyone felt safe and protected.

As the evening went on, you felt a sense of unity and support among your friends, and the initial fear and uncertainty began to fade away.

Together, you formed a tight-knit circle, laughing, dancing, and enjoying each other's company, grateful for the strength and solidarity you found in one another.

All the boys decided to let the girls let loose and have a few drinks, taking on the role of guardians for the night.

They made sure the girls were safe, monitoring their alcohol intake and ensuring they were comfortable and protected.

It was a gesture of care and respect, fostering an environment where everyone could have a good time without any worries.

"Babe," you whined, clinging onto your boyfriend so you wouldn't fall to the ground.

Carlos chuckled, his eyes filled with both surprise and amusement at your playful whining. He tightened his grip around you, refusing to let you slip off.

"Oh, so you're trying to escape, huh?" he teased, pulling you closer and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Nice try, but I've got you. I won't let you fall, my love."

"Escape? Who said anything about escaping?" you replied with a mischievous grin, playfully swaying your body to the rhythm of the music.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge gleaming in his eyes. "Well, then show me your best dance moves, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you off the hook," he teased.

As the romantic melody filled the air, you and Carlos locked eyes, the playful banter fading into a tender moment. With a smile, you surrendered to the music, allowing it to guide your movement.

As the music pulsed through your bodies, you let your inhibitions melt away and decided to be more flirtatious with Carlos. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you began to sway your hips and grind your waist against him, teasing him with your seductive moves.

Carlos couldn't help but be captivated by your playful and alluring gestures, his eyes locked on yours, as the chemistry between you intensified on the dance floor.

The flirtatious energy in the air was palpable, as you whispered teasing promises in his ear, leaving him craving more of your touch.

"Mi amor, you better stop before you start something I won't stop," Carlos muttered into your ear, a playful warning laced with desire.

You laughed softly, feeling a surge of excitement at his words. "Oh, really? And what if I want to start something you won't stop?" you whispered back, your voice laced with a hint of seduction.

Carlos' eyes darkened with desire, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Then, mi amor, be prepared for a night you won't forget," he replied, his voice low and filled with anticipation

He leaned in and his lips crashed against yours, his kiss lingering for a few moments. You felt your heart flutter and your stomach knot as you melted into him, your body responding to him as if on autopilot.

You felt a wave of warmth wash over you as you gave in to the moment.

The night unfolded in a blur of passion and desire. Your memory of the events that followed became hazy, fragmented, and ultimately, nonexistent.

All you knew was that you had surrendered to the intoxicating connection between you and Carlos, allowing it to sweep you away into a realm where time stood still and only the sensations of pleasure remained. . . .

"Guys, we're going home," Carlos told the others while supporting you, his protective arm wrapped around your waist. As you stumbled slightly, still lost in the haze of passion, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his presence, knowing that he would take care of you every step of the way.

The night air was cool against your flushed skin as you stumbled towards Carlos' car. The events of the night replayed in your mind, a mix of excitement and contentment filling your thoughts.

As you settled into the passenger seat, you glanced at Carlos, a knowing smile passing between you.

As you fell asleep during the drive, Carlos carefully carried you into his house. His touch was gentle and protective. He laid you down on his bed, tucking you in with care before standing back to admire your peaceful form.

The events of the night had left you both physically and emotionally spent, and in that moment, Carlos couldn't help but feel a surge of tenderness towards you.

You woke up in a daze, your surroundings unfamiliar. Blinking away from the remnants of sleep, you realized you were in Carlos' bedroom. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room.

Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered the events of the previous night and the intense connection you shared with Carlos.

As you tried to move, you were slowly pulled into an embrace from behind you, making you jump slightly. Turning around, you saw Carlos half asleep in the bed, shirtless.

Carlos' dark hair was disheveled and sticking up in all directions, a clear sign that he had just woken up. His usually neat and tidy appearance was now replaced by the unkempt look of someone who had been sleeping soundly.

Despite his sleepy state, Carlos' facial features were still prominent. His strong jawline and high cheekbones gave him a rugged, masculine appearance, while his deep-set eyes and furrowed brow suggested a pensive, thoughtful nature.

As Carlos stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his upper body rippled beneath his skin. The defined contours of his chest and arms were a testament to his dedication to physical fitness, even as he fought against the lingering drowsiness of his slumber.

His tousled hair and sleepy expression only added to his allure, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, feeling a flutter of warmth in your chest.

His eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile formed on his lips as he pulled you closer, whispering, "Good morning, beautiful."

"Did we do it?" You questioned shyly, unable to remember anything after they left the club.

"No, we didn't, you fell asleep before we could do anything," Carlos muttered, fighting against the sleep. "We wouldn't do anything either way, you were drunk."

As you remembered what you were doing in the club, you felt embarrassed and ashamed. The intense connection you shared with Carlos had clouded your judgment, and you realized that you were dangerously close to breaking the rules of the PR contract.

If you didn't stop, you knew that the consequences could be severe, jeopardizing not only your professional reputation but also your relationship with Carlos.

"Carlos, this was only supposed to be temporary, you know?"

"What is?"

"Our relationship."

Carlos then woke up more, resting up against his elbow so he could look at you better. His eyes slowly opened, and a soft frown spread across his face as he gazed at you. He reached out a hand, gently caressing your cheek, his touch warm and comforting.

“You’re talking about the PR contract?”

“Yes, this is what they were worried about, us getting too attached,” you tried to stress your concern but Carlos didn’t look bothered at all.

Carlos fully turned to you, a conflicted look on his face. "I know, I know. But I...I don't think I can just pretend anymore. Not with you."

Your heart raced as he inched closer, his warm brown eyes searching yours. "Carlos, we can't. It'll ruin everything if anyone finds out."

"I don't care," he whispered, cupping your face in his hands. "I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."

And in that moment, any doubt you had melted away. You pulled him into a passionate kiss, all thoughts of the contract and the façade disappearing. This was real - the feelings you two had developed were undeniable.

His lips met yours with a fervent intensity, the heat between you palpable. All the unspoken emotions you had been harboring came rushing to the surface, igniting a fire within.

The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in his embrace, every touch sending electric shocks through your body.

In that passionate moment, there was no more room for hesitation or uncertainty. This connection you shared was undeniable, transcending any obligations or false pretenses.

It was real, raw, and overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. There was no turning back now - you had given yourself over completely to this man and the feelings you shared.

Whatever happened next, you knew you was in this with Carlos for the long haul. . . .

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。these traces of love, they outline you | gojo satoru

wc: 12.9k

summary: the 5 times gojo’s sure you’ve changed his life + the 1 time he hopes to change yours. 

contains: f!reader, pronoun she, 18+ nsfw (not super explicit but the act is there), symptoms similar to synesthesia, reader’s cursed technique, sparring, drunk call, pet names (cutie, silly, pretty, baby, loml), nervous feelings, tummy ache, food descriptions, surprise appearance of one character, emotional tears!!, internal thoughts and insecurities.

a/n: primarily in gojo's pov! & best read if you’ve gone through the other parts in the series! (lots of callbacks and references + better context!), lots of songs as inspo (would gladly share if you’re curious!), will add descriptions for the food in the a/n at the bottom!, from conceptualisation to actual writing this piece is my baby!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) <- you are here

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Gojo thinks he might pass out. 

There’s a feeling of unease sitting deep in his gut, nervous and gurgling. His hands have always been restless and fidgety but never this sweaty, and his head feels like it’s floating—even more than that first time he attempted a 24-hour stint on keeping up Infinity. 

It’s eerily quiet in his office as he waits for your meeting to end, the white colon on his digital clock taunting him as it flicks on and off—16:27. 3 more minutes until you finish. 

He paces around the room. 

Attempts at any distraction are thwarted when everywhere he looks, he’s reminded of you. There’s a photo hanging by the door, the mix-and-match of couch cushions in varying hues—all souvenirs you’ve given him from places you’ve been to. The coffee table books hold your touch too, and as he runs his hand over his face. he’s hit with that signature scent, clean and subtle from the hand cream you use.

Waiting in his office today has been absolute torture, but what’s made it more excruciating is the fact that he knows you’re aware of absolutely nothing.

To you, this is just like every other Friday. 

You’d done your usual morning routine, kissed him on the nose with the promise to meet him in his office after work, as you always do. And it feels like a big joke when he thinks about it now, because while he’s been on edge this entire day about it, you really have no clue what’s coming. 

To him, this could change everything with you. 

He’s been feeling it for a while now, the ripple effect of loving and being loved by you—how he can recall every time a single drop of you has shifted something deep within him, marked and colored you. 

There’s not a lot that Gojo wants now that he feels like he truly has it all, but when he thinks about all the times he’s sure you’ve changed his life, he hopes that with this one thing, he can change yours. 

.

.

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1 — UNDER YOUR TOUCH, WHEN IT GETS TOO MUCH

The weather today is good—sunlight peeking behind cloud pillows and the occasional gust of wind passing through the space you’ve put between you and Gojo. It’s neither too humid nor too dry and though Gojo does get the occasional sniffle from his pollen allergies around this time, he woke up earlier completely fine. 

So, the weather today is good, perfect even, for a brush-up on sparring practice. 

You’ve kept a sizable distance away from him since it started, and every attempt he’s made to draw nearer, you’ve only moved away farther—a push-and-pull, an old dynamic that shows itself in the ways you engage in battle.  

Gojo’s hands stay tucked in his pockets, his stance one you know perfectly well as relaxed but still guarded. He’s gotten a lot bulkier than the days you used to spar often, the past few years having filled in all the areas of what used to be slim, lean muscle. He doesn’t move because he knows the style you fight with, how you stay on defense until your opponent charges, utilizing their own strength against them. 

It’s the only way you’ve managed to win against someone as deadly as Gojo, equal-parts lethal in speed and strength. 

So when a cluster of clouds pass by and the sun glares directly into your eyes, Gojo smirks, then bends his knees as he lunges for an attack.

Your senses are sharp and reflexes quick; in the split second that a white-and-black blur appears before you, you attempt a high kick, only for it to be blocked with his forearm. He uses his other hand to twist around your ankle, trying to flip you over, but you see right through his motives. You huff, furrowing your brows as you narrowly escape, slipping your ankle out before he can fully grab a hold of it.

Most of this practice has felt like a stalemate, with the both of you waiting on the other for the most part of the hour. Gojo can see how it’s wearing you down, this entire thing being dragged out, and if he’s being honest—this is exactly what he wants.

Sparring out here with you today, while still meant for actual training, is also just an excuse to do this for old time’s sake—the way you huff and frown, jaw clenched as your fists ball up tightly like you’re doing right now.

He kind of misses seeing you like this, impatient and frustrated, so unlike the tenderness you always regard him with. 

A smile threatens to form on his lips, and he bites it back down. 

You only ever get like this sparring against him. 

The tension breaks when you decidedly throw a punch; it’s a desperate attempt to get the fight moving but he ducks, arm securing itself around your waist as he locks your hip with his. Before you can even comprehend, your body is lifted across his back and lowered down to the grass below—the only thing in sight being two blue skies, beaming at you. 

Somewhere during the commotion, he managed to remove his blindfold, hair let loose, fluffy and white almost like the clouds above you. Gojo isn’t taking this seriously at all; he’s way too soft, having cushioned your fall by carrying most of your weight instead of throwing you down like anyone seriously sparring is supposed to. 

He doesn’t care though. All he really wanted this afternoon was to reminisce with you. 

You’re kept underneath him, one of his arms remains wrapped around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—and it’s there, that frown on your face, that pout he’s witnessed for years evolve into what it is now. Beads of sweat collect at the crease between your brows, your temples tensing as you breathe out. 

Gojo at 17 would have teased you relentlessly for this, but he feels different now, warmth settling in his chest as he stares; he can’t help it, the words coming out of his mouth—

“You’re so—”

But he doesn’t even get to finish.

Everything around him blurs, green and blue blending in motion before he finds himself on his back, completely flipped over. He’s met with the sight of you, smug smile pulled wide with your hands resting on his chest. And his heart—

Can you feel it under your fingertips? How it’s beating a mile a minute? 

A shiver runs down his spine, the pinpricks of grass tickling the nape of his neck. The shock is tingling, his eyes fully open as he processes what just occurred. 

In the lapse of time he’d been a little too preoccupied staring at you, you managed to inch your leg to wrap around his, locking it at the last minute to flip him over—it lands you where you are now, on his lap, straddling his hips. 

“Sneaky.” he gazes fondly, grin teasing.

You catch your breath, “Do I win?” 

“Only because I let you get too close this time.”

Which is a lie, he knows, because having you near him like this, with some form of touching—you could never be close enough.

You roll your eyes, his fingers grabbing hold of your thighs. The grass pricks at your knees through the fabric of your leggings, and Gojo knows that if you stay like this any longer, it’s going to start to itch.

“Did I hurt you anywhere?” you ask, already assessing him for any point of injury. Your eyes go over his face before trailing down his arms, rarely exposed today in his black compression shirt.

“Yeah,” he pouts, pointing to his lips, all pink and puckered out, “kiss it better?” 

Asking for this is against his better judgment, he’s aware; with the way you’re situated on his lap, this could escalate into something else entirely. You shake your head, swatting at his chest. His grip on your thighs loosens as you get off him, but the curl of your lips is extremely telling. 

As you stand up to dust your knees, Gojo gazes at you fondly. The sun hides behind you from where you tower over him, but the halo effect around your head is just as blinding. 

“Lie down with me,” he pats the space beside him. You quirk your brow but follow anyway. 

He requests, not asks, because the weather today is good, and it’s making him a little bit sentimental, remembering earlier days with you. 

You lie down, positioning your head to align with his. And for a few moments, Gojo doesn’t speak, just looks at you once and smiles before turning to face the sky, hand placed behind his head as he sighs. 

You do the same for a while, this shared silence warm and just right. 

“So rude,” he jokingly tuts, “interrupting me while I was talking earlier…” 

“You shouldn’t have been so distracted then,” you tease back, sneaking a glance only to lock eyes with two skies. 

He wonders if you can tell—how he’s always looking at you in the stolen seconds before you notice him. 

“Well, you shouldn't have been so distracting then,” he holds your gaze. 

It’s incredibly cheesy but a part of you still feels like melting—he sounds so sincere; no lilt, no tease, no Gojo-typical flirting laced into it. 

You scrunch your nose, shifting on your side to face him, the arm used to support your head now resting against your cheek. He follows, taking one last look around him before turning to you. His other hand rests on your hip, fingers splayed out while his thumb draws hearts on fabric. 

You reach for him. 

The gesture is small, just your finger running across his cheek, but it nudges something in him—a memory of you and how you’ve always touched him like this: softly, kindly. 

“Remember when you used to do this?” he takes your hand, long and lithe fingers wrapping around yours as he guides them over his ear. 

Your eyes widen in recognition and he blinks, taking you in as he stares, “Wanna do it now?”

Concern reveals itself in the furrow of your brows, “Is it hurt—”

“No,” he chuckles, already knowing what you’re about to say.

The last time you did this for him, he didn’t even have to ask. One look and you knew—it’d been the night of his final conversation with Suguru. His skull-splitting migraine ensued after bickering with Shoko on what to do with the body. You were there; you heard everything, and when she gave up arguing and left, there was only one thing you could do. 

With his head on your lap by his office couch, you tuned out the sounds. 

He doesn’t prefer you using your cursed technique this way; it takes a considerable amount of your cursed energy to focus its effects solely on another body—and frankly, it’s a waste of time for you to spend all of that on him, at least in his opinion, personally. 

You’d struggled a lot with your technique back in high school, having to learn how to fully manipulate different sonic hues: white noise, brown noise, any and all of it in the entire spectrum. Being able to amplify, distort, reduce, and isolate them into their respective hues covers only the bare minimum when it comes to understanding your technique.

It’s tedious work, and when one of your senses holds so much more power over the others, the information that flows through it can be overwhelming, overloaded even. Sorting through all that noise—he gets it, gets you, and how it must hurt too. 

And yet you, at 17, still figuring out how to grasp it all, came knocking on his door when you noticed he hadn’t come for dinner. Quietly, you placed your hands over his ears and selflessly offered your discomfort for his relief. 

The first time you did this for him, you’d only heard of his migraines from Shoko. You witnessed it yourself when he opened his door and looked so unlike himself: blindfold secured tightly but haphazardly, strands of hair sticking out oddly; his room seemed to be blacked out completely. 

Gojo Satoru is no stranger to sensations beyond what any human should be subjected to, but when you laid your hands on him that day, cursed energy tickling his ears as it flowed through your fingertips—he’d never felt more normal, more human to be able to hear things without conjuring a visual of it. 

It’s almost like you silenced his mind—enough to hear himself, and you, and the buzz of the white noise you’d amplified to flow through him in his blacked out room. 

You’ve gotten a lot better at controlling it now, the task in itself barely causing you any ache or struggle at all. 

“Just like old times,” he nudges you. 

So you keep your hand where he’s left it, covering his ear with your palm as your fingers rest on his temples. Cursed energy flows from your touch, all sounds drowning out. 

He keeps his eyes on yours, watching as your expression shifts with every sonic hue you focus on—an upgrade to your abilities the more you’d gotten the hang of it. 

You concentrate hard for white noise, creating your own mix to emulate radio static, transitioning out to green noise the moment you highlight the sound of birds chirping. Then, you ease it to brown noise, intensifying the soft whistles of the wind to mimic it. 

It’s weird how sentimental he’s been feeling lately—without any trigger or anything, but the more he leans into your palm, the more it gets him thinking. 

Touch had begun as extremely foreign to him—a god revered and valued but never really truly loved, untouchable with infinity, and the pedestal he’s always stood on. 

It was never supposed to be important to him. 

Until you. 

From your kindness that first day, and the many more that followed: of fingers brushing and hand-holding to breaths mingling and bodies moulding, moving—you’ve always touched him in ways no one else has, in places no one’s been able to reach. 

And if it wasn’t important then, completely foreign, it’s important now, so much that he looks for it everywhere, all the time, even. The way you scratch the short bristles of his undercut, fingers dragging down to the nape of his neck; the way you tap his collarbone thrice, run your fingers across his lip, and intertwine your fingers with his at random. 

When Gojo thinks about your touch, he thinks about how gentle it is, with intent and purpose. How it’s always been careful for him but never of him, and that’s made the biggest difference. 

He blinks, and you follow two times, focusing on him. 

All he hears is a heartbeat now, a little too fast to be at rest, but still steady and grounding—

The way he feels when he’s with you. 

Whether it’s his or yours, from your cursed technique or just the blood rushing in his ears, he knows this is pink noise, the one you’d so excitedly shown him when you first mastered it. 

The pink noise that resounded all throughout his twenty-somethings, when he first realized that you meant more to him than what you were. 

.

.

.

2 — WHEN YOU CALL MY NAME

The bed feels cold tonight. 

Gojo’s been staring at the lights on his ceiling for the past 30 minutes, and though his pillow is cool and blanket soft, he’s wide awake—nowhere near falling asleep any time soon. 

He shifts to the side, the space beside him taunting, empty. 

He misses you. 

For the past week, you’ve been off to a much-needed girls trip with Shoko and Utahime. He’d even offered to pay for the entire accommodation—to which you and Utahime declined, while Shoko shrugged, crossing her arms as she snorted, “If he really wants. At least he’s being useful.” 

You’d compromised and agreed that he could pay for an evening out in some nightclub. 

Now, he regrets it. A little bit. Maybe. 

Gojo’s bed is big, a king-size that fits the height of him and all his long limbs, and while it’s comfortable and spacious–supposed good things–he feels anything but comfortable in how spacious and vacant it now feels. 

He turns to the other side, facing his sidetable instead.

The digital clock reads 01:17 and he sighs; you still have a few days left. 

The next time you bring up being away for this long, he’s going with you. Even if he has to spend the entire day on his own, he’ll do it—as long as he gets to end it next to you. 

If he’s really thinking about it, nothing’s stopping him from teleporting there right now. He could hop in quick, give you a hug, hopefully a kiss, and maybe even get lucky if you allow him to steal you for the night. He’ll teleport you right back in the morning and it’ll be like you never left, even. 

He could do it. You can never resist him when he gives you his googly eyes. 

If you’re already back from—

Bzz bzz. His phone vibrates. 

He reaches for it over his night stand, instantly sitting up once he reads that it’s from you—the nickname he just recently changed your contact to. 

(It was always just your name, simple and straightforward, easy to find; when you return, he’s probably going to change it back because you prefer it that way—for safety purposes and everything.

But while he still can, he’s going to keep it like this: a petname with an obnoxious string of emojis that he associates with you).

1:20 a.m. 

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> satoourur are u awaeke??

The corner of his lips curl up, endeared at the image of you hunched over your phone, fingers slipping as you clumsily press the wrong letters. So cute. 

1:21 a.m.

< yes cutie? ( ˘ ³˘) 💕

1:21 a.m. 

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> casll?

He stares at it for a good minute or two, trying to decipher this rare, drunken code from you. But before he gets the chance to respond, your face appears on his screen, a photo of you he’d taken months ago, mid-chew special Daifuku.

You’re calling. 

He grins, biting his lower lip. His feet slip inside the house slippers by the side of his bed as he gets up, swiping his phone to answer before holding it against his ear. 

“Miss me already?” he teases, padding out of his bedroom.

“Satoruuu,” you drawl. Definitely drunk, if not tipsy.

Even like this though, Gojo aches when he hears you speak; there’s a twinge that pokes at his ribcage, making him wish he was right next to you.

The music around you sounds muffled, almost as if you’d stepped out just to make this call—another thought that makes him ache.

He walks down the hall towards his kitchen and stops, realizing: if you stepped out of the club, does this mean you’re alone? He trusts you can take care of yourself, but if you’re this inebriated…

“Are you with Shoko and Utahime?” he asks casually, attempting to mask his worry. His hand digs deeper into his pocket, shifting his weight to his other foot. 

“‘Nside.” you slur. 

You don’t actually sound that drunk, more sleepy if anything, really, but his heart still picks up pace. Maybe he should just go to you already. 

“You should go to them,” he urges, continuing his walk to the kitchen. 

“M’be later,” you sigh, and he hears a bit of rustling on your end—a soft curse and a small thud, “w’na talk t’you.” 

Another ache. 

He can picture it: you, in some sidestreet, phone clutched to your ear as you tuck your hair back before sighing, legs buckling as you clumsily drop down to sit. 

“Oh?” he lilts, eyebrow lifting. A smirk forms on his lips, head tilting as he wedges his phone between his neck and shoulder. He reaches for his refrigerator, “Got something to tell me, pretty?”

He doesn’t really know what he’s expecting you to say, maybe a recount of your day, or something funny that he’s bound to laugh at, whatever it is. 

“Just miss you.” 

He wasn’t expecting you to say this—

—in an exhale, with a slight tremble, like it’s been waiting to be let out. Vulnerable. 

There’s another ache, and he nearly drops the water bottle.

He should really just go to you.

His phone nearly slips from his neck, the thump of his heartbeat on rampage as he readjusts it.

He swallows, “I miss you too.” 

And it’s odd, how it sounds when he says it, a bit shaky too. A stillness settles in the room and it echoes off every kitchen equipment and countertop. He can’t even get himself to tease you for this one. 

“I can go there now, if you want.” he offers, almost a whisper, before attempting a chuckle. It comes out flat, tinted a little sad, “Blink twice and I’ll be there when you open your eyes.”

You giggle on the other end, and it fills him in this moment. 

When he looks around his apartment now, steel finish and walls accented black, the backsplash of his kitchen a grayish hue of iron—it reminds him of luxury fit for a bachelor, sleek in its utility. 

He’s lived here since his mid-twenties, and he likes how it’s designed, the colors and feel of it right up his alley. The furniture remains simple, modern and minimalist, filling the spaces of his open floor plan down to the two bedrooms and office space. 

But right now, it feels so empty. 

“Silly,” you chuckle, he can hear your grin forming, affection dripping, “my silly baby.”

Now his heart really aches. 

The subtle static makes you sound unreal, strung together by radio waves; it’s rare enough for you to call him ‘baby’, and for you to say it when he can’t even see or hold you while you do it—it’s cruel; a test of his restraint. 

He rests his back against the kitchen counter, arm coming across his chest to rest under his elbow, supporting the one holding his phone–you–by his ear. His teasing is softer tonight, tinged by yearning, so he hums, “Your silly baby, huh? Any chance it could be your silly ‘Toru instead?” 

The way he says ‘‘Toru’ is a pitch lower, slower, and exaggeratingly more seductive in his banter; it’s what you call him in bed, or by accident, and in the moments you find yourself needing him in ways he can only satisfy by being your lover. 

If you say it, he’s definitely going to teleport himself over. 

You giggle again. 

“S’that your fav’rite one?” you mumble, words blending together. He can imagine your cheek smushed against your knee, arms curled around your legs as you sit on concrete, “‘‘Toru?’” 

When he thinks about it, you aren’t too big on his nicknames—at least, not as much as he is with you. You only call him three things: baby (which truthfully, he had to convince you to), ‘Toru (first whispered in the moment, heat fueling it), and Satoru (since you were 16, weighted and grounding throughout all the years you’ve known him). 

Is ‘‘Toru’ his favorite? 

For obvious reasons, maybe.

But—

“I like everything you call me,” he smirks, shifting his weight. 

“Sweet-talker.” 

He closes his eyes, head tilting back as he leans further—and he swears, he can see you, the image of you rolling your eyes and scrunching your nose seared into his eyelids. 

God damn, he really misses you.

“You love it,” he murmurs.

A beat. He hears the faint honk of a car before you drown it out, sighing. 

“I do,” you whisper, admittance ringing in his ears, “I love you, Satoru.” 

He hears this all the time, but tonight it just aches; the way you say things so sincerely, so honestly even in an inebriated state—how you call him Satoru and it’s still weighted, still grounding, like who he is resides right there, in the softness of your lips. 

Gojo’s always been relevant but when you call him Satoru, he feels more than just the name.

If you’re asking about his favorite, he thinks this might be it—in every handwritten note you leave, his name scrawled in your hybrid of semi-print-semi-cursive letters; in every call you pick up, opening always with a ‘Satoru?’, end pitched higher, sweet and curious. 

“C’n I tell you somethin’?” you ask (even when you don’t need to, even when he’s already listening). 

“Let me guess, Utahime has a travel ick and Shoko—”

“Satoru.” you scold, rolling your eyes, but there’s no bite. The next bit you say under your breath, a little fragile, “‘M serious.”

The nervousness sits in his stomach; this conversation feels significant.

He takes a seat on his barstool. 

“Listening.” 

For a while, it’s only your breathing; knowing you, you’re probably thinking, crafting what to say carefully. 

You sigh again, and—

“I worry sometimes,” you admit.

He furrows his brows, “About?”

“That maybe bein’ with me’s a lil’ boring?”

And this… this aches in a different way. 

How can you even think that? 

You chuckle anxiously; he can bet you’re biting your lips, a habit you’ve picked up from him. 

He rests an elbow on his kitchen island, leaning onto it as he tilts his phone closer to his ear. 

“Apologize right now,” he commands, sternness making him feel a little guilty, “that’s the person I love you’re slandering.” 

But you only laugh, real and more relaxed, nervousness dissipating. 

“My bad, my bad,” you play along before mumbling, “‘m just sayin’, there’re lotsa others who are more everythin’ y’know?” 

He wonders what’s got you thinking like this, if it’s triggered by seeing people at the club, perhaps younger and far livelier—how you spent those years of your life exorcizing curses and making a home for two kids. 

“So what? They’re still not you.”

And he means it, genuinely.

Your breath hitches and he grins, swinging around on the bar stool. 

Those years of youth were still fun, he thinks, and it’s precisely because of you—how you’d made the apartment the four of you stayed in as fun and homely as a teen barely pushing twenty could.

You had your fair share of mishaps and adventures—rushed breakfasts and Megumi’s ‘my dog ate my homework’s. Tsumiki had to miss a day of school once because you accidentally booked her a birthday gift trip to Disneyland on a weekday. 

(And he got scolded a lot, ‘Satoru’ exhaled with a look. But it would only last a few moments; you can never stay mad at him, no matter how hard you try). 

There was no way you and Gojo had the maturity and responsibility of actual parents (maybe more like inexperienced guardians, really), but you tried your hardest to give Megumi and Tsumiki a home. 

Home, what he’s beginning to realize reminds him of you.

He looks around him now, at the details of his interior, and begins to think of yours—your apartment, a little more wooden and lived-in; there’s a lot more wear but also a lot more love, never empty like his feels right now. 

“If being with you was so boring, I wouldn’t be itching to go to you right now.” he confesses, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants. 

You laugh again before it falls into comfortable silence. 

Muffled conversations and the occasional beep sound in your background. There’s a couple giggling around you and he thinks that could be the two of you—if only he were with you. 

“Satoru,” you call him softly. 

He hums, letting it sink in—the way you say his name, distinct in how you stress his consonants despite the softness around his vowels.

When you say ‘Satoru’, it always feels targeted, speaking straight to who he is. 

“‘M so happy it’s you,” you whisper shyly, but it’s bright—unmistakably smiling, the visual of your eyes crinkling. 

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, drunken affection and vulnerable confessions, but there’s that ache again, and all he wants to do is go to you, hold you. Be with you. 

For a while, Gojo’s been resigned to the fact that there are some things he can’t give you: how you’ll never know true peace because he’ll always be linked to jujutsu society; how choosing him means choosing the tumultuous, the unpredictable. 

And while you’ve already told him that you prefer this life with him better, for you to say you’re happy, that it’s him—

He’s thankful it’s you, too. 

Tears collect at his lash line, pools of gratitude, “I love you.”

“Hmm? you’re coverin’ the mic w’your double-chin,” you joke, just to hear him say it again, he knows. 

(There’s no way he has a double-chin from how you complain about his jawline being too sharp all the time). 

“I love you.” he repeats, louder, steadier, pressing it into his phone’s microphone. 

He’ll repeat it again as many times as you want him to. 

You giggle and he echoes it—like that couple from earlier, your own version. 

The clock reads 02:47, and he normally doesn’t like being up this late, barely getting enough sleep as is. But if you’re the reason why, he doesn’t mind staying awake.  

.

.

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3 — TUCKED IN BED, WHEN I LIE CORRECTED

“Satoru, you can’t keep eating sweets on an empty stomach.”

He turns beside you, the dull rumbling of the Shinkansen hardly masking how loudly he asks, “Why not?” 

An old man seated across the aisle looks your way, grumpy by the folds between his brows—as if he’d been woken up by Gojo’s whining. You bow your head slightly in apology. 

It’s been an early day so far, with you and Gojo catching the first train out from Kyoto to Tokyo. Departing at 06:14 doesn’t exactly leave room for food stops, so all you have are the two water bottles handed out from yesterday’s meeting and a pack of (now) half-eaten Hi-Chew that Gojo picked up from the convenience store last night. 

“You’ll get a stomach ache.” you whisper, with emphasis. 

He fiddles with the stick of Hi-Chew, tossing it between his fingers before popping one piece out. 

The seats in the Shinkansen are spacious enough for Gojo to stretch his long, gangly legs, but despite all the free room in your row, he’s chosen to encroach on your space, sticking to you shoulder-to-shoulder. 

“Nonsense,” he tilts his face, sunglasses sliding a few centimeters down the bridge of his nose, “I do this all the time.” 

And his eye, clear and bright blue amidst the morning haze zipping past the windows of the train, winks at you. 

Heat warms your cheeks; it’s too early for this. 

The moment you look away, hiding your smile, he knows he’s got you. 

. 

Or not. 

Because you seem to have gotten him—

—tucked in bed, nursing this stomach ache that could have been avoided if he just listened. 

To be fair, he does do it all the time: a few candies, sometimes gummies first thing in the morning, last thing at night. So he’s right, it’s nonsense; he probably got this from something else. 

(Even when you’d both eaten the same meals—how you always order to share because you like tasting a little bit of everything). 

Which is why, you insist it’s from the sweets, his beloved Hi-Chew to be specific. And though he wants to, he can’t argue much when he’s curled into a fetal position, clutching his stomach while writhing in bed. 

“I made you tea,” you stand by your bedside, holding out your mug—small cereals patterned all over it. 

He opens an eye, hair mussed up from all his squirming. The pain in his stomach is radiating, a knot that tightens in waves; this is different from the twist-y pop-y sparks of jealousy, and is nothing compared to the sting of multiple slashes. 

Still, it’s a pain he doesn’t understand: a mixture of feeling gassy and bloated, like he needs to run to the toilet only for it to turn out futile. What makes it worse is that when he catches a glimpse of you, a lock of hair perfectly out of place, the sensation in his stomach intensifies—like butterflies flapping (or maybe just another wave of radiating pain). 

“S’hot,” he grumbles, half of his face mushed into the pillow.

The mug in your hand is piping hot, steam lifting from it, and Gojo doesn’t like drinking hot things; he’s burnt his tongue enough times on hot chocolate that he swears any hot liquid is out to get him.

But you don’t know that about him—he’s never told you, he thinks. 

You take a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“That’s kind of the point, baby.” you chuckle, tone doting with a hint of pity, “It has to be.” 

Your hand rests on his thigh, attempting to soothe him. He catches your eye and whines. 

“If I blow on it, will you drink?” you plead, “Please?”

At this point, he doesn’t know what hurts more: this stupid stomach ache or how nice you’re being. 

You could have said ‘I told you so’ the moment his stomach started gurgling when you both arrived in Tokyo—but you didn’t. Instead, you asked him what exactly he was feeling and had him change into his pajamas as you nursed him to bed. Then, you cooked him real food, a bowl of Okayu for his stomach to digest something plain and non-irritable. 

You haven’t stopped moving since you both got back from Kyoto, unpacking both your things while simultaneously darting in and out your bedroom, checking in.  

How you speak to him is so gentle, caring, doting—even when you have every right to hold it against him. 

He pushes himself up, leaning back on the headrest. You smile, lovely, and beautiful, and every bit healing that it eases the pain a little, somehow. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you blow on his tea, scooting closer.

A gurgling sound comes from his stomach again, but it’s manageable, and he bears it as he takes you in—how you’ve barely had the time to change out of your clothes since this morning. You’re tired, he’s sure, but you don’t mention it as you take care of him. 

The bed dips as you draw nearer, bringing the mug to his lips—he’s a grown man and he can definitely do this on his own, but you always take such good care of him. 

Who is he to say no?  

Sips of peppermint coat his tongue, warm as it eases down his throat. He wraps his fingers around yours, drinking a third of the mug before urging you to set it down. 

“I’ll heat up a hot compress,” you motion to get up, placing the mug by your bedside. 

He stops you, grip loose on your wrist. 

“Have you eaten?” 

You stare at him, a little surprised, but you nod.

“Just stay with me, then. Don’t need that thing.” 

Your brows furrow, pouting, “But it’ll help,” 

“Hug me instead,” his fingers play with yours, intertwining, “or I’ll hug you. Either.” 

You shoot him a look, disbelieving, but he musters up a wink, for you, despite the new wave of pain arising. 

“Okay,” you sigh, knowing you can’t exactly argue. As you get up, you land a kiss on top of his head, rubbing his knuckles as you get ready for bed. 

When you come back, dressed in your pajamas, he’s turned to his side, lifting the comforter to welcome you in. You lie face-to-face with him, his arm reaching out to rest on your lower back, pushing you closer. 

“You sure this is enough?” you whisper, breath tickling his chin. 

“Mm, yeah,” he hums, hugging you tighter as he grins, “you’re hot.” 

You hit his arm lightly, and he chuckles.

It turns quiet, then he shifts, resting his forehead against yours. White strands, as pale as your pillowcases tickle your eyes. 

He nuzzles your nose, hiking your leg up to rest on his hip while slotting his leg between your thighs—like a pretzel, twisted into each other tight. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

He’s said this before, and no matter how much you say it isn’t true—he’ll always think it, believe it. 

You frown, gripping his waist, “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know.” 

And he thinks you’ve always been like this: hands outstretched farther than his, offering yourself to help carry whatever pain, struggle, or burden you can. You cry for the sadness others feel, share the hurt of anyone who needs it. You’re the pillar, the support for everyone around you—from Yuuji, Megumi, and Tsumiki all the way back to Utahime, Suguru, and Nanami. 

You’ve always been this way, ever since he met you. 

“Does it still hurt?” you mutter, concerned, fingers grazing his stomach. 

It does and it doesn’t—the pain is unfamiliar but he can take it, having gone through far worse. If he’s being really honest, a part of him just likes being babied by you. 

“Better,” he inches back a little, lips curling into mischief, “would definitely go away with some Hi-Chew.” 

You shoot him a look, then pout. 

“Satoru.” 

He figures there are still a few things you don’t know about him: how he really dislikes hot drinks, how discomfort turns him into a whiney, needy baby, and how he remains incredibly stubborn, maintaining what he stands for (but maybe you know this already). 

“Hey, you should be thanking my Hi-Chew’s. It helps with energy when we fu—” 

You swat at his chest in hopes of shutting him up.

He clears his throat, correcting himself instead, “—make love.” 

This is hardly the time or situation to be talking about the other things you do on your bed, given that he’s been out of commission, curled in on himself the entire day on it. But you sigh, resting your palm on his cheek. 

He turns to peck your wrist, hand coming up to cover yours.

“Just because you were fine doing it before, doesn’t mean you always will be.” you whisper, rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone. 

And Gojo thinks he’s right most of the time, if not all the time, but—

“We’re not old, but we aren’t as young as we used to be, you know? Have to take better care of ourselves now…” you continue.

—when you talk to him like this, you humble him. Immensely. 

He’s always known that if he were to give in to anyone, it’d be to you. 

Things are different now, he knows; his considerations have changed too—like how to lay the foundations of a new, ideal jujutsu society, with all the political and diplomatic gymnastics he knows is necessary; what to do with all this downtime, with all this life and no more death looming overhead; there’s also you, where this relationship is headed, what he plans to do. 

“What will I tell everyone when the love of my life, Gojo Satoru, the strongest, gets knocked out by sweets?” 

Then you joke around like this so casually, kissing his nose and calling him the love of your life like it doesn’t bear commitment that spans your–his–entire lifetime—it shakes him a little. 

He holds his breath, eyes staring at yours. You seem completely unfazed—a slip of the tongue maybe, so he lets it go. 

“Okay, okay,” he pinches your nose as you scrunch it, “I’ll try, but no promises.” 

You kiss his wrist in return—the softness of your lips always turning him a little delirious when he feels it. He pulls you closer to his chest, palm pressed to the back of your head as his other arm wraps around you, squeezing you tighter. 

“But don’t complain if I only last one rou—” 

He gets kicked in the thigh. 

.

.

.

4 — WHEN IT'S YOUR WAY OR DOWN THE DRAIN

There’s the right way, then there’s the Gojo way. 

Sometimes there’s an overlap, but most times he’s just unorthodox. Gojo’s always had his own way of doing things, but now, he’s throwing all that down the drain in lieu of doing things your way (which in this case, he’s decided is the right way). 

Between the two of you, you’re definitely better at cooking. 

He isn’t inept at it per se; all these years, he’s managed to get by. It’s just that, he’s only ever made quick, simple things—barely having the time or need to make things on his own when you seem to have an extra plate on standby.

Long cooks like this, for real, big meals aren’t his forte at all. 

This is the fullest his kitchen has ever been, a trip to the grocery store producing bags overflowing with the ingredients he needs. He tightens his apron (yours, actually) by his waist, pale pink a stark contrast to his black shirt and gray lounge pants. It’s tiny on him, barely fitting, but it covers enough to (hopefully) save him from any mishaps. 

With all the ingredients lined up on his kitchen counter, he stares, hands on hips as he contemplates where to begin. 

You’ve mentioned before how his kitchen is every cook’s dream: complete equipment, all high-grade with steel surfaces for easy wipe downs and more than enough real estate to move around. It’s a shame he’s barely used it over the years, either too busy out on missions or lately, too often staying at yours.

The unease makes him fidgety.

There’s an air of confidence that normally surrounds Gojo in everything he does, but it wavers just a bit with this one. 

He has to get this right. 

It’s your anniversary—the third (officially), but the number doesn’t matter as much when the years have always blurred the lines of what you are to each other. 

The past two celebrations were cute and fun, adventurous in how you’d spent the first one on a trail date up north, and the second one fruit picking in a farm, just west of Tokyo—things you’d both done for the first time, together. Now, there’s added pressure because this is your thing; everything on the menu for tonight’s home cooked dinner is based on your recipes. 

You know all of this by heart. And though he’s aware he doesn’t have to impress you, he wants to. 

He glances at the clock: 15:05 in white, 4 hours until you arrive. The table hasn’t been set up yet and he’s barely dressed, an array of ingredients on the table waiting to be transformed into four of your recipes he plans to attempt. 

Gojo is no quitter, but it’d be stupid of him to underestimate how fast time flies. 

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list—then he shoots a text, pocketing the device as soon as he hits send.

.

In the amount of time between asking for help and said help standing outside his door, ringing the doorbell, Gojo’s managed to do most of the prepwork: slice all the vegetables, set the rice cooker, and mix together all the sauces and glazes so he can set them aside for later. 

“Just type it!” he shouts from the kitchen.

Four beeps sound from the door, a soft woosh following as it opens. Help enters in the form of spiky hair and a deadpan gaze, putting on house slippers by the genkan as he drags his feet to the kitchen counter. 

“Megumi!” 

The younger boy sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his joggers, long sleeves wrinkling higher. “Why did you call me?” 

“Oh!” Gojo claps his hands together, “I need your help.” 

Megumi looks him over, eyes zeroing in on the pink apron, then the bowls of sauces and chopped vegetables in front of him. The rice cooker is steaming beside the sink while empty pots and pans line the burners of the stove. 

“With cooking?” Megumi shifts his attention back to Gojo as the older male nods. He mumbles, “You made it sound like an emergency.”

(“Come here now.” in proper punctuation, lacking any of his usual emoticons—only ever being used in the most dire situations).

Gojo furrows his brows, “It is!” 

Megumi stares. 

“Anniversaries are emergencies.” Gojo stares back, holding the silence for a few seconds before he continues, demeanor turned serious, “Think of it as doing this for your Sensei, not me.” 

There’s a crack in Megumi’s resolve that Gojo knows only appears when it comes to you; a soft spot that exists because you’ve always been closer, warmer—an accumulation of all the times you were adamant on being present because the kids deserved someone there, especially when he couldn’t be. 

Megumi sighs, resigned, as he pushes up his sleeves, trudging over to the sink. He turns on the tap, soaping his hands until it suds, “You should have asked Itadori.”

“Yuuji wouldn’t know how it’s supposed to taste though.” 

“Sensei’s recipes?”

Gojo nods, fanning out pieces of paper from the recipe folder you keep in your kitchen drawer, “Your favorites.”

Megumi scrunches his nose, embarrassed as pink tints the tips of his ears. 

His relationship with Megumi has always been a bit weird, a not-quite-parent-maybe-kind-of-distant-guardian-and-good-but-annoying-mentor-slash-benefactor kind of weird. And he’s sure that the boy isn’t too fond of the idea that he knows small, seemingly trivial things about him like his favorite food, but if there’s anything they can settle on, it’s definitely love for you. 

“Do you have another one?” Megumi turns to Gojo, pointing to the hair band pushing back his hair. 

.

There’s a different kind of care in cooking that he’s now realizing, coming face-to-face with the pot of dashi he’s just started boiling—a patience that comes with waiting and an efficiency meant for multi-tasking.

During the 30 minutes of soaking the kombu, they split tasks: Gojo takes duty rolling the Temaki on his own, while Megumi seasons the Wagyu and prepares the Sunomono. It’s not long before Megumi is directed to setting up the table as Gojo focuses on the Miso Soup. 

There’s a reference photo, some picture he pulled online. The gray plates and silverware on his dining table match the iron-hued backsplash and steel surfaces of his kitchen, sleek but softened by the vase of red and white camellias from the florist you frequent. 

Megumi doesn’t say anything, frankly because he’s gotten used to walking in on Gojo searching up these things: a youtube video of trail dates and articles of ‘the top 10 best farms for fruit picking’. There was also that time he found Gojo’s browser open on a catalog of lingerie.

(Megumi’s been trying really hard to forget that). 

These aren’t things Gojo’s done before, much less thought of—romance and all. 

But he admits, it’s hard work, wiping off the sweat on his brow caused by the heat from the stove. 

“Why,” Megumi sighs, “Why are you cooking anyway?” He mumbles, adjusting the silverware on the table, “Couldn’t you just reserve some place?”

Most of the cook has been silent, with Gojo too focused and Megumi barely saying a word. So while adding the katsuobushi after the kombu boils, the older male answers. 

“I would have, but she said she wanted to stay home,” he turns away from the pot, leaving the katsuobushi to soak as he shrugs. 

Megumi snorts, straightening out the black tablecloth, “Don’t you have anywhere you want to go?” 

It’s a simple question. Innocent. 

But it hits him then, how what you say follows; how ‘anywhere he wants to go’ is wherever you are, how he’s choosing to cook this meal for you instead of just ordering in—-how he’s now considering you, in everything.

This isn’t his strong suit, far from it, really, but because he’s thinking of what you want—suddenly he’s domesticated, cooking for you in hopes of romancing you (even though he already has you).   

You come first now, and he finds that he doesn’t mind. 

He turns back to the stove, straining the soup through a fine-mesh sieve before adding miso paste, dissolving it into the dashi.

“I guess not.” 

The thought stays with him, even as he drops in the tofu, dried wakame seaweed, and green onion. Even as he waits for it to finish cooking, moving the pot atop a different burner while grabbing a spoon to dip in it. 

“Megumi, come taste,” he calls behind him. 

And when the boy sidles up next to him, he feels nervous, fingers trembling as he hands over the spoonful of Miso Soup. He stares at Megumi, eyes wide open, anticipating. 

The boy arches an eyebrow as he takes the spoon, blowing on it gently. He takes a small sip.

“I added less salt because—” Gojo speaks up, a bit panicked, fingers scratching at his nail beds. 

“She’ll like anything you make, even if it tastes bad.”

Gojo’s brows furrow, “Are you saying it’s bad?” 

“Or bland.” Megumi adds, smacking his lips. 

“So it’s bland?”

The horror on Gojo’s face is laughable, but Megumi continues, deadpan. 

“No, it’s okay.” 

Gojo sighs in relief, then pouts, “Don’t mess with me like that.” 

“I don’t.” Megumi sets the spoon down, walking back to the dining table to finish setting up. 

The 18:03 on his digital clock flickers, and the rest of the cook continues: he heats up the skillet for the Wagyu—Matsusaka Beef, grade A-5, heavily marbled, meant to be tender and sweet. Some oil is drizzled onto the pan before cloves of chopped garlic are thrown in, followed by the beef, cut into bite-sized pieces. He adds a bit of soy sauce and red wine, to draw out the sweetness (or so he’s read), then finishes it up by plating it. 

And, there really is a different kind of care in cooking, he’s now realizing; how, when he stares at what he’s cooked in the past hour, he’s thought of you through it all—your preferences, the way you make things. How big meals aren’t his forte, but for you, he tries anyway. 

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Megumi asks, adjusting the camellias in the vase one last time. He takes off his hair band and ruffles his hair, hands tucking inside his pockets immediately after. 

Gojo looks up from the spread of food on the kitchen counter, motioning for the boy to come closer, “Taste test everything with me.”

Lined up are a plate of Temaki, a wooden board of Wagyu, a plate of Sunomono, and a bowl of Miso Soup. For every bite he takes, Megumi follows. And honestly? He thinks everything tastes… okay. 

The Temaki bursts with the sweet umaminess of buttery salmon dotted with ikura, the yellow daikon pickles adding a tart balance that complements the salmon well by simultaneously being sweet and salty. The avocado adds extra creaminess, while the cucumber and corn provide a freshness that lifts everything else. For some added decoration, he uses radish sprouts to mimic leaves on the filler plants of bouquets—the main reason he chose to make this: it looks like the bundles of flower arrangements you keep on your desk. What ties everything together though, is the crunchy, crispy texture of the nori, giving contrast to the creaminess it holds inside. 

There’s a reason why Wagyu is so expensive, and it’s being told in the way it melts into his mouth right now, sweet and tender. He paid a pretty penny for this, but it’s worth it because he can’t wait for your reaction. 

The Sunomono is meant to be a palate cleanser—with sesame seeds sprinkled on it, mild and sweet, while wakame seaweed and cucumbers serve as the base ingredients. The sauce is meant to be light, just a mixture of rice vinegar and soy sauce, seasoned to taste—and maybe his is a little lackluster compared to yours, but he swears you have some form of magic when it comes to cooking. 

After each bite, Gojo looks at Megumi for his reaction—but the boy gives nothing away, face blank and devoid of any emotion. None of them are as good as yours, definitely, but for his first shot at this, they aren’t too bad. He’d pat himself on the back for it. 

“They don’t go together.” Megumi regards the entire spread with his chopsticks. 

All his hard work? Shattered. 

Gojo is dumbfounded. 

It’s too late to change everything now. 

Should he just scrap everything and order takeout? 

“But they’re not bad.” Megumi continues, washing his chopsticks by the sink before heading for the bathroom to change out of the house clothes he’d borrowed in lieu of an apron.

When he emerges, long sleeves and joggers, he asks one last time if that’s all he needs to do, taking Gojo’s nods as a sign to take his leave. The older male remains rooted behind his kitchen counter, frozen from the crisis he’s facing.  

. 

You arrive a little later (thankfully), giving Gojo enough time to figure out this whole debacle. He’s ultimately decided to feel around for how the night goes, then he’ll act accordingly—if you show any sign that you aren’t happy, he has the delivery app ready. 

He dresses in simple slacks and a white button down, fiddling with how he’s rolled it up; the thought of you finally seeing everything he’s prepared for tonight makes him nervous—the table set-up, the ambiance, the food.

(He’s even cleaned up his bedroom).

Then he senses it, faint traces of your cursed energy by the door, and he holds his breath. The beeps on his lock count down the seconds to your entrance; and when he sees you come in, surprised and so amazed at the entire thing, the tightness in his chest eases up immensely. 

All he told you was to wear something nice. 

And, by god you did. 

You walk up to him, pretty and smiling in the simple dress you’d opted for tonight—a midi slip-on with a cardigan thrown on top. Black has always looked good on you, uniform or not, ever since up to now. 

But in white, you’re radiant. Glowing. 

He reaches for you. 

The grin on his face is lovesick as he grabs a hold of your waist. You instantly tiptoe up to kiss him, hands on his shoulders as you land a soft peck that transfers a light sheen of lip gloss onto his lips. The view behind him shows the table set-up, a pop of white and red amidst all the food he’s prepared for tonight. 

Your eyes widen, gasping, “Did you make all of that?” 

He nods, pulling away from you as he grins cockingly, “Call me chef.” 

But he immediately bites his lips, restless as he shifts his weight. He hopes you don’t notice how nervous he is—if you weren’t able to tell from his heartbeat, pressed against his chest. 

“You didn’t have to,” you pout at him, eyes watery as you swipe your thumb across his lips, wiping off the residue of your lipgloss. 

“Guess I’ll just undo everything then.” he chuckles, hands sliding to rest on your lower back, fingers tapping against silk. 

You roll your eyes, and before his hands get the chance to grab you lower, you’re whisking him away, holding his hand as you lead him to the dining table.

He pulls out your chair and you sit, the rare gesture making you giggle. As he settles in the seat across you, there’s a disconnect between the expression on his face and his body language—eyebrows wiggling and lips smirking, meant to be lighthearted and teasing, but he won’t stop fidgeting, shifting as he readjusts his seating. 

As you reach for the Temaki, he sucks in a breath, entirely hyper aware of every move you’re making. When you bite into it, he’s waiting. Anticipating. 

Your eyes fall shut as you chew, humming, then you grin. But when you open them and they catch his, it’s like you can tell—what he’s feeling. The furrow on your brows deepens as you look at him, concerned, “Hey, what’re you thinking?” 

How he hopes he hasn’t fucked this up, this dinner. What if the Miso Soup is too bland? Isn’t at all to your liking? What if the Wagyu’s dried out? Isn’t cooked properly? 

If he can’t get this right, this seemingly simple thing, how can he do everything else? Consider you the same way you’ve always considered him? 

He’s so sure of you his heart could burst at it, but what if he can’t ever come to terms with himself? With what he’s able to—

Then he feels it, your hand on his as you reach for him across the table, rubbing the back of it, soothing. 

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s worrying. 

“Megumi said it doesn’t go together,” he stares into your eyes, breathing slowly, grounding. It’s been a while since he’s given you a non-answer, but you accept it, patiently. 

“Megumi was here?” you ask gently, brow arched curiously. 

He nods, “Asked him to help a bit.” 

You hum, looking back at the food on the table before taking his other hand, soothing, “Well, that’s Megumi’s preference. Mine will be different.”

The smile you give him is warm, like the Miso Soup you’re reaching for right now. He watches you take a sip.

“S’good, better than mine.” You hum and he knows you’re lying but it’s still comforting, the fact that you’d do this for him. 

So if this is your effort for him, he isn’t going to waste it.

The rest of the dinner has you making the most exaggerated sounds, your ‘mmm’s and ‘ooo’s emphasizing how good the food is if he still doesn’t believe it. Your reactions are over-the-top and definitely overplayed, but it makes him laugh—has him grinning in his seat the more he relaxes. 

You help clean up, even though he insists that you shouldn’t. 

“It’s our anniversary, Satoru.” you bump his hip, shooing him away from the table as you stack up the dirty plates. 

When he finishes washing the dishes and turns to find you, sitting atop his kitchen counter, nibbling on a piece of strawberry from the special Daifuku he put out for dessert, he approaches you. 

“Don’t be greedy now,” he rests his hand on your knee, coming to stand in between your legs. You hike your dress up a little bit, just to give him some space. 

You chuckle, cupping your hand under his chin as you feed him; he eats the entire thing, half-bitten by you already. And as the tips of your fingers touch his lips, sticky and syrupy from the strawberry coating, he takes them in his mouth, sucking lightly. 

He holds your gaze.  

“Thanks for doing all this,” you blink twice as he releases your fingers, interlacing them with his, “s’not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life.” 

You say it again—how you call him that so casually. 

What do you mean it’s not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life? 

You do it for him all the time.

He hums, moving closer. His other hand rises higher, kneading the flesh of your thighs through the smooth silk of your midi dress. 

“Thought you were going to spit it out for a second there,” he swallows his nerves. 

“Stop,” you frown, grabbing him by his belt loops before pressing your lips against his forehead, landing a loud ‘smack’, “go away silly thoughts.”

He chuckles when you blow a raspberry on it, laughter easing up as you drag your lips down to the center of his brows, tense from all the worrying earlier. 

You always seem to get it right, he thinks, this whole relationship thing—always knowing what to say. 

He tilts his head up, leaning closer to kiss you on the lips, fully. The breath he lets out mingles with yours, sweet with hints of strawberry, and when he catches your bottom lip you lean back, hands coming to rest on his cheeks. 

You nip on his upper lip, playful but lightly, and he groans, hand reaching up to slot itself by your neck. 

It’s there, underneath his fingertips, the pounding of your heartbeat. 

As you squirm on the kitchen counter, you pull away for a moment, restless from the growing heat. The action is subtle but dangerous as your cardigan slips off your shoulder, revealing the strap and lace of your lingerie. 

Blue eyes land on familiar pink, one he’s certain he’s caught you in before, but seeing it now, under white, it does something to his brain—blood rushing, ears ringing. 

He leans closer, grabbing you by the waist as he runs his lips against along your neck, nipping on sensitive skin.

“‘Toru,” you gasp, breathy as you grip his shirt. 

“Tell me what else you want,” he murmurs against your skin, muffled. He sneaks one glance at you, pupils blown, before hovering over your temple, lips barely touching, tickling as he whispers, “anything.” 

Your fingers trail lower, pinching at his shirt before you tug, untucking it from his slacks. You turn to him, finding his lips, sliding them over his as you match his rhythm. It’s careful and slow, the way you unbutton his shirt, but it’s like he said—

This is your way; he’ll follow anything you say.

.

.

.

5 — WHEN ALL I SEE IS ME AND YOU

Gojo never thought he’d make this decision all because of your joint streaming subscription. 

It’s a normal weekend, regular in every way possible—just a night in for the both of you. He usually stays over at the end of the week, but it’s been bleeding into the weekdays too, lately. 

The sound of splashing water against tile echoes along the hallway; you normally play songs when you shower, but he guesses today isn’t that kind of day. 

He plops on the couch, pointing the remote to the TV as he selects the streaming app. Normal weekends consist of movie nights, half actually paying attention to the screen, and half paying attention to other things—either way, it ends in falling asleep. 

When the homepage lights up on the screen, he spots two accounts: yours and his. And it’s joint, under one household—your home. 

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s been thinking about this more lately: how the past months have been a slow realization coming to terms with himself, and where he sees this relationship going, but the visual in front of him sparks an influx of things he’s been noticing. 

The pajama pants he’s wearing now exist as a pair to a matching set he has with you, but tonight, he’s opted for a white t-shirt because his pajama top is tucked somewhere in the drawers of your bedroom. 

(You keep it with you because you like how it fits more, you say, but he thinks it’s because it smells like him, and you sleep with it when he’s away). 

There’s another pair of chopsticks you always wash now, too, plain bamboo with a ring around the handle, light blue. You’d bought it from a market down the street a year ago, and told him it reminded you of him—how it’s his from now on, in the container of utensils by your kitchen sink. 

He’s always known how intertwined your lives are, a decade and more of learning one another is bound to entangle you somehow. But the past few years have caused knots, impossible to unravel—a thought that doesn’t scare him as much as it used to; a thought he now thinks doesn’t sound so bad as long as it’s with you. 

As long as it’s with you. 

The creaking of the bathroom door snaps him back, the soft pads of your footsteps growing louder as it reaches the living room.

“Oh, you haven’t picked a movie yet?” you ask, ruffling your hair with your towel. 

He puts on a smile, facing you as he hands over the remote, “You pick tonight.” 

.

You barely pay attention to the movie, snuggled up against his chest, constantly looking up to kiss his neck. He’s the same, distracted, but not for the same reasons you are. 

It’s a lot to resist, the way your hands creep under his shirt, warm against his stomach, but the sinking feeling in his gut makes it impossible to focus anywhere else. 

“Not the time?” you tap his cheek, and he tilts his chin down, acknowledging you. The look on your face is anything but disappointed, and it tugs at him, makes him feel guilty that he’s making you worry. That he can’t give you what you’re looking for right now. 

“Maybe later,” he takes your hand, lips grazing your fingertips, “I’ll get ready for bed.” 

You nod, sitting up as he taps your hip. He knows you can tell something’s bothering him—it’s impossible to hide anything from you at this point, but this realization feels like a long time coming, like it’s been brewing, now spilling. 

He gets up, kissing the top of your head before walking to the bathroom. 

When he steps in, it still smells like you—the shampoo and bodywash you use. (Technically, it smells like him too—he’s started using yours because it feels like keeping you with him, everywhere he goes). 

As he finishes brushing his teeth, reaching for his towel hooked beside yours, he remembers how none of this existed when it was just you. You only ever had one hook for one towel, how he used to share it with you only to realize that it would never dry in time for the next use.

Then he found it, some time last year, when he walked in to take a shower and saw a hook installed right beside yours, presumably his. 

The lights are adjusted for him too; fluorescent white too bright, a pain for his Six Eyes. You noticed when you caught him washing his face in the dark, so you changed the bulbs to soft white, tinged a bit yellow, warm. 

And the thing is, he never asked you to do any of this. 

You just… did. 

Because that’s you. 

And it’s making him realize even more how he wants to keep it this way, how he wouldn’t mind if this was the rest of his life, everyday.

.

The mood shifts when you both get in bed, and if you notice it, you don’t tell him. Whatever was bothering him before has settled, his head clear, more focused to reciprocate your earlier advances. 

He’s gentle when he touches you, taking the time to love you. Your clothes come off one by one with no haste at all, slowly, almost painfully. 

But he kisses you all over, leaves marks on places only he can see—by your hip, at the center of your chest, and another one, visible, on your neck below your ear. This is more than what he usually does, but he feels determined tonight.

“Off,” you whisper, as you tug at his shirt, pulling it off before throwing it to the side of your bed. 

He holds his breath when your fingers land on his chest, dragging across his collarbones before you tap thrice. This is a spot you’ve loved so intently, he’s become sensitive to it every time you come close. You leave kisses along it, some wet, others dry pecks, but it makes him shudder all the same, every time. 

As he hovers above you, arm bent by your head, his fingers trace your lower lip, tugging only to let it bounce back; he kisses you, noses bumping, softly at first before it turns hungry—lips overlapping, biting. His tongue runs over your lips, smooth and warm. 

There are more touches, more gazes; lips brushing and breaths mixing. The heat between you is shared, intermingling, and when he’s in you—

—it’s too much, how he feels looking at you right now, like you’re everything, the only thing seared into his memory. 

There’s a life he wants to give you, and though he knows there are others who might be more able to—he can’t let go of you, refuses to. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else being this close, doesn’t even want to think about someone else waking up next to you—the bed hair he always looks forward to, the lazy smile against squished cheeks, the hands that always reach for him, first thing. 

These traces of you have made him want the whole of you, and if this is him being selfish, then so be it. 

His arms wrap around your back, hoisting you up as your legs wrap around him, and you’re both moving, timing in sync, and he’s crying. 

He tucks his face into your neck, and he’s sure you feel everything—wet tears, shuddery breaths, but you don’t say anything. You hold him tighter, fingers scratching his undercut as he gets closer and closer. 

Gojo Satoru is a man of impossibilities. 

And this life he thinks you deserve—he wants to be the one to give that to you. 

.

.

.

+1 — WITH MY KNEES ON THE FLOOR, WHEN I ASK FOR MORE

He shouldn’t even be feeling this way, because what’s the worst thing you can say?

It’s just you. 

It’s just you—

And… maybe it’s because it’s you, that the .01% possibility of you even saying no—

—it makes him feel sick. 

He looks back at the clock: 16:30. The walk from the conference room to his office will take an extra 3? 5? minutes. 

The room feels tighter, smaller, floorboards practically worn down from how much he’s paced around it. 

He’s rehearsed what he wants to say, how he’ll grab your hand and look you straight in the eyes as he does it. Fear and excitement churn in his belly, how he’s imagining the look on your face.

If you were here, you’d tell him to breathe—to follow you with every inhale and exhale. 

If you were here, you’d smile at him, lips curled up softly, gently, the one he loves. 

If you were here—

—the door opens, and you step into the room. 

Now that you’re here, he doesn’t know what to say. 

You stand before him in your uniform, smiling, just as he imagined you’d be. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, sparkling, the way he’s noticed they have since you were 17. 

He must be doing a terrible job hiding how he feels because your demeanor instantly shifts, face contorting into worry, brows furrowed and frown forming. You drop your bag as you walk to him, hands reaching to cup his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice hushed and delicate, “Did something happen?” 

Your fingers are warm on his cheeks (or is he too cold?), tilting his head lower so you can look him in the eyes. He can’t breathe, can’t hear you properly; you’re drowned out by the thumping of his heartbeat. 

“Need to tell you something,” he manages to mutter. 

Your eyes widen before you nod, lowering your hands as you speak slowly, “Okay, do you want to sit first? I have water—”

He shakes his head, hand reaching for your wrist, “I think… you should sit.” 

The pause alarms you, your body turning rigid. He has no idea what’s going through your mind, and you give nothing away as you mumble an ‘okay’ while walking to the couch. 

He stays beside you, not too far but still placing a bigger distance than he normally would—for the 0.01% probability that this isn’t what you want, that he isn’t too close, forcing you into an answer you might not want to say. 

The words float in his mind, but none of them string together to form the sentences he wants to tell you. Does he take it from the start? How this whole thing has always terrified him? How he never thought this was meant for him, but here he is, still learning but loving every second of it?

There are things he’s never had to consider before that he cares so much more about now—all because of you, how it’s for you, how he wants to do better by you. 

You call him the love of your life and he hasn’t told you, but you’re that and more for him, too. 

He practiced this, damn it. 

Why can’t he remember a single thing? 

The silence between you is tense, tainted by overthinking on both ends. You look like you’re waiting for bad news, and Gojo’s too stuck in his head, turning over the right words to say instead of reassuring you. 

“I’ve been thinking lately,” he starts, fiddling with his fingers. His feet won’t stop bouncing, knee fidgeting. He’s biting his lips, a tell-tale sign that there’s a lot he isn’t saying.

You place your hand on his knee to calm him down, and he stops bouncing it, looking at you as you muster up a small smile—far from being genuine, but it’s the fact that you’ve mustered it, as if to say: ‘it’s okay, you can tell me; i’ll always want to hear all of it.’ 

He swallows, “This arrangement isn’t working.” 

Your face drops, brows furrowing, “What arrangement?” 

His heart is pounding. 

“I stay over at yours too much.” 

Too much, that mine doesn’t feel like I belong there anymore, he fails to add. 

“I think we need more space.” 

Your hand slides off his knee as you tuck it between your thighs. There’s a frown on your face he can’t seem to figure out, and the fact that you’re giving nothing away, whatever you’re thinking—he’s turning even more nervous right now. 

“Okay,” you finally say, tone flat, “when do you want me to return all your things?”

He tilts his head at you, confused, “What—” 

“Actually, can I…” you shift around, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before clearing your throat, “can I ask if it’s something I did?” 

And his heart drops, straight into his stomach. 

It’s not like that at all. 

He’s hit with déjà vu; this conversation feels so familiar, so similar to one he’s had with you before—on the sofa chair across this couch, laying himself bare the same way he is now. 

The couch dips as he scoots closer to you, reaching for your hands. 

“It’s not—”

You scoff sadly, “Please don’t give me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing,” then your tone drops, blinking away your tears, “if you’re going to break up with me, Satoru, just tell me why. Honestly.” 

He blinks. 

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he once told himself he’ll never tell you. 

But now seems like it’s fitting—the right time to say it. 

“You remember when I was unsealed?” he moves to the floor, getting down on his knees in front of you. You nod as he rubs circles over your knuckles, “When I first saw you, it was pretty scary.” 

He brings one hand to your cheek, catching a tear with his thumb. You pout, the crease between your brows growing deeper. 

“You ran yourself dry because of me.” 

When he thinks about it now, he still feels guilty. 

He believes that people are accountable for their own actions, and he still believes that with you, definitely—but he knows your reasons, why you acted that way, desperate for hope everyday. And for that, he takes responsibility. 

“I didn’t want that for you, still don’t.” 

Your frown deepens, tears welling up even more. 

Do you still think he wants to do this without you? 

He can’t take this, seeing you cry; he promised himself he wouldn’t be the reason behind this anymore.

“I’m not breaking up with you.” he tells you firmly, surely. 

You blink. 

Then your shoulders drop as you breathe out—what he hopes is relief. When your eyes meet, a little less sad, he sees the stars in them, glinting like they do when you look at him.

This should be his answer already, how much you brighten at the thought of staying with him. But—

“I still think you deserve more,” he brings your hands to his lips, brushing them against it, and as you’re about to interject, he chuckles, “but I’m also too selfish to leave that up to someone else, you know?” 

“Soooo,” his hand reaches for his pocket, fishing around until he feels for what he’s looking for. He takes out his phone, swiping and scrolling until he finally stops, placing it on your lap for the both of you to see, “I’ve been thinking lately…” 

He looks up at you, the two skies you’ve always been drawn to, waiting. The unease in his stomach returns, churning. 

It’s a compilation of properties: houses, apartments, plots of land—all scattered around Tokyo, some central and some further on the outskirts. 

Your eyes widen, tilting your head to the side as you attempt to read what’s on his screen. You turn to him immediately, eyes still watery; the expression on your face is unreadable, a mixture of surprise and confusion, like you don’t exactly know what he means. 

“We don’t have to choose from these, it’s just a few brokers I talked to recently. We can look for others if you want, in quieter areas too—” 

Then you smile, beaming, tears falling from your eyes, “Satoru,” and you breathe out his name but it sounds like I love you.

There’s a quiet life he can’t give you, but he likes this one with you much better too. He takes your hands, placing one on his chest, over his heart, and the other on his cheek. Then, he leans into it, kissing the insides of your wrist before staring back at you sincerely. 

His heart is beating wildly, he’s sure, but if he can continue to make you this happy—

“Make a home with me?”

a/n: food descriptions—temaki is easy hand-rolled sushi, sunomono is japanese cucumber salad.

thank you notes: @stellamancer the actual birthday gift for u :') + @em1e for listening to me talk abt the entire plot and even reading the first few scenes!! + @mididoodles @kissxcore @itadorey @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for always being so supportive when am sharing my progress posts ilu + @crysugu @soumies @augustinewrites @ufo-ikawa no reason other than i just love u ᰔ i reply so slow when am writing smth...

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[lyrefromthesea]

Hey idk if my ask was at the end so idk if you still know it.

I would like to request the hashiras x taller/same height reader if that’s ok?

thank you <3

Hashira x reader - Tall for what?

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader, Shinobu x reader, Mitsuri x reader

content warning: none

Tengen: 

• he's READY. he met you and his first reaction was "gods, what?!" without a doubt, he'll walk around you like you're a painting, taking in all your features.

• the moment he's finished his only thought is "flashy!" he will ask what kind of clothes you wear, if you want your demon slayer uniform to look more flashy too. a person like you must be seen!

• more than excited when you meet his wives, watching their eyes go 'o' when they see someone taller than their husband. and you're so nice too! they instantly begin sharing his enthusiasm.

Obanai: 

• used to people being taller than him, it wasn't anything special. what really got him going is that YOU seemed to notice the height difference. 

• are you looking down at him? no, that's not it. do you not take him seriously as a hashira? he was there longer than you, wrong answer. the secret is revealed when you smiled at him one day.

• "you have a really handsome face, i wish my eyes looked like that." great, his brain stopped working. he found a way to leave the conversation in a matter of moments.

• at least he tries talking to you more often now.

Rengoku: 

• "it is my pleasure to meet you!" he's enthusiastic. a new pillar? and your handshake was strong! it didn't take much to engage in a long conversation with him.

• you learn that he's not surprised about your height, but admires you nonetheless. when he said it's a pleasure to meet you, he was serious, he would be happy to engage in more conversations with you.

• really happy when he hears that you're assigned to a mission with him - he was curious to see your breathing style. and it's perfect, it resembles your inner being.

Sanemi: 

• he would've ignored you, it wasn't a shame to be smaller than a person or two. he is smaller than his younger brother anyway. then you talked back and let me tell you, he is STRESSED.

• your little remark quickly turns into a heated conversation. the distance between you two closes, foreheads bumping together. that's the moment he stops. 

• he will never admit it, but your fierce and determined gaze, the fact you're looking down at him. "whatever", pushes you away and leaves without another word. the blush spreading over his face was luckily not seen by anyone.

Giyuu: 

• seeing that you're taller than him, isn't something he really ponders about. you joined the hashira, you are a pillar the other slayers look up to, you are strong. that's everything he needs to know, right? wrong.

• you start talking to him - actually try to hold a conversation - he can't even run away. how come you're taller than him and always manage to sneak right into his personal space?

• but it's okay, he learns that he loves you and you love him. though he must admit, when you pulled him closer once, resting your chin on his shoulder, he felt a shiver run up his body. better not tell you, otherwise it will become a habit.

Gyomei: 

• he's surprised, positively. when a hashira meeting was held and he felt an unfamiliar presence next to him, he became wary, looking to the side. he was expecting to hear a new voice, but he would've assumed it to come from anywhere but above his head. 

• you're just a bit taller than him, but that was more than enough. even reaching his height was a surprise, but being taller? anyone would be flabbergasted. he was certainly glad when you turned out to be a gentle giant in disguise.

• truthfully, you were surprised to find out he was a gentle being too. the young demon slayers always get the creeps when they see two giants walk past them, looking intimidating until the smallest thing coaxes a smile out of them.

Shinobu: 

• she's used to people being taller than her. you weren't necessarily tall, not like Gyomei or Tengen, but you weren't on the small side either. she's glad to be your friend.

• her actual focus on your height was your fault to begin with. she's minding her own business, working in the butterfly mansion, when you come over to help her. she's initially happy, but a vein nearly pops out of her neck when you laugh about having to get the boxes from the top shelf.

• now she relentlessly calls you out using your height when you do something stupid. "maybe the gods should've tried to add more brain than tallness."

"maybe someone's pissed there wasn't enough height for them." you are quick to run away. in an hour or two, she will be calm enough to not poison you.

Mitsuri:

• "wah! the new pillar!" she's in love with you - your looks, your presence, your personality. she's sure that you would instantly catch her eye in a room full of people.

• and then you talk to her and everything seemed great. she truly fell in love with you when you complimented her hair, called her a natural beauty. nobody was surprised when the two of you entered a relationship.

• one of her favorite things is getting picked up by you. she has fun telling you that you're tall and strong and just perfect for her. and of course, you enjoy telling her the same.

[ssinboo]

Say Yes to me

summary: You've been in love with Jeon Wonwoo since forever, and due to your family relations, you had hopes you'd marry him. Your only problem? he's getting engagement to someone else.

or

During his Engagement party, your childhood best friend and love of your life, Jeon Wonwoo, asks you to run away with him.

pairing: 1960s!AU - Childhood bestfriend! Wonwoo x F!Reader

word count: 10k (45~ minute read) – My longest ever!

warnings: unrequited crushes and overall foolishness, idiots in love, best friends to lovers to not lovers to lovers again, some angst?, Wonwoo is such a nerd, making out in dingy motels, unrealistic mileage for gasoline, seokmin being the sweetest

a/n: This will most certainly be my last fic of the year! So, Happy Holidays everyone! This year has been so troublesome, but I've grown so much and written a lot more, too! I'm so, so grateful for everyone I've met and everyone that's enjoyed my stuff! See you in 2024!

Had you been questioned, there would never be a concrete answer to the question of just how long you had been in love with Jeon Wonwoo. 

You’d know him forever, and maybe you loved him all along.

Your families were business partners turned friends. And there had always been talk of marriage between the children. Of course, for convenience. The Jeon’s produced top-class racing and sports cars, while your family were in the chemical business, specialising in industry paints and finishes, it was only natural to unite the two families and profit. 

Although your wealth was vast, it was nothing compared to the Jeon’s, despite always having the chance to frequent the same environments, you often found you were on different levels altogether. 

Jeon Wonwoo was the eldest son, and he carried himself as such — with all the poise and arrogance of the heir to a global conglomerate. He liked golfing and late night swims. Always took his coffee black with no sugar, and barely had anything for breakfast, preferring a hearty lunch instead. 

His younger brother, Lee Seokmin, was the result of an affair with a secretary, though that did not mean he was loved any less, no. Seokmin lacked a single mean bone in his body, he had a pure heart and a contagious laugh.  

They were by all means what people liked to call Irish Twins, born less than a year apart. And the nature of that fact only made their differences more apparent. Complete opposites they were, and that extended to how they treated you, too. 

Every summer growing up, your family would travel to the country house and you and your sister would spend the better part of the months at the club. Oh, how you loved the country club with the fun summer activities the clear chlorinated water, having a meal under the pool umbrellas and getting funny tan lines. 

But most of all, you enjoyed Jeon Wonwoo.

His family frequented the same club and every summer, you’d be practically glued to Wonwoo, even if he didn’t dare to pay you any attention.

You were only three years apart, yet he acted as if you were an immature brat. Seokmin had always been happy to play with you and your sister, though. 

More often than not, Wonwoo would lounge by the pool with a book, never daring to go in. And you would cross your arms over tile by the sides and try your damnedest to strike a conversation with him. He would ignore your every word, or worse, poke fun at your latest obsession. 

“Wonwoo, at what time where you born?” You ask, spitting out any chlorine filled water off your mouth. 

He arches an eyebrow, looking up from his book.

“What?”

“What time were you born?” You repeat, unbothered by his acidic tone.

“Why would I know that?”

“Can’t you ask your mum?” 

He rolls his eyes, “Why do you wanna know?”

“So I can see your birth chart,” You shrug, twirling a wet strand of hair around your finger. 

“The fuck is a birth chart?”

“It’s like… It’s a way to see your personality… And I can check to see if we’re compatible.”

“That’s stupid…” He rolls his eyes, again, “You’re stupid.” 

You scoff, “You won’t play along— You’re such a bore!” You yell out and dive back in the pool, leaving behind a cackling Wonwoo. 

Those hapless summer days were spent lazing by the pool with your sister and Seokmin — without a care in the world, laughing about nothing. With the isolated water-balloon fight every now and then. 

You’d grown up before you could realise it, never truly leaving behind your childish crush on Wonwoo. Even if by the age hierarchy, you had no chance of marrying him — Your sister were to marry Wonwoo and you possibly married Seokmin. 

Though you held hope, it crumbled away with every passing minute. 

But that year, your sister had the greatest early birthday present: She’d found the man she was to marry and best of all, your daddy could never say no to his girls. 

With your sister marrying the love of her life, it meant that you would marry Wonwoo, right? It was only a matter of time and you would be sworn to each other before God, your friends, and family. And your first love would blossom. 

On your 21st birthday, your father took you to work with him for the day, though you most lazed around and answered his calls. You only expected to have lunch for your birthday and a party on the weekend.

At noon, he drove to the Jeon’s factory to deliver the new paint samples. 

The workers, most of whom had watched you, your sister and the Jeon kids grow up, greet you excitedly and some even wish you happy birthday. Your father goes straight to the floor to speak to the manager.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Jeon himself shows up.

Mr. Jeon was a handsome old man a captivating smile, he was incredibly passionate about his work and adored mechanics, but he loved his sons above all — And he had great expectations for his boys. 

He greets you with a warm hug and wishes you a happy birthday before discussing business with your father. To which you busy yourself with staring at the pieces waiting for a coat of paint.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you come with us to the patio?” Your father calls and you oblige, skipping toward the two men.

The patio is where they stored their models waiting to be shipped out to agencies or sometimes, for the higher profile clients, directly to the customer. You look at the new line to be launched next winter: sleek and modern with leather seats and wooden accents on the interior. You could never criticise the Jeon’s for their taste, they knew their stuff. 

“Come here, baby,” Your father waves his hands, “What do you think of this car?” 

You study the convertible in a bright red with a cream leather interior; a classic. 

“It’s gorgeous, daddy, when are they launching it?”

“It should be out next year, but what do you think of the colour?”

“I like it,” You nod enthusiastically.

“That’s great baby, why don’t you read up on this model?” He hands you a tiny card, common in the factory, that has the model and batch number, as well as the signature from the supervisor. But just underneath the model, you see the colour name: your name.

As you look at your father, completely astonished, he just lets out a warm laugh and opens his arms for a hug.

“You named a shade after me?!” You glue yourself to him, still in shock. 

“Happy birthday, princess.” 

“Thank you, daddy, you’re the best!” 

“That’s your dad’s present, how about you open mine, now?” Mr. Jeon interjects, waving a tiny jewelry box in the air. 

You fix your hair and take it from his hand, expecting maybe a ring, or earrings. 

But you find brand new car keys.

Mouth agape, you look at him while your father can only laugh at your surprised expression.

“Why don’t you give it a spin?” Mr. Jeon encourages, rushing you toward the convertible. 

And though your father is beside himself with worry for you driving during rush hour, he settles for sitting in the passenger’s seat and doing some good old backseat driving, even though you barely make it past 30.

You drive around the block and return to the factory before your father has an anxiety attack over your driving. 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Jeon! When did you even do this?! I had no idea!”

“Wonwoo oversaw the whole thing, he’s the one you should thank,” He laughs it off, but your heart can only skip a beat at the mention of your beloved’s name. Especially thinking he was the one to take care of such a great gift.

Wonwoo loved mechanics as much as his dad, sometimes even more. He even went to a good college for it, coming back even smarter than before — and much sassier, too. He never stopped doing manual work in the factory, guaranteeing every car made was up to the Jeon standard.

And you were very biased toward his mechanic abilities, especially when he would furrow his brow, glasses perched on the very tip of his nose; he would wipe off sweat off his forehead with his grease covered arm. 

You remember to this day the last time your father came to discuss swatches and you stopped by the shop. Watching Wonwoo work on an older model with a leaky oil tank. 

He did everything himself, changed the tank perched under the car, soldering a brand new one. He also did a once over on anything else that could become a problem in the future, any filters needing change, checking wires and gears, making sure the oil was fresh. The problem came with the lights. He had such a hard time wiggling his thick arms through the machinery to reach the right spot, and you watched very intently how his triceps flexed, deep green veins bulging under his skin.

Wonwoo had gotten so frustrated he’d shed off the top part of his coveralls, sporting a white undershirt so tight you could basically tell the shape of his sweat-clad torso. Oh, how you’d hoped he never got that bulb in place.

“Come’ere,” Wonwoo calls out without further ado. 

“Why?”

“Need your help,” He mumbles under a sigh.

You rise from the barrel you were sitting on and approach the open hood. “With what?”

“Getting this fuckin’ bulb in place,” He hands you the tiny light bulb.

“Where do I need to put it?”

“See— in between this part, need to shove you hand until you reach back here in the light, then you just screw it in.”

“What if I get stuck?” 

“You won’t, you’re so petite,” He smirks.

You scoff, “Shut up.”

Leaning over the hood, you place your left hand on the chassis to steady yourself and shove your right hand in between gears and machinery, trying to find the spot he mentioned.

“I can’t find it,” You complain.

“Keep trying.”

“I am!”

“Here, deeper—“ He reaches for you, one hand on your waist and another on your arm, forcing you toward the place.

You’re way too focused on finding the damn spot for the light, that you barely notice the proximity at all. 

“Can’t find it!”

“Right, right— My right.”

“It’s the same freakin’ right, you idiot,” You hiss.

He laughs, “Fine, our right,” you groan at his stupid joke, “It should be there, try to bring it closer to you.” 

“Found it!” You squeal with a smile, screwing the bulb in its place. 

“Atta girl,” Wonwoo smiles. 

“There!” With a relieved sigh, you finally free your grease-clad hand from the machinery, slightly cringing at the black covering your fingernails — It’d be such a bother to clean it up. 

When you finally lean back, you stumble onto Wonwoo’s firm chest. Lucky for you, he catches you, steady hold at your waist. You’re finally aware of his proximity, to which he only smiles. 

Looking down at where his warm, tauntingly large hands meet your waist, you’re suddenly filled with nothing but rage. ‘

“You got grease all over my dress!” You whine, looking at the perfectly stamped print of his hand over your brand new summer dress. 

He only laughs, “Looks better this way, trust me.”

“Ugh!” You groan, stomping toward the washing area where they kept clean rugs. 

He closes the hood with a loud thump that echoes through the shop and slides into the driver’s seat. The car comes alive with a loud hum and ta-da! The headlight works. 

You are a little proud of your work, yes. But it’s not like you’ll show it.

“Do you not anything clean in here?!” You complain, eyeing the pile of grease-covered rags thrown in a corner. That had to be a fire hazard.

“What?” Wonwoo shouts over the running engine.

You huff and stomp your way back to the car, throwing open the driver’s door. “I have a formal dinner to go to,” You state, leaning over the door.

“Okay, then go.” 

Rolling your eyes, you hold back any possible insults, “Like this?” You gesture toward your otherwise perfectly fine dress. 

He holds back a little mischievous smile, “I have some clean clothes in the office.”

Wide eyes, mouth hanging agape, you stare at him dumbfound, “I hope that’s a joke, Jeon Wonwoo.” 

He laughs, genuinely. That sweet, deep, dorky laugh of his that reverberates through his chest and plunges straight into your heart. 

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

As much as he did tease you, Wonwoo never made short on his promises. 

“Is he around?” You ask Mr. Jeon, trying your best to suppress any expectations.

“Oh, he had some business… But he wished you a happy birthday.”

Your smile falters before your catch it, forcing the corners of your lips into a beautiful, rehearsed smile. “Let him know I’m grateful. For the wishes and for the amazing present.”

It would soon be Wonwoo’s birthday and you had been preparing for what felt like ages. You got him a really nice set of electric work tools since he complained often about how the shop’s tools were always malfunctioning. But you did feel somewhat bad about only getting him a gift relating to work on what should be a day about him. 

So you caved in and got him a gorgeous wrist watch with classy black leather straps; on the underside you had his name inscribed with a heart. — You actually hadn’t planned for the heart, but the jeweller got confused in between so many orders and it was too close to the date to have it re-done. You hoped you could play it off in a cool manner, maybe he would laugh at your story.

The party would be held the eve of his actual birthday, and you arrived at the venue with hours to spare. Your father and sister are by the entrance, speaking to Mr. Jeon, you greet them.

“Hi, Mr. Jeon! Where should I put the gifts?”

“Oh—“ Surprised, he looks at your father, “You’ve brought gifts—“ He seems… surprised? As if it were so weird to bring presents to a birthday party. “Uh— I’m not sure, let me check with my wife where you could place those.”

You father nervously sips on his champagne, avoiding your sister’s burning looks.

“You haven’t told her,” Your sister turns to your father, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“Tell me what?” You ask.

“Honey… This isn’t Wonwoo’s birthday party…” Your father speaks very slowly, gauging for your reaction at his every word.

Eyebrows raised, you question, “What do you mean?”

“It’s an engagement party, he’s getting engaged to Suzy,” Your sister rips the band-aid off.

And you feel the air being sucked out of your lungs at once, an agonising knot pulls at your throat and your nose stings with the threat of tears. The shopping bags fall from your hands and you fight off the urge to bawl your eyes out. 

Before you actually do cry your eyes out, you rush outside.

“Baby—“ Your father calls but you just storm off, not wanting to be near anyone. 

Engaged? Engaged!

Engaged…

Wonwoo was getting fucking engaged. 

With a bitch named Suzy who had the prettiest hair you’d ever seen and knew how to talk to investors and could speak a thousand languages. And worst of all, she was the kindest, sweetest girl ever. You couldn’t even hate her!

You weren’t even allowed that! As much as you weren’t allowed a simple heads up. How hard was it to tell you beforehand “Hey, the guy you’ve loved your entirely life is getting married to some girl and you just brought lemon pies to his engagement party, thought you’d want to know.”

Maybe you should’ve taken the pies with you, at least you’d have some comfort. 

You know what, what the fuck. Why didn’t Wonwoo tell you anything?! It had been barely a couple of days since you saw each other, why couldn’t he tell you? Were you not even worthy of that? 

Like having known each other your entire lives doesn’t make you worthy of such ”wonderful” news? How hard is it to tell someone in passing that you’re getting engaged! And now, you’re supposed to smile all night and pretend like your guts aren’t festering in rage and melancholy and your blood doesn’t run cold at the mere thought of Wonwoo walking down the aisle.

Giving it a second thought, maybe it wasn’t set in stone yet. 

It’s the modern times and even back in your parents’ days, engagements were broken off all the time! He might not marry Suzy. You might have a chance. 

Maybe you could ask— no, you could plead with your father to tell Mr. Jeon to think it all over. Wonwoo is still young, it’s not time to settle down just yet. He wanted to study abroad, he talked about the automobile industry in Europe with such amaze, and if that took a little longer, maybe Suzy would get tired of waiting?

Who were you fooling? You should’ve seen it coming.

Of course, he wouldn’t have married you, what were you thinking?!

He’s the Jeon’s precious firstborn and you’re… someone who can’t even tell apart the sizing in wrenches —  To top it all off, Suzy was notably great with mechanics. 

You really wish you had those pies with you, it would make your salty tears a little sweeter.

By the time you’re done sobbing in your car, you look a hot mess with runny make-up and swollen eyes. With a sigh, you pull out your purse and muster up any cosmetics that can save you for tonight. 

You could cry all you wanted at home, but right now, you needed to look pretty and have your pictures taken.

By the time you return, the party is to start and guests are gathering at the front, your sister immediately rushes to your side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, soft hands reaching for yours. 

Forcing out a smile, “Of course! Who do you think I am?”

By the look on her face, you know she doesn’t trust your words not one bit, but will not pry at your emotions any further. At least not for tonight, you’re sure tomorrow she will grill you about this. But for now, you put on a bright smile and greet all the guests.

From the Jeon’s, Seokmin is the third to arrive, missing only by the birthday boy himself. But he immediately greets his parents and comes to greet your family.

“Hey!” You smile, putting aside your glass of champagne so you can hug him properly.

“How you doin’?” He asks, gorgeous smile on display. 

“I’m— Well—“

“They’ve told you then—“ 

You press your lipstick coloured lips into a thin line, “Yeah,” You nod.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I’m happy, Suzy is… a—“ Nice words. Nice words. “—wonderful girl.”

Seokmin offers you a sweet smile. “Let’s hope she can handle his tantrums,” he nudges at your arm.

“Oh, please!” You laugh.

Wonwoo was known for sometimes having a bit of a short temper, not often, by any means and maybe that’s what made them so memorable. Like the one time he couldn’t finish a puzzle during game night, so he gathered all the pieces and set the ablaze in the backyard.

“Or—“ A waiter passes by with a tray full of champagne and he so kindly grabs two glasses, offering you one. “Listen to this— He gets to the church, covered in grease from head to toe.” 

You laugh at the thought. Gods, how many times has Wonwoo decided to work on an engine while wearing his most expensive outfit? His mother nearly had a fit every time he would show up dishevelled and smelling like motor oil pretending like nothing’s wrong. 

“Please,” You sip at your drink, “I bet he’s gonna be all greased up tonight.”

Seokmin laughs wholeheartedly. He was the sort of guy to never hold back a fit of giggles no matter how inappropriate it may be, and it was certainly refreshing to know someone genuinely found your company enjoyable.

“For sure, I think her parents will freak out.” 

You nod. 

Tapping at your glass, you hesitate the following words, “Guess we’ll be the ones getting married for the family, then…”

You didn’t hate Seokmin, far from it. You loved him to bits— Not like Wonwoo, of course, you believed you would never love a man like you loved Wonwoo, ever again. 

He was funny, and such a gentleman. Not to mention, handsome, too. If you weren’t hopelessly in love with his brother, he would’ve been the perfect husband of your dreams. But he did deserve better than a wife who could never give him what he deserves. 

“Sorry about that,” Seokmin comforts you and that only makes your nose sting with the threat of more tears.

“Stooop!” You whine in a shaky voice and he’s overcome with worry.

“Hey— What’s wrong—?”

“Don’t be so sweet— I’m emotional tonight—“ You laugh at your emotional state, despite the teary-eyes.

“Are you a crybaby tonight?”

You nod, fanning your eyes in the hope of drying your tears before they can wash away your makeup.

Seokmin smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and you lean against his chest, fighting the urge to cry.

It’s only when you’re certain you won’t bawl your eyes out, that you respond. “It’s not that I hate you, you know I love you, but… You deserve someone that will love you like a husband.” 

He nods, “I know— But it might not be so bad, we’re friends! We’ll have sleepovers every day, and we’ll have Italian every night, we’ll watch those silly movies you like…” Seokmin lists off all the things you would do in your very platonic marriage and it doesn’t sound so bad. 

He knew exactly how you felt, he loved you, of course he did, you were so precious in his eyes, but not like a lover. 

You pull your face away from his chest to look up at him, “Are you gonna let me choose your clothes?” 

Seokmin sighs. You hated his questionable fashion since forever and in only very rare occasions did he accept your input, any other time and he assaulted your spirit with clashing patterns and silly shoes.

“Fine—!” 

You smile brightly, properly comforted. 

Before you can tease him any further, you spot Wonwoo entering the venue. Although he is immediately swarmed with congratulatory words, his shy nature makes it so his only response is always an awkward smile. 

He immediately spots you among the crowd.

You breathe in. In that moment, despite knowing he was sworn to another, that did not stop your heart from fluttering at the sight of him, his broad shoulders and the crooked tie he clearly put on a rush.

“Congrats, bro!” Seokmin is the first one to greet him, not letting go of your shoulder but instead pulling Wonwoo into a semi-hug. 

“Seokmin…” Wonwoo eyes his brother and then you, and then his brother again.

“Congrats, Nonu,” You smile, letting go of Seokmin’s comfort to reach for a hug. 

Wonwoo smiles, letting you cling onto his neck, your citric perfume seeping into his clothes and body. 

Oh, how his warmth could never compare to another. How you craved his affection like no other. 

“Thanks— Uh, did you bring me anything?” He asks in a teasing tone.

“Ey— Nonu!” Seokmin scolds his brother. 

“How did you know I brought you something?” You giggle, pulling away from the hug. 

Wonwoo shrugs. 

You reach for his crooked tie, straightening it to the best of your abilities. “I brought it earlier, but I think your mum took it to the back room,” You explain, focused on the tie.

He, however is focused on your concentrated face, parted red lips and furrowed brows. The proximity that lets him almost feel your chest pressed against his, as if extending the hug. 

“However, you, mister, have to greet your guests!” You scold, setting his tie in place.

Seokmin joins in, once again throwing his arm around your shoulder. “That’s right, mum already gave me an earful about how late you were— And I got here on time!” 

“Yeah— Yeah— You’re right,” Wonwoo nods.

“Liquid courage?” You offer your half-drunk glass of champagne and he downs it in one go.

You and Seokmin goof around a little more and gossip about certain guests behind their backs. Dinner is served and you all sit down to eat, Seokmin insists you sit beside him, which just so happens to also be next to Wonwoo. And you thank him for indulging you one last time.

Wonwoo is mostly quiet, but you were used to him not being rather fond of public parties, especially when all of the attention is on him. On his other side, sits Suzy, the blushing bride-to-be. She tries to make conversation with Wonwoo, though most of it falls flat, he only ever gives her monosyllabic answers and rarely contributes to discussions. 

That is until Mr. and Mrs. Jeon stand up, tapping forks to their glasses to call for everyone’s attention. The room quiets down instantly. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending our little gathering tonight,” Mr Jeon greets the guests. “We have some wonderful news we would like to share with you all.” 

“My beautiful son, how proud I am of you,” He adds, “Every day I am  amazed at your intellect. Often, I question just where did you get those smarts!”

Everyone laughs.

“You have grown into a fine man, and I can’t take credit for any of it. You are the most mature, talented, and intelligent boy and you did it all by yourself— ”

You can watch how Wonwoo’s eyes gloss over with tears. 

“I’m growing old, you know. And every father wants the guarantee that his children will be taken care of… That’s why I’m so relieved and happy to announce that my worries will soon be gone—“ He laughs but his son’s smile falters, “I’d like to announce the engagement of my son, Wonwoo, to this beautiful young lady named Suzanne. Welcome to the family, Suzy.” 

He raises his glass and soon, the room fills with uproar. Everyone claps and you join in, smiling toward Mr. Jeon and Suzy. She stands up, thanking everyone and raising her own glass.

But Wonwoo doesn’t move. 

“Nonu?” You whisper. 

In his ears all that can be heard is muffled screams of joy and the incessant acute ringing. He closes his fists so tight that his blunt nails almost break through skin, he doesn’t look at you, but it’s so clear something is wrong.

You and Seokmin exchange glances. 

Before you can call for him again, he stands up at once, the chair falling behind him with a loud bang that silences the room in an instant. In large and rushed strides, Wonwoo leaves for the patio. 

You stand up and follow him. 

“Wonwoo!” You call out, almost tripping over your party heels. 

He stands in the yard, hand gripping at his gelled hair while the other fights with his tie, pulling at the suffocating fabric until it slides down.

The yard is decorated with a gorgeous fountain, sound of running water somewhat soothing in this moment.

“Nonu, what’s wrong?” You whisper, a hand reaching for his heaving shoulder.

“What wrong?!” He yells back, shoving your hand away, “Did you not fuckin’ hear ‘em?!” 

You step back and his gaze somewhat softens, realising he just pushed you.

“You didn’t know…” You whisper to yourself, epiphany hitting you like a punch to the gut. How could Mr. Jeon do this?! Throw this on him without any previous warning?!

“You— You knew?” His voice is shaky, laced with the sharp sting of betrayal.

“I found it out myself tonight when I got here— I— I thought you knew! I thought you agreed to it!” You argue. 

“How— How can you think I would agree to marry someone—“ His words trail off in the night breeze, never to be finished. 

“Then— What will you do?”

“I don’t know!” 

You bite at your nails, finding a concrete surface to sit on and ponder. 

“I must leave—“ He speaks out, “Run away with me—“

“What?!” you stand up.

“Let’s leave, drive somewhere— Wherever! I can’t stay a moment longer in this place.” 

Oh, what a dilemma it was.

Abandon an engagement party with the groom-to-be, leaving behind furious parents and confused guests. And part of you knew that, despite your family’s closeness and no matter how much your father claimed you were all very close like family, driving off in the middle of the night with a committed man was a blow to any respectable, single, young ladies.

What a dilemma it could’ve been if you weren’t so enamoured with this man you would beck at any given call of his.

“I’ll get my bag and tell your parents you want to stay out here for a couple of minutes,” You announce and he nods.

As you walk back into the venue, all eyes are on you.

“He’s got the wedding jitters, everyone, not to worry. Wonwoo will return after he’s had a bit of fresh air,” You announce with a smile and all guests return to their previous activities.

But Mr. Jeon immediately corners you.

“What is he thinking?!” He half-yells, half-whispers.

“He’s just nervous, it’s a big bit of news…” You lie through your teeth, “I think a little heads up would’ve helped, you know he doesn’t do well with surprises.”

The man sighs, “He wouldn’t ever agree to it. I’ve offered him countless girls to marry and he never accepts any of them.“ Mr. Jeon looks at you and then sighs. “Do me a favour, convince him to come back, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” You nod and head off into the back rooms.

Unbeknown to you, Seokmin is on your trail and he waits until you are in the back lounge, gathering your bags and jacket to close the door and corner you.

“What the hell happened?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion, “You scared me!” You whisper.

“Sorry,” He whispers back.

“He didn’t know!”

“What?!” He says in a normal tone, soon realising just how loud that was. 

“What I said, I think your dad set up a trap… He knows Wonwoo won’t go against his word.”

“Shit. What are we gonna do?”

“He wants to run away,” You announce.

Seokmin looks at you, and then at the purse hanging from your should and the jacket in your hands. 

“And you’re coming with him?”

“I can’t leave him alone, not tonight.”

“And where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” 

“And when are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are coming back, right?”

“I have no idea, Seokmin,” You realise, but the prospect doesn’t scare you as badly.

He scratches at his head. “Leave through the kitchen, I’ll hold off my dad. Make sure to give me a call once you guys are… I don’t know— Just give a call, will you?” 

You nod, pulling him into a hug.

Doing as he instructed, you pass through the kitchen staff and rush through the backdoor, unseen by the guests. Wonwoo is sitting on a concrete bench, his head between his hands.

“Ready?” You call out.

Wonwoo looks up, nodding before he rises to his height. You offer him a comforting smile and reach for his hand. 

Once you get hold of his hand, you bolt across the yard toward the parking lot. He almost stumbles over his lanky legs, but catches up rather fast. You throw your stuff on the backseat and enter your car, Wonwoo decides to jump over the door. 

You laugh at his antics with a shake of your head. 

Once your heels are discarded, you start the engine and drive off, leaving behind that dreaded engagement party. Wonwoo busies himself with shedding his formal wear, throwing his tie on the floor and removing his blazer. 

In any other occasion, this could’ve been such a lovely late-night drive, just the two of you in your beloved car, night breeze caressing your faces with her ice-cold kisses, cruising through deserted roads, barely a soul in sight except for the night owls.

And you might allow yourself to enjoy this moment.

The silence isn’t a bother, no, Wonwoo was always a man of comfortable silences to you, but this once, you’re worried about goes on in that busy mind of his.

“You alright?” You ask, looking away from the road to steal a glance or two at him.

“Yeah,” He replies.

“Truly?”

“No,” He scoffs at his own lie. “But I’ll be.”

You nod. 

You drive out of town and on the interstate roads for ages until Wonwoo finally speaks up. You’re completely engulfed in darkness except for your headlights.

“We should stop soon and have a rest.”

“Okay,” You nod, “Any preferences?”

“Anywhere.” 

And so you tell him to keep his eyes peeled open when a sign on the road says there should be a motel in the next couple KM. It doesn’t take too long before you’re pulling into the parking lot of a roadside motel, much of a far-cry from your expensive hotels and luxury living. 

You check in at the front desk with an old man who seems very unhappy with his life, he short of throws the keys your way. 

The room is… surprisingly nice, given the circumstances of the ambience. Only problem is the, although quite large, singular bed. You exchange glances.

“Shit,” Wonwoo curses, “I’m gonna 

“You wanna get hit?” You joke, “He’s minutes away from killing us over this room. We can just share the bed.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. “I’ll sleep in the tub.”

Oh, he certainly seems to hate the idea of sharing a bed with you, huh.

“Nonu, please, it’s late and we’re both tired. It will be just like when we were kids,” You explain, setting aside your stuff.

Wonwoo nods, sitting on the strangely comfortable bed.

“You think they have robes?” You ask, looking around.

“Wouldn’t bet on it.” 

“Oh, I’d kill to get out of this dress,” You whine, running to the bathroom to check for anything you could wear instead of your dress. 

He just bites at his lips, watching you pace from side to side in that tiny bedroom. 

That’s when you remember your forgotten shopping bags sitting in the trunk! Your compulsive shopping habits just saved you from a very uncomfortable night’s sleep, how convenient!

“I think I have some clothes in my car,” You announce, grabbing the keys and heading toward the door.

“Wait, you’re going by yourself? let me go with you.”

“I don’t wanna lock the door, though,” You whine.

He sighs, “Stay here, I’ll go.” 

You jump, “Thank you, Nonu!”

While Wonwoo rummages through your trunk and pulls out the surprising large amount of shopping bags, you shed off your clothes and head toward the bathroom, dying to get some hot water on your body, put on your new PJs and doze off. 

When he returns however, he is greeted by a sight any other man would die to see. You’ve left a trail of clothes from the bed toward the bathroom door. Starting on your pretty dress, splayed out over tiled-floor, and then your tights and then your underwear, matching, too— 

He clears his throat. “I’m back!” 

But you probably don’t hear him through the running shower, so he just sets down the bags and avoid the sight of your clothes. He decides to turn on the tiny TV and browse through any late night re-runs. You take only a couple of minutes in your shower.

“Nonu?” You ask from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” He turns down the TV.

“Did you find the clothes?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you bring me something to wear?” Wonwoo gulps. 

“Uh— Which one?”

“There should be a light blue bag and a pink one.” 

“Okay—“ He stands up and searches for the aforementioned colours. 

Wonwoo heads to the bathroom door and leans against the wall, facing away from the door. He knocks once. You open the door and shove your arm through, reaching for the bags.

“Thank youu!” 

He returns to the boring TV. Though all he could think about was the sight of your wet supple skin, knowing you were bare with only a thin sheet of plywood separating you. 

You leave the bathroom smelling of cheap soap and fresh into your brand new nightgown. It is tentatively short with an almost see-through round of lace over the hems. In your defence, you weren’t planning on showing this nightgown to anyone anytime soon. 

Sitting on the bed, you look around the room, not noticing how Wonwoo’s eyes don’t really meet yours or how red his ears seem to burn.

“Aren’t you gonna shower?” You ask.

“Feels a bit redundant to shower and get back into my dirty clothes.” 

“I think I might have something for you, if you don’t want to sleep in a suit,” You pry.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“But you can’t judge! I bought this for my dad because you know he deals very poorly with the heat— And he never buys himself anything!” You’re explaining yourself in advance because you remember very well what you bought.

Silky boxer shorts and a tank top, which your father loved to sleep in on stuffy summer nights but you doubted would be Wonwoo’s first choice of wear, ever.

He haggles with his own mind; give into the silky boxer shorts or sleep in the most uncomfortable outfit ever. With a tired sigh, Wonwoo accepts his fate and grabs the bag. 

You smile as he stomps toward the bathroom with a defeated frown.

By the time he returns, you’ve cleaned up your trail of clothes and made yourself very comfortable in the bed. You turn your head to face him.

God, he could make a potato sack look good. 

“How’s the fit?” You pull your eyes away before you look for too long. 

Wonwoo shrugs, “I’ve had worse.”

You laugh.

He coyly joins you in bed, keeping a large gap between your bodies, settling on top of the covers while you’re under their warmth. 

“Ain’t you cold?” You ask, fidgeting with the TV remote. 

Wonwoo shakes his head, leaning back into the headboard. With a pout, you cross the figurative bridge between the two of you and reach for him. He doesn’t shy away from your touch but it visibly confused.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, hands hovering in the air, far away from your exposed back.

“I’m sorry your birthday party sucked,” You murmur against his chest, Wonwoo smiles softly, letting his hands rest on you.

“It didn’t suck in its entirety,” he says, palms slightly tapping at your back, “it was fun running away with you.”

You giggle at his comment, heart fluttering at its meaning, “What are we going to do? About the engagement, I mean…”

“We?” He raises an eyebrow.

You pull away from him.

“Well— You dragged me into this!” You slap at his chest and he lets out a boisterous laugh that almost manages to pull the corners of your from into a smile.

“I know, I’m taking the piss out of you,” He extends his arms, pulling you back to your previous position, resuming the soft caresses he leaves on your arms. “I don’t know— This is the first time I’ve ever gone against my father.”

You sigh. “Don’t you wanna marry Suzy?”

There’s a pause and oh, you’re begging, wishing to hear the words you want most.

“Fuck no!” Wonwoo exclaims and you fail to hide your excitement.

“She is pretty,” You throw the bait, to pry at his true feelings.

“So is your sister, should I just marry any pretty girl?”

You raise from your position, eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. Wonwoo looks at you, completely clueless to his words and its consequences.

“What the hell?!” 

“What?” 

Kicking off the covers in a flurry, you kneel on the bed, staring at him dead in the eyes.  “You have the hots for my sister!”

It’s Wonwoo’s turn to get angry, “What?! No— You’re twisting my words—“

“I’m twisting your words?! You just said you think my sister is pretty!” 

“Because she is!”

You jaw drops, you can’t believe he is doubling down. “Wow,” you shake your head. 

“What’s wrong with saying that?”

You shrug, turning away from him and crossing your arms. “I don’t know, why don’t you just go an marry my sister, then.”

Only then, does this thick-headed man you love so much realise he has been complimenting other girls without so much as telling you a single nice word — the bare minimum. He sighs and offers you a soft smile, shifting in the bed until he is near you again.

“I don’t want to marry your sister. I think she is pretty, but she’s not the prettiest sister, you are.” He waits for your reaction.

Hook, line and sinker. 

You turn around immediately, a hint of smile playing in your pretty lips. 

That’s enough for him to break into a wide smile, opening his arms to welcome you back into his warmth. You crash into his chest, wrapping yourself around his torso. 

He groans, falling back into the mattress but not letting go of you.

Minutes pass before you speak again. “It’s past midnight…” You whisper.

“It’s well past midnight… Why?”

You shift upwards until your faces are only inches apart, breath tickling his lips, your beautiful eyes gleaming under dim motel lighting. “Happy birthday,” You whisper between smiles, “Make a wish.” 

Wonwoo breathes in, eyes scanning your face, “There’s one thing I want…” 

“What is it?” 

If he said it out loud, he might’ve lost all courage to do so. 

So he just does it, Wonwoo leans forward until his lips meet yours in a chaste kiss. 

It probably lasted a couple of seconds, but those seconds felt like a lifetime when you were finally kissing the man you’ve loved for god knows how long. There’s a spark of electricity that burns bright from the moment your lips touch and travels through your body, blood boiling in excitement, shyness, and pure love. 

When the kiss ends, Wonwoo studies your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. Which is even more worrying when you’re standing there, froze solid with an empty stare.

But thankfully, before he can say anything, you throw caution into the wind. 

You pull him into a kiss. Throwing every sense of morale and shame you had out the damn window. He was a man sworn to another, for Pete's sake! But here you here, crashing your lips into his perfect, soft ones. 

Wonwoo lets out a quiet groan, almost inaudible, but you hear it, oh yes, you do. And it runs straight through your chest and down to your core. 

Although the sensible, rational part of your brain tells you to quit kissing him at once and just apologise, the other 99% of your brain, who’s been in love with him since forever, wants nothing of the sort. And you might have listened to the not-so-rational part of you, because you just deepened the kiss, shifting your weight until you’re partially on top of him.

Your lips move against him, shyly exploring this kiss, engraving every moment into your memory. 

Yet he reciprocates. His warm hands finds your waist, holding you flush against his torso, heartbeats thumping completely in-sync. You wrap your arms around his neck and he takes the chance to pull you deeper into those dangerous lips of his. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, licking and twirling against yours, hot and eager. 

He dips his head, one hand reaches to tangle into your hair and manoeuvre you around, allowing himself complete freedom to explore every bit of your mouth. 

Wonwoo kisses like no other. Not that you had too much of a repertoire to compare him to. 

But he consumes your lips with an unbound hunger, nothing similar to the calm and collected Wonwoo you knew, no. He’s hungry, messy, and very clumsy, clashing teeth one too many times, letting saliva drip down your chins and struggling to move with you on top of him.

When you part the kiss, you lay there breathless, gazing into his ridiculously beautiful beady eyes and long eyelashes, his handsome sharp nose and the most kissable lips you’ll ever see.

 It was breathtaking, mind-blowing and nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your heart beats so fast you feel as if you might pass out at any moment but you’d die before you give up experiencing that again.

“What was that?” He whispers and his breath tickle your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Your birthday gift,” You bite at your lower lip. “Did you like it?”

Wonwoo smiles, breathless and half-lidded and your heart damn near bursts. “I did. Did you?”

You nod.

He nods. “Wanna do it again?”

You nod and he gives you that stupidly handsome smile of his.

And once again, you’re attached at the lips. This once, nothing like before, which you though impossible. It’s so much more desperate and it burns, it boils your blood in absolute desire. It leaves you light-headed, it wipes away your cognitive thoughts and leaves behind a foggy cloud of barely strung-together words that only translate into wanting more. More of him. 

You sigh into the kiss and he drinks it all up, he consumes everything you give him with erratic hands and eager tongue. 

Wonwoo leaves your lips and you whine with a breathless sigh of his name, almost chipping at any resolve he had left. But he nips at your neck nonetheless, warm, wet tongue trailing along your skin, making you twitch in his arms with the most delectable little ‘yips’ of surprise. 

He bites, feral and determined; determined to make his claim, to leave behind his mark on your body, to indulge in carnal pleasure without a prospect of tomorrow, letting everything else be a construct beyond these motel walls, away from where you laid. Away from this reality where he had you in his hands and you moaned his name with a soft smile.

Practically tearing your nightgown, he pulls the silky fabric just enough until your tits spill out of its confine. Wonwoo sighs at the sight, fingers trailing the contour of your boobs, raising goosebumps along sensitive skin. His eyes are burning in adoration, the most depraved glaze of hunger hidden behind sheer excitement. 

He dives in, hands kneading at the flesh, squishing soft skin. 

Slender fingers caress your aereolas, running fingernails along your nipples in curiosity, watching you squirm and bite at your lips as your nipples begin to perk up. 

And when you thought he was done, Wonwoo attaches his mouth to your nipple, sloppily running his tongue around it before he sucks. He makes sure to let his teeth graze, just to watch you jump.

All while his other hand makes work of your unattended boob, your attention is so thinly divided between his teasing fingers and his hot tongue and the sweetest, most satisfied groans that erupt from his throat. 

Your face burns and you bite at the back of your hand, shoving down every stubborn moan that tries to make it past; but he won’t have that, no. Wonwoo reaches for your arms, pinning them above your head without so much as pulling away from your tits. 

Mindlessly, you’ve been rocking back and forth against him, chasing a gut feeling you’re unsure of but desire more than anything ever. And without realising, you’ve been teasing him just as much as he has you, which is clear by the volume contained by his shorts. 

He wishes he could ravish your breasts all night, but any more of your squirming and he will come undone without so much as a touch from you. 

Wonwoo pulls away, hands once against finding your waist as he pulls you back to his chest.

“You know what comes next, don’t you?” He whispers against your lips, half-lidded, lust-filled eyes gazing so deep into your own. 

“I— I’ve never done it before,” You confess.

And something stirs within him, to know he is your first, the first and only man to every touch you this way, to trace his lips over your gorgeous body, to settle inside of you. 

Wonwoo smiles and kisses your nose, “I don’t care… But only if you don’t care that I haven’t either.”

You’re surprised, to say the least. 

Kissing in between smiles, you raise to your knees, letting him tug at the hem of shorts just enough to free his cock. 

It’s nothing like you’ve seen before and unlike the illustrations you remember from school. It’s red and veiny and it glistens with pre-cum under the dim lighting.

But it’s a part of him and you can’t help that your belly stirs at the sight of him stroking himself. 

When you reach for the hem of your nightgown, his hands stop you.

“Keep it on—“ He whispers.

“Why?”

“We’ve got all night to take it off,” He runs his tongue through his top teeth with a side smirk and you almost smack him up the head for being such a little shit.

As he asked so kindly, you bunch up your nightgown around your waist, hips circling around his warmth, meanwhile he’s playing with the flesh of your love handles, kneading and running his fingers over your skin. 

“Ready?”

You nod. He raises your hips and lets you control the pace, you feed in his cock, centimetre by centimetre, feeling it’s girth tear at your walls with an unimaginable sting, it burns hot and heavy in your hands.  

Crashing onto his chest, you cry out a pained yelp.

Wonwoo run his fingers over your back, kissing the top of your head, his eyebrows are bunched up, face painted with worry.  “We can stop— Let’s stop—“

“No!” you raise your head and he can see the tiny droplets bundling around your eyelashes, “Just gimme a minute!”

So you sit there, his cock half-in, pulsing angry red and throbbing under the  tease of warmth and tightness. Especially when you look so breathtakingly gorgeous, he gulps, leaning back against the headboard, urging his mind to be strong. 

It takes you minutes to get used to it, to slowly let the size settle until your muscles are well and accustomed to it and then you start it all over again, feeding the remaining inches until he’s bottomed out. 

And oh heavens, how utterly full and hot you felt. Despite the stinging pain, part of you wants to chase the pleasure, clenching in sheer hunger. 

Wonwoo stares up at you, looking for any signs of discomfort but he is met with the most enticing, beautiful, and tempting creature he’s ever laid his eyes upon. Your eyes are glassy with tears, but you’ve got a determined look on your face with a hint of a smirk that sends shivers down his spine and up his cock. 

“Shit,” He curses out with a smile, leaning back and rutting into your hips only to watch your eyebrows furrow and your mouth gape, a moan threatening to escape. “Ready to move, pretty girl?”

You breathe out, “Yeah.”

Steadying yourself against his chest, you raise your hips, feeling his absence leave you upsettingly empty until you let your body crash back down, his cock impaling you with its warmth once again. You rock against him, shallowly, though the motion is unbearably teasing, even for you. 

Wonwoo lets out an obscene, strained moan, fingernails digging into your waist, but you’re too focused on rocking your hips to notice. How he wants nothing but to piston his hips into your pussy like there is no tomorrow, he relishes in the feeling of your warmth, tight and gummy around his throbbing member. 

And he finds you might be just as insatiable as he is, especially when you’ve found yourself a steady pace, bouncing up and down, and his name pours out of your lips in such a beautiful manner. Though he can’t just let you have all the control, can he?

“Oh—“ You yip, “Feels so— Good—“ Still unsure of your thought, you explore the feeling, rolling your hips, feeling him stretch your wider, fill your insides and leave you full like you’ve never felt before. 

His hips meet yours half way, chasing your cunt every time you leave and pounding into you when you come back down, filling the room with guttural groans and the lewd sound of skin against skin. 

You run your fingers under his shirt, feeling bare, warm skin, the softness of his flesh against your hands, the definition of his pecs and the way his nipples peek through the fabric. Wonwoo groans at the way your manicured nails scratch at his chest, gathering momentum as you bounce yourself on top of him. 

He notices you’ve started moving faster, practically fucking yourself stupid on his cock and he would tease you halfway through tomorrow if he didn’t find himself in such a similar predicament. His pupils are blown wide, eyebrows furrowed across his brow, pretty lips hanging agape. You’re so utterly perfect and you were all his. 

“Tell me how you feel, baby,” He whispers, slowing down for a second. 

You sigh, nuzzling against his neck, “So good— I can’t even describe it—“ Your words are so airy and mindless, you’ve been consumed by the pleasure he gives you.

He catches the sight of the white rim that pools around his member, a mix of your juices, but it’s gone, sheathed inside you before he can admire it. There’s a poisoning thought that flashes in his mind, a fleeting, tempting picture. Of planting his seed in your womb, watching your grow full with child, his child. How absolutely breathtaking you would look, round cheeks and gorgeous smile, pretty fingers caressing your bump. And he would taint your taut stomach with his cum, watching it drip over your skin.

Wonwoo bites his lips so hard it breaks skin, throwing his head back, willing his mind somewhere else, anything else lest he come undone right then and there. 

Stomach tingling with indescribable pleasure, you lean forward, moaning incessantly, unable to contain your ecstasy. He supports your body, wrapping strong arms around your torso, firm hands planted on your hips, taking over the moving so you can lay still and let the buzz consume your body with its electric touch.

It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before, and it crashes over your body in a colossal wave, building up from the pit of your stomach; sending tingles rushing through your boiling blood. 

You raise your head, eyes meeting his and it seems he is familiar with this pleasure. His left hand meets your face, caressing your cheek, yet holding you still so he can gaze, he can watch you come undone around him. 

Wonwoo watches, unblinking, how your eyebrows furry, your eyes are glossy with tears that cling to your pretty lashes, your lips sit in an enticing pout. Yet you part them, letting out increasingly louder cries of his name. 

And you clench around him like there is no tomorrow, egging him on. He thrusts up into you, riding out your orgasm and chasing his over the edge. 

He crashes his lips into yours, savouring your hazy kiss, your tired sighs and it doesn’t take long before he’s spurting hot white strings into you, it trickles down him and stains the silk fabric of his boxers. 

Soon, he stills all movement except for heavy breathing and the soothing circles he runs over your exposed back. 

He kisses your hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” You breathe out, “Tired. But good.” 

His chest shakes with a soft chuckle, he runs slender fingers along your hairline, fixing any hairs that cling to sweaty skin. “Me too.” 

“It felt amazing,” You smile, raising your head to face him. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Wonwoo hums. 

“I’m glad it was you, Nonu,” You hid your face against his neck in embarrassment at your own mushy words, but Wonwoo feels their extent, hiding the blush of his cheeks. 

It doesn’t take long before the post-orgasm haze lulls you into sleep. 

And you slept like never before. 

The following morning, Wonwoo wakes up to an empty bed. He panics for a second or two, scrambling to look for your belongings, only to find everything is still there.

Calm, he washes himself up and gets dressed to leave. Finally having a moment to digest the previous night’s events. 

He had made up his mind, he would confront his father. His future was his to decide on. 

Looking for you, Wonwoo reaches the foyer, only to see you leaning against the wall, attached to the payphone. When your eyes meet his, you immediately say your goodbyes, ending the call.

“Who did you call?” Wonwoo crosses his strong arms against his chest and you try to ignore the sight of his muscly forearms peeking from the folded sleeves.

You don’t like his tone. “Seokmin.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why did you call him?”

“I promised I would,” You shrug. 

Wonwoo can’t believe you would call Seokmin out of everyone, especially after you were glued to him last night at the party. “Why him?”

“He’s worried about you, you stupid— Stupid—“ You choke out on any mean names, simply stomping away from him. 

Why was Wonwoo being so mean so early in the morning? You thought after the amazing night you spent together things would change between you.   Stomping your way back to your room, you grumble under your breath.

While you’re folding your clothes, Wonwoo comes back. 

“I’ll talk to my father,” He announces. 

Before you can say anything about that, he continues. “We’ll get married— You and I, I mean— ” He clears his throat, “Will you marry me?”

Like a deer in headlights, you’re frozen, staring at him big-eyed with a dopey smile on your lips. 

“You’ll marry me?” You question, just in case you’ve tricked yourself into hearing the words you’ve wanted most. 

“Yes. And I— I’ll take full responsibility—“

You smile crashes into the ground. “You want to marry me out of… Responsibility?!” The words choke you on their way out. 

Wonwoo furrows his eyebrows, not understanding why you would be upset. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I don’t want to fucking marry you!” Not like that.

His face falls and he assumes a much scarier look on his face. “What would you rather marry Seokmin, then?”

And in your fury, you blurt out “Yes! Yes, I would rather marry him!”

You realise your rejection hurt him, you do. But you’re so blindsided by your anger you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he sees you as a responsibility. 

Wonwoo is suddenly not so angry, but indifferent. You watch his expression go away, replaced by one much scarier, in your opinion; nothing. A plain poker face. 

“Gather your things and go to the car.”

It’s all he says before he leaves the room. 

The ride back is the most nerve-racking hours you’ve ever experienced. Wonwoo is silent, even you huff and puff under your breath, angrily chewing on your breakfast of vending machine snacks. 

Though he says one phrase as you reach the city. “Leave me here.” 

And that’s the last you saw of him for over a month. 

Your previous anger dries up, turning into sadness. Then you’re furious. And heartbroken until you’ve accepted your reality. You’ve ruined your friendship and lost the love of your life.

It takes your sister plucking you out of bed for you to finally leave your bedroom in weeks. 

She was the first and only person you’ve told about the night spent with Wonwoo. Your parents were absolutely furious that you’d do something so dangerous, though relieved at your safety, they weren’t easy on their words. 

“He’s not doing well, you know,” You sister says. 

You humph. 

“I’m serious. Daddy said he’s clumsy, keeps messing up his work. I think you should go and see him.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a worrisome sigh. You still cared way too much to hear those news and not do something about it. 

So you dress up in whatever you can find and drive to his shop, building up a speech on your way there and practising every scenario. You just hoped everything could go back to the way it was. 

He’s working on an old model, hunched over the hood in his light blue coveralls, stains of grease from head to toe. 

“Knock knock,” You announced your presence, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, looking forward to meeting his eyes as much as you dread to. 

Wonwoo immediately recognises your voice, turning around to meet your eyes. 

And he looks just as wrecked as you felt. Deep-set eye bags and a tired gaze. Yet he still smiles just as handsomely. 

“Hey,” He greets. 

“Busy?”

“No! No,” Wonwoo scrambles, placing the wrench down removing his gloves. 

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, I actually— I wanted to talk to you, too.”

It’s somewhat relieving as well at it’s worrying to hear him say that, it could be an apology as well as an insult or something of the sort. 

“We should— We should go to my office, someone might come in—“

“Yeah— We should.” You nod.

You walk into his office, one you’ve visited and killed time in quite often. But coming here after everything feels so crushing, all this distance between you. 

“Go ahead—“

“You first—“

You both say at the same time and that seems to ease the stubborn awkwardness pooling in the air. You laugh. 

“How about we say it together?” 

“On 3?”

“1”

“2”

“3”

Breathing in, you say the words that come to your mind from the bottom of your heart. 

“I want to marry you.”

“I love you.”

“What?!” 

“What?!” Once again, you both say it at the same time.

“You want to marry me?” He breaks into a wide smile.

“And you love me?” The words feel so alien to you, you can barely believe your ears, you feel the tips of your fingers shake in excitement, your heart pounds so strongly against your rib cage you can almost hear the thumping.

Jeon Wonwoo just said he loves you.

“I— Are you sure you want to marry me? You said you didn’t want to!”

“Yes. Well— I’ve loved you since forever! So when you said you wanted to marry me just out of responsibility— I was heartbroken! It’s like you were forced into doing it!”

“I didn’t want to marry you out of responsibility! I’ve been planning to marry you since the beginning—“

You choke, “You what?!”

Wonwoo sighs, “I never wanted to marry your sister and she was well aware of that… We were blessed that she found her husband and when everything went well, I thought— I hoped that it’d mean we’d be the ones to be wed.”

Processing every word, you almost feel dizzy. “But you said you’d take responsibility!” 

“For roping you into running away from my party.” 

“Oh.” You’re beyond embarrassed for assuming and above all, for getting so angry you didn’t even let him explain himself. 

“I should’ve been clearer,” He admits.

“No— I should’ve talked to you.”

Wonwoo smiles. “Thank you.”

With tiny tears threatening to fall, you can only confirm what you want to know the most. 

“You love me?”

“Always,” He smiles.

Wonwoo seems to remember something, he raises his finger in a “wait” motion and leans over his desk, reaching for the top drawer. It’s only when you catch a peek of the velvet box that you almost keel over.

Gulping, he gathers his courage.

In his grease-stained coveralls that smells of expensive cologne and lavender cleaning supplies, Jeon Wonwoo gets down on one knee, nervously looking up at your with his stupidly gorgeous beady eyes and an expectant smile.

“Will you marry me?”

And in your least presentable dress, the one he’d ruined with grease stains and an unruly hairdo, you respond with the biggest smile:

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Had you been questioned, there would be an answer to just how long you will love Jeon Wonwoo.

You’ll love him forever. 

[jungwondazed]

18+ only. jungwon asks if you read smut before.

jungwon had been staring at you a little too much as you both watched the tv together, giving him a few frowns made him only shake his head with a soft smile, raising his eyebrows in innocence.

you ignored his behavior and continued on with the many episodes of the night. he was eyeing you, looking away every time you turned to him and it was beginning to frustrate you because it obviously wasn't a serious enough matter for him to have that certain sly look on his face. he was plotting something and you were growing irritated.

when the final episode ended you stood up to put away your bowl of popcorn and jungwon lightly tugs at your shirt, not saying a thing but motioning you to stay put.

you look all over his face trying to detect anything wrong but he looked way too pleasant if anything.

"i wanted to ask you something" he says, and your heart is immediately racing, a conversation never goes well when it starts this way.

"yeah?"

"how do i say this.." he puts his pointer finger to his chin all cliche like, cuter than you'd like to admit.

"you know before we started seeing each other, you were a fan right?" he continues and you almost laugh because bringing this up so casually was too random, he obviously knows you were a fan before this relationship happened.

""yes... where is this going? don't tell me you can't handle dating someone who was once a huge fan now" you dramatically roll your eyes and he giggles, bringing his hands to hold your arms lovingly.

"no no, not at all, you know i love it." his eyes looking very alluring in this light.

jungwon looks down at the floor, a grin creeping up on his face and you're three seconds away from hitting him with a couch pillow.

"did you ever happen to," he starts, chuckling a bit and looking up at you, turning away and laughing in his shoulder.

"happen to what? wonnie just say it already you've been acting strange all night, just say it" you mutter out while lightly rocking his body back in forth.

"you didn't happen to engage in any, adult content did you?" he asks, eyes directly on you and you can't tell what he's asking.

"what? engage in adult content? like did i watch porn before dating you?"

"no no no, not that, i meant like, when it comes to me. did you, did you you know.." he trails off. hand rubbing the back of his neck as he fights back a genuine laugh.

"i am beyond confused right now jungwon." you're about to get up again because it felt like he was just gonna tease you all night and the sleepiness was taking over.

he pulls you back on top of him this time, his face just inches away with his expression more serious.

"hey, why are you walking away from me?" he brings his thumb to caress your cheek while leaning in to kiss you, to which you pull back from.

"you're just gonna mess with me all night if i don't."

he feels bad, but at the same time he's enjoying your pout a bit too much. bringing his hands to firmly hold you by your lower back, he caresses you everywhere, making you gasp in the sudden transition to intimacy.

"wonnie, what-"

"i just wanted to know if you read any mature writing about me, i know that's a big thing you know" he's turned on, the smirk is less evident and his brows crease faintly.

your face heats up, turning away immediately at such a question because it was the last thing you expected. by adult content he meant smut?? and about him at that? you would never admit to this no matter how much he presses you into it, being a previous fan girl made you self conscious as is.

"hmm? what's your answer to that?" his head tilts, his eyes smiling.

"i don't, i don't know what you're talking about"

his actions still, a long pause before staring into your eyes. was he always this devious?

"ohhh," he's really smirking this time. "ahhh so you don't know that fans often read erotic media about their favorite members is that it? is that what you're saying? like you didn't have a clue this was a thing? based on your response it really seems like you don't know anything about this" and his lips are already tracing themselves over your neck and collar bones. he's turned on, to say the least, and you can't figure out why.

you let him have at you, not knowing what to say to that as he made his point very well. of course you knew what it was, if you hadn't read any you could've been honest and say you just didn't engage in it at all, but you did. and you're caught, and jungwon is gonna have a field day with this one.

he looks up at you through his sharp eyes, eyelids closing slowly as he licks right up your neck to your lower jaw, finally kissing you on your lips.

jungwon spends the whole night begging you to tell him all about the pieces you've read, what he does to the reader in them, the different kinks that people assume he has. you narrate all the ones you can think of, and he mirrors your words by doing exactly the things you read. you start off with mentioning a piece where he likes it really hard, to which he fucks you with great force. you talk about how you always thought he was one for loving head and he argues how he's a giver if anything, working his tongue in your pussy until you cum all over him. jungwon got off on the idea that you had these dirty thoughts before he even knew of your existence, and he promises that he can demonstrate all those fantasies you read in the past, as a reality.

[hannieehaee]

Hi!! Could you do a fic where Jeonghan is being the menace that he is, but his partner is the only one who can quell him with one look pls? Like he is just super soft w her and always listens cos he’s a simp?

content: simp!jeonghan, established relationship, afab reader, slightly suggestive, etc.

wc: 1156

a/n: this was based on that one scene from nana tour in which jeonghan basically waterboarded mingyu for absolutely no reason (ik he was on a mission but he drenched him ?!\>\£). hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

jeonghan was always known to be a bit of a menace by all his friends.

well, maybe even more than just his friends. after all, there was a reason why he was often called the loki of seventeen by many of his fans.

he was simply a bit unconventional in the ways in which he found entertainment, such as the time in which he berated dokyeom into searching for bugs for them to eat on the streets. he simply had a tendency for bugging his members (out of love, of course), becoming an extra obstacle in their lives just for the fun of it.

now, jeonghan also had a heart of gold and far too much love for his brothers to ever actually cause any harm to them. however, after over a decade of knowing his brothers, he had somehow conditioned them to accept his odd behaviors and simply go along with his shenanigans whenever he felt like acting up.

you, as well as his members, always found great entertainment in his weird behaviors. i mean, it takes a great man to be able to cheat his way through every single game without consequence.

despite finding humor in his ways, you would sometimes have a tendency to put a halt to it. a simple whine of 'hannie!' would have him stopping in his tracks and murmuring against your ear as he whined back but relented at you. what you didn't know, however, was that you were the only person who held this power over jeonghan (even his sister would occasionally fall victim to his menacing ways).

today was one of the many instances in which jeonghan grew bored while at practice, deiciding to wreck havoc just for the hell of it. it was easy for him to spot a victim, – it was usually mingyu – which then lead him to approach him with the illest of intentions. there was never much thinking that went into teasing his members. it was just second nature to him by now. so when he eyed the water bottle in mingyu's hand, even the other members who were standing nearby could see what jeonghan's next move would be.

he was patient with it; engaging in conversation as he usually would as to not draw suspicion. jeonghan realized in that moment that maybe his instincive need to bug mingyu for no reason might be something to look into, but that would come some other day. for now, he wanted a quick laugh.

jeonghan saw his opening the moment mingyu uncapped his bottle and brought it to his lips, taking advantage of his calculated proximity to tilt the end of the bottle in order to drench mingyu's face, causing the man to almost choke on the water he'd been drinking.

as expected, this began a mini war between the two boys, as five minutes later they were both attacking each other with any and every water bottle they could find in their vicinity, even going as far as causing collateral damage to a few of the other members. what jeonghan hadnt planned, however, was a sudden visit from you, who had walked in just as jeonghan squirted yet another water bottle directly at mingyu's face.

"jeonghan!", you scolded as soon as you were in earshot, "leave him alone, you got him all drenched!", you were now standing next to the group, frown on your face as you took in the scene.

"baby? what are you doing here? did you–"

"don't 'baby' me. why are you bugging mingyu again? look at him! he's completely wet."

"i got water in my eye!," whined the tall man, taking advantage of your defense for him.

by now, a few of the members nearby were snickering at the swift turn of events, entertained by not just the water fight but the way in which you immediately sided with mingyu rather than your boyfriend.

"i'm wet too! how do you know he didn't start it?", tried jeonghan, knowing full well that the idea was unconvincing.

"hannie, don't lie to me."

"okay, fine. i got bored, okay? it's just water, baby. it's fine. right, mingyu?"

"dude, you fucked up my hair," mingyu didnt seem truly offended, but more so wanting to feed the flames now that he had an opportunity. jeonghan could tell by the slight smirk on his face.

the frown remained on your face, continuing to come in mingyu's defense for some reason unknown to jeonghan.

"jeonghan, apologize to him."

"what?", his wide and incredulous eyes turned to look at you, ignoring the snort he was pretty sure seungkwan had just let out.

"you heard me."

"but–"

"hannie!"

"f– fine," like a petulant child, jeonghan turned to mingyu and gave him a forced smile, "i'm sorry for getting you wet, gyu."

"than–"

"thank you", you interrupted the man.

jeonghan couldnt help but feel scolded by you. it was rare that you actually ever went against his shenanigans, but he did know he could sometimes go a little extra hard on mingyu due to mingyu's disposition to put up with jeonghan with no complaint (usually even fighting back). he was a bit embarrassed by the way in which you sided with him and even berated him in front of his members, but he also knew he could never say no to you, so apologizing just seemed logical to him.

after a few moments of him whining at his members to mind their business and go get their own girlfriends, he dragged you away to a less polluted corner of the practice room to get some one-on-one with you.

"babyyyy," he immediately pouted at you, proceeding to attaching to you like a bear, burying his head into your neck.

"hannie, you're all wet!", you complained despite making no move to push him away, even wrapping your arm around him and running a hand through his damp hair.

"why'd you have to do that? the boys are supposed to think you're obsessed with me," he frowned against your neck.

despite the whine behind his words, you could feel the vibration of his giggles against you and the smile pressed against your neck. as per usual, he was just whining because he could; something which you always found an endearing result to any rare instance in which you'd scold him.

"they're all gonna think im a simp now," he continued.

you giggled at that, causing him to sway you back and forth as he buried himself even deeper against you.

"are you not?", you inquired.

"i am, but they dont need to know that!"

"you're so annoying ..."

"yeah, but you find it fun, don't you?"

"im not at liberty of releasing that information."

he laughed against your neck, reaffirming to himself how much he liked the back and forth between the two of you, even if it meant relenting to you every single time, earning himself the title of simp among his members.

[skiiyoomin]

hello! i’m not sure if you’re taking reqs so if not feel free to skip this! i was wondering if we can get a oneshot of bakugo x reader except reader is a famous jpop idol (or even a global pop star) and bakugo is a pro hero. how the rest plays out can totally be up to you but i thought this would be a unique pairing. :)

ʚCont: pro hero! Bakugou x idol! reader, inspo from the met gala, gn! reader, swearing cause its bakugou

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a/n Hi hi! Yes my reqs are open so feel free to ask as much as you´d like! I looove the idea, its literally one of my fave tropes. It´s a little short but I thought it was a cute way to start a possible relationship between bakugo and reader :>

Bakugou hated attending these events. The constant flashing of camera lights, the stuffiness of his suit, the obnoxious voices of paparazzi begging him to look their way. It was exhausting.

But alas, as one of the top heroes, he had to show his face more often than he´d like to and make small talk with people he could care less about. At least he´d get a few free drinks and food for the night.

As he finished walking down the red carpet and away from the dizzying lights, a figure smaller than his own bumped into him. And Bakugou in his very characteristic fashion, was ready to threat whoever wasn´t watching their step. "Oi, watch where you´re-"

The words died in his throat when his ruby eyes landed on your own. You had to be the most beautiful person he had ever seen. The luxurious fabric of your extravagant clothes complimented your features and sitted on the curves of your body just right. He realizes he was staring more than he should when your silky voice reached his ears.

"I´m so sorry!! It´s just it´s a bit hard to walk in these clothes" You admit with an embarrsed chuckle. He tsks, though there was no real annoyance directed towards you. "Can´t believe they´re making you wear something you can´t even walk in"

You chuckle feeling flattered by the concerns from someone who was so notorious for being abrasive...and devilishly handsome. "Yeah, well, you know, practicality isn´t really on top of their priority list."

To the surprise of the both of you, he holds his arm out. "What table are you assigned in?" God it took everything in him not to sweep you off your feet with the way your doe eyes were marveling up at him. You link your arm around his own. "Table three"

He hums in acknowledgement, though deep down he felt his heart hammering in his chest like a teenage boy. "Good, at least there will be a pretty face sitting with me"

It was embarrassing how quickly heat rose to your cheeks from such a common and simple compliment you heard quite often. Though it felt so different hearing it slip from his tongue. It felt genuine.

The picture you had portrayed of the pro hero Dynamight completely shattered the longer you spent the night engaged in conversation with him. He too, felt any prejudices he may have held against you for being an idol slip away. Conversation rolled easily between you two as if you had been friends for years, and for the first time in a very long time, you both truly enjoyed being there.

Of course, it didn´t make it any less exhausting. The proof being written all over your energy drained face by the time the clock struck 12 PM. Lucky you, Bakugou had a knack for being observant, so it didn´t take long before he realized how fatigued you felt, and truthfully, he wasn´t doing much better than you. He was just better at hiding it.

"Let me drive you home" It wasn´t a question, and it´s not like you had the energy to retaliate. You let him place a warm calloused hand on your waist while he led you to his car. The drive back to your home felt like it went by in a flash, though it must be because you were fast asleep.

His heart clenched when he gazed at your soft features while you were deep in slumber. But alas, the last thing he wanted was to overstep boundaries, so, albeit begrudgingly, he reached out and shook your shoulder.

"Hey, wake up, we´re here"

Your dark lashes fluttered against your cheeks before your eyelids slowly opened. It took you a long moment to gather your surroundings, but once you realized, your lips formed into a small `o´.

Bakugou thought it was a crime to look so adorable, but it´s not like he would ever tell you that. "C´mon, i´ll help you upstairs"

Once again, his hands felt just right against your body when he aided you in walking properly to your home. Everything felt like a fever dream. The way he respectfully removed any excessive fabric of clothing or the way he helped you into your bed in a surprisingly soft manner for someone so rough.

But you realized how real it was when you spotted a little note sticked to your fridge the next morning with beautifully neat handwriting saying:

"Text me xxx-xx-xx-xx"

And if anyone had seen the wide grin that spread across your face, they would have called you a simp. Maybe you were.

[justporo]

The whisky neat and the strawberries sweet

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Let's try again shall we? Tumblr ate this the first time. I listened to "Too Sweet" by Hozier too often and it caused this. What was only supposed to be a drabble turned into a whole thing... I hope you enjoy! With a wonderful gifted artwork by @nathaira-draws (please follow them!)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, blood drinking, vaginal sex, creampie, foodplay, aftercare Wordcount: 4,7k Song: Too Sweet - Hozier

~~~

You didn't really know how you always ended up in positions like this one.

But by all the gods, you for sure didn't mind that you did.

Comfortable. You were comfortable in the way you sat on Astarion's lap, straddling him, clad in nothing but a sheer nightgown. The fabric huddled along your body, leaving very little to the imagination. From the clearly visible stiff peaks of your breasts it flowed down in soft lines to where it cascaded into a bunched up mess around your eagerly and widely spread legs.

Astarion in his usual camp outfit, albeit with his shirt possibly open wider than usual, was much more clothed still. But he surely seemed comfortable too.

And if his promising smirk and playfully raised eyebrow as he looked at you wasn't proof enough? Then maybe the way he was pleasantly, almost achingly hard and pressed directly against your heated, throbbing core between your legs was.

And yet you weren't even primarily engaging In anything overtly lewd, at least this far. The two of you were simply talking. Astarion was having a glass of neat whisky while you were indulging in a bowl of perfectly sweet strawberries.

You talked about every- and anything, whatever came to each of your minds. While Astarion kept sipping on the liquor out of his fancy crystal glass and you popped deliciously sweet fruit into your mouth.

Or, occasionally bucking your hips to get a little rise out of the other - a gasp, a groan, a telltale involuntary twitch - or a bottom lip caught on a fang with crimson eyes shortly rolling back into the skull and then a blissful smile.

The two of you played that little game. Trying to get the better of the other, all while trying to maintain a somewhat civil conversation.

As civil as any conversation could be when your slick cunt was pressed against your vampire’s dick. And you could barely keep yourself from rubbing yourself against him until you would either see stars explode before your eyes - or Astarion would remember he was a predator after all.

Either end was equally titillating in your eyes.

This little back and forth went on until you eventually proverbially poked the vampire a little too hard. You ground yourself against him as he was just answering a question you had asked him a moment ago, about what his favourite places around Baldur’s Gate were. The snap of your hips was so forceful, your by now obscenely slick core rubbed against Astarion’s hardened length in an almost painful way. You made yourself moan from the friction rolling through you, coiling in your stomach.

The vampire groaned loudly, almost a growl and mid-word, head falling back. He grabbed the wooden armrest with the hand not currently holding liquor filled crystal, until his knuckles showed white even through his already pale skin. It was almost a wonder the wood didn’t crack.

His length throbbed violently. Your clit eagerly echoed it.

You bit your lip as you focused on the feeling, a lewd, wishful sigh left you. The tension was oh so delicious.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Astarion almost hissed at you, a bit breathless. His head had snapped back, staring at you from deep under his drawn together brows.  “Because if you are, you are not being very subtle about it, love.”

His tone was slightly angry and a little high-pitched. He was immediately trying to walk it off but you had obviously irked him. But he was merely teasing you. You saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched unwillingly as he took another swig of whisky. And if his attempts at deflections wouldn’t have told you the truth, something else you clearly felt yearning for more of that friction, would have surely done the trick.

You grinned at him with fiendish delight as Astarion tried to somewhat awkwardly rearrange himself in his seat. But with you pressing yourself against him he hadn’t really any room to wriggle.

His ruby eyes narrowed at you as your grin grew broader. Oh, how you enjoyed being on top of things for once - quite literally so.

“Also it is very rude to interrupt someone like thi-” Astarion tried to utter in an offended tone. But interrupted himself once more with a groan when you rolled your hips against him once more. Even more forceful than before.

Astarion’s moan almost became a whimper this time. Long slender fingers darted over and now gripped onto your naked thigh. Not pulling you closer - for now - but also definitely not pushing you off. Astarion’s cock helplessly and desperately jerked from the friction where it was nestled between your legs.

It was a piece of work to keep yourself from huffing and moaning as you were continuously trying to push Astarion into the deep end without being dragged under as well.

The vampire’s head lolled back again for a moment. Then it rolled back around, his expression a challenge now. The vampire licked over his lips lasciviously: eyes glittering like garnets and fangs shining like ivory as he observed you. Precious in any kind of way.

Playtime was over now. Time to face the consequences.

“You vicious little vixen,” Astarion whispered, fingers digging into your flesh until the twinge of it had you throw your head back this time and gasp. The way your back thereby arched drew your vampire’s attention to the way your breasts were now perfectly presented to him. To either behold them like a connoisseur would an impactful piece of art or to devour them like a doomed man would his last meal.

The pale elf’s equally pale eyebrow twitched - as did your clit still drawing pleasure from his fingertips almost clawing into your thigh. If only… a little more…

Quick flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue over the sensitive buds at the crest of your breasts made either of them perk up even more. Until your nightgown was dangling off them even more, creating soft lines draping down, surely drawing the observer’s eye to them and your now heaving breasts, heavy from lust.

Your hands immediately went to cup Astarion’s head, cradling it as his tongue swirled around the tip of your tits, not even bothered by the thin fabric between you and him. The way your hips started moving came naturally. Just like how you bowed your back even more for your lover. You closed your eyes, easily getting lost in the sensation.

Then, suddenly, sharp teeth dug into your breast, lips shortly closing down around the hardened nipple.

“Oww,” you yelped and immediately resorted to slapping Astarion’s arm in response, pushing him away. Your head snapped back to stare at him.

The vampire just laughed haughtily as he withdrew again, leaning back. He licked just a drop of blood of his lips as he did so.

When you looked down your own body you saw twin pricks that had pierced through the translucent fabric. And beneath it a tiny trickle of blood running down your chest.

In your moment of inattentiveness Astarion had shifted slightly in his seat: now sitting with his legs spread even further, the bulge between them so painfully obvious and palpable for either of you. He was leaning back, arms draped over the backrest. In one hand he was still holding the whisky glass and idly swirling it around while holding it by its rim.

By default your legs were also spread even further now, making it hard to move. And suddenly you were the one feeling a little caught. Good for you, you had found quite the pleasure in being caught by the vampire time and again.

Although that certainly didn’t stop you from leaning forward as much as possible and catching the pale elf’s chin between your fingers, trying to stare him down.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to bite someone without asking?”

Astarion pouted. “Can you really blame me for not being able to resist, darling? It was… low hanging fruit after all,” he mused with a grin.

Your eyes narrowed - considering if you should be insulted by that or not.

Astarion eyed the lonely drop of blood he left behind slowly rounding the curve of your boobs. He angled his head observing its journey. A single strand of white hair fell into the vampire’s face as he was entranced - by your tits and the trickle of your fine red alike. 

Lost in thought and the view he lifted the crystal to his lips again. As if unconsciously trying to substitute for what he obviously craved much more than liquor right this moment.

The whisky would have to do.

But before he could take a sip, your fingers wrapped around his and wrung the glass out of them. Inattentiveness really made either of you prone to be taken advantage of. But not to either of your damage.

Before Astarion could protest you took a generous swig of his liquor and slightly shuddered as it burned down your throat. You licked your lips with a grin as you felt the burn leave behind a delicious warmth.

The pale elf’s mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows jumping up. His eyes darkened and twinkled at you as if asking you how you even dared and simultaneously promising you he’d get you back for that one - in that kind of way that would leave you desperately begging for more.

It made your lower body clench as another kind of heat washed through your body. Adding to the throbbing sensation between your legs, lashing it on.

And yet the most you had done was sit there.

Closing your eyes, you tried to regain just a fraction of composure. You had been doing so good in your little game of teasing. How did this godsdamned vampire hold that much power over you that he almost broke you with barely more than a glance?

Astarion in the meantime smiled in content as he took note of how you had to consciously concentrate to keep your wits about you. And also he had located the rest of your strawberries still sitting in the bowl on a small table next to the chair you were both wrapped up on.

Your head snapped back as you felt the vampire’s weight slightly shift below you. With his roguishly quick reflexes you only just saw how your lover had started chewing something. Then he was popping another strawberry into his mouth. And another-

“Hey,” you wailed at him as your eyes darted to the little bowl that was now almost yawningly empty. “Hey stop, that’s the last one!” you continued, grabbing for Astarion’s wrist with your free hand as he was about to devour the last piece of your sweet treat.

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

His hands wandered to either of your thighs, pushing into them and pulling you closer to him at the same time, spreading your legs even more for him. With your hand not holding the crystal glass you grabbed for his shoulder to try and keep your balance.

Lightning jolts shot through your body at the sight of your lover. Finding their target in between your legs. Making you involuntarily rub yourself against Astarion’s hard dick again, still comfortably pressed there. Trying to keep the electric energy going. Hoping to turn it into a constant current.

Heat was pooling everywhere in your body now at the promise Astarion’s eyes made you.

He didn’t need to be able to speak to lure you to him. Astarion leaned in a little closer, the delicate lines around his mouth deepening when his smile grew predatory. And you leaned to him, your cheeks and whole body flushed, keen to accept what he offered: the lamb willingly falling for the wolf.

But then an idea flashed through you. Acting quickly, so you wouldn’t second guess yourself, you took a small sip of whisky, keeping it in your mouth.

The vampire’s eyes sparked at you, immediately catching onto your plan. A small strained gasp worked its way around the strawberry still in between his teeth to get past his lips. The fangs dug into the flesh of the fruit ever so slightly at the strained sound. And at your core you felt his dick twitch once more.

You were both in for a treat.

With a chuckle and the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one holding power you leaned in to kiss your vampire. You slowly wrapped your mouth around the strawberry, lips brushing Astarion’s like a feather in passing - all while your gaze burned into his.

The fruit was crushed between your mouths in an instance. Its red, wet juice ran over both your chins, leaving trails that almost looked like freshly spilled blood. The flesh of the sweet treat was quickly torn and devoured between pointy fangs and more sharp teeth as your mouths worked impatiently to get around it. To get to each other - to the real treat.

The whisky had immediately spilled over your lips, down your chin. Only a few drops had actually made it to Astarion’s lips. But it was enough. The rest he could easily taste directly on your lips and tongue, in your mouth. His tongue made sure to get every last bit of it as it slipped between your lips.

The vampire tensed beneath you, his length somehow hardening more, as you melted into him while kissing him; moulding yourself to him as you slowly felt yourself get lost.

Tart sweetness mixed with smoky burning as did tongues and teeth. Remains of strawberry and whisky were already staining your faces and throats, even clothes.

One of Astarion’s hands moved from your legs to the nape of your neck as your mouths moved against each other. He pulled you closer, trying to taste more of you as you let it happen with a yearning moan.

His other hand moved to yours still clenching the crystal glass in its fingers and swiftly took it away, placing it down to free you from it. And when you were, your hands immediately grabbed the vampire’s face. You let your fingertips stroke along his pointy ears, wandering into his curls, deepening the kiss even more. Closing your eyes as Astarion’s rolled into the back of his head.

His other hand sneakily went to your ass and with a gentle push made you grind against him once more. And then again, until you took up the rhythm on your own. All while you kept kissing, now exchanging moans, gasps and other lewd sounds spilling from your lips. Passing them back and forth between you.

And when only traces of strawberry and whisky remained on your tongues, you broke away from each other. You were both panting and worked up to the point where it had become almost painful.

You stared into each other’s eyes that were void of anything playful now. The need in them was real.

Your hands cradled your lover’s face as his gaze was almost glassed over - from lust. Different from other times where his eyes had betrayed to you that he was a thousand planes of existence away.

But now he was here with you, almost violently so. The only thing Astarion was dreaming of was you and how your body seemed made to be squeezed against his. And the electricity between you was so strong you knew lightning would inevitably strike both of you.

The fruit had left Astarion messy, red stains smeared all around his chin and throat. You were used to the sight by now although it usually were less tame things than strawberry that left him in disarray. And as the yearning inside you reached a boiling point you felt the urgent desire to offer your vampire the real thing. Turning him into a whole mess in the process - in every kind of way possible.

You bowed down to him, seeing his eyes sharpen at you closing in. And nothing but a hair breadth away from his lips you stilled, reining in your boundless desire for Astarion.

“I need you, Astarion,” you whispered to him, your quivering lips brushing his as you spoke. Your breath caressed his face making his eyes lose focus as they rolled widly once more at your confession and your closeness alike. “And I want you.”

“Incidentally,” he murmured, voice raspy and promising, reminiscent of strawberries mixed with whisky, “I want you too, my heart.” His hands on your behind, fingers spread wide, squeezed hard. “And I need you even more.”

And so you let the reins slip from your hands. Your lips crushed with his again as four hands were busy to grab hold and get rid of what was still in the way.

Astarion fumbled with your already ruined nightgown. Trying to pull it up but getting distracted by how soft your skin felt along his fingertips or how your curves shifted lazily with the roll of your hips or how your fingers felt beneath the hem of his shirt.

After a few unsuccessful tries his already short tempered patience got the better of him. He just clawed at the damned fabric and tore it apart, tossed it away with a growl, breaking your passionate kiss shortly.

His short-circuit action shortly took your breath away as you felt the garment ripped off your body.

You stared at him, now fully bared before him. Crimson predator eyes took you in and couldn’t stay harsh at your softness. The moment drew out as he lovingly gazed upon you and you used it to let your hand flutter to the top of your breasts then along the curves of them, drawing a line with your fingertips. Astarion watched carefully, an almost unwilling gasp escaping him.

Then another roll of your hips, rubbing yourself against him with a moan. You threw your back into an arch, repeating the motion more vigorously, grinding yourself against Astarion’s still fully clothed but not less needy body. His pants were already a mess, you knew, caused by your slickness and his yearning cock alike.

Astarion kept eagerly staring at you as you worked yourself against him. His long fingers wandered over creamy soft thighs, wrapped almost fully around your delicate waist and then up your sides, sliding over your back as you threw yourself into them. You were melting for him while you felt the tension inside you grow. And your lover kept observing you, how your body moved like light waves hitting a sunbathed beach. His lips curled up further into a sinful grin as he felt you come closer to the peak: the shift of your hips becoming more ragged, your breaths heavy and raw.

Meanwhile your hands toyed with the hem of his already wide open shirt, tugging on the strings, wandering beneath the hem, caressing his chest as he had become almost a statue beneath you. But his stillness only betrayed that tension within him grew as well.

But then you wanted more. Without halting the movements of your body against his you urged him to draw his shirt over his head. And when he enthusiastically obliged you immediately thanked him by pressing your soft, warm tits against him.

Astarion couldn’t remain still anymore. Eyes glossed over again as he delighted in your body dragging against his naked, smooth skin now. Your hands were in his hair. And as if you weren’t already treating him enough you let your head loll back and dragged the vampire’s already parted lips to where they could immediately pick up the rhythm of your racing heart.

His fangs pressed cooly against your skin making you shudder from the sensation. Gasps filled the air. You felt Astarion’s lips press a kiss to your exposed throat. And a moment later the sharp pain of his fangs breaking your skin made left you breathless and made claw your hands into his curls.

He drank from you and you stilled. You needed to feel how with every swallow he took of you, his dick moved in unison.

And it made you both yearn to finally feel it in an even more intimate way.

Your fingers moved to unlace Astarion’s pants, making quick work of it. The sensation of his erection being freed and immediately being caressed by your deft hands made the vampire quiver. His focus was shortly broken and you felt some hot blood run down your throat. But who could blame him when you began stroking his aching cock like this. You saw how wetly his length was already glistening and felt how generous amounts of precum spread all over it beneath your hands. He really did need you.

Astarion groaned as he tried to pull himself together, licking up the spilled blood. But two different beasts were battling within him right this moment, each eager to get their fill. And both needed to be sated.

“Darling,” Astarion murmured against your throat, “you’re killing me for good.” His hands were on your ass now, squeezing it with spread fingers and urging you to move up on him.

You kept working his cock harder and you pressed yourself up on his lap slightly, obeying his silent plea.

“Good,” you replied, catching his eyes for a moment as his lips still remained lightly on your throat. “I hope it’s a pleasant way to go.”

And Astarion groaned, confirming it.

With your fingers still wrapped around his length you positioned him against your obscenely wet core. You moved your hips, making his head drag along your hot, slick folds, but not allowing him to enter you just yet.

You did it once, twice, feeling your clit and his cock in your hands throb each time. Then Astarion had enough of you teasing him. With his hands firmly holding onto your ass he pushed you down on him until he was buried inside of you to the hilt.

He began fucking you while you still tried to get used to the sensation.

Astarion started a relentless rhythm, aiding you riding him by dragging up your hips and letting them slam into him with his hands digging into your ass. All while he thrust up into you, hitting deep every single time. He praised you, whipping you on with words almost as sweet as strawberries. And the burning warmth inside you was even greater and more deliciously numbing than a sip of neat whisky.

Oh, this wouldn’t take long. The long, lascivious build-up had made sure of that.

You felt the waves grow higher while your moans grew increasingly unhinged. Already you were bracing yourself to be dragged under as you felt Astarion’s sweet nothings dissolve into senseless groans of pleasure.

But then suddenly, you felt Astarion’s hot mouth wrap around your hard nipple again - the one he had teased before. While your orgasm was already on the horizon and rushing towards you quickly, you felt another sting of pain as the vampire’s fangs broke the sensitive skin of your breast a second time.

In the meantime, a hand had wandered up your back and you felt how Astarion wrapped strands of your hair around his fingers before starting to tug on them.

He began eagerly sucking on your boob, striving to get more of the aphrodisiac that was your blood. Meanwhile his skilled tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, swirling around it.

He kept pulling on your hair, having you bow back while riding him and Astarion kept drinking from you.

The continuous jolts this sensation sent through your already helplessly writhing body pushed you even beyond what you had expected.

With Astarion’s mouth closed around your tit and his dick hitting you particularly hard and deep you dissipated fully in his hands. The vampire pushed you far further over the edge than you'd ever thought possible.

As if drifting out of your body for a while as your orgasm shook through you violently, your core clenched around the vampire buried as deep inside of you as anyone ever was.

With an obscenely wet sound he had to let go of your nipple as Astarion came just as forcefully, balls tightening before he spilled inside of you. Your bodies worked eagerly - clenching, jerking, giving, taking - to make the most out of it.

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths as you both rode out the waves of your orgasm.

After, you collapsed on Astarion's lap who held you so carefully as if suddenly he felt you'd shatter under his touch. Your arms felt weak now as you wrapped them around your vampire, your legs started to tremble from the almost impossible tension they had endured before.

Your lover only carefully moved you to withdraw from you as he softened. He kept showering you with small kisses and soft reassuring mumbles while he gave you all the time you needed to safely come down from your high.

It took a long while until you were sure you were fully inside yourself again.

“I love you, Astarion,” was the sole thing you trusted your voice to utter because Astarion kept uttering sweet nothings into your ear. His hands were rubbing a comforting rhythm over your back, your chests pressed together, sticky from sweat. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulders, eyes closed.

The vampire softly laughed and patted your back: “I love you too, Tav.”

“Come on, darling, let’s get you cleaned up and into something warm,” he whispered after a few more heartbeats of comfortable, exhausted silence into your ear.

You lifted your head slowly from his shoulder, took one look at how blood was practically smeared all over Astarion’s face and only snorted. But the vampire took it only with another chuckle and began to rise with you in his arms.

He carefully sat you down on the nearby bed, quickly grabbed a cloth and warm water and cleaned you softly. Astarion took special care of where he’d bitten you, spending extra time cleaning the small bite wounds - pressing a kiss on them after.

Slowly you began talking again while Astarion took care of you and you regained your wits but felt exhaustion and blood loss catch up with you.

Astarion continued to carefully pamper you, washing every part of your body with the cloth, almost massaging you. Then quickly cleaning himself up while you were taken over by a big yawn. You were ready to sink back onto the bed and be wrapped up in your lover’s arms as you would slip into your dreams.

“You owe me a new nightgown, Astarion,” you uttered between yawns trying to stay upright - at least until your vampire was finished with the aftermath of your little evening adventure.

The vampire pointedly lifted an eyebrow at you: “But why wear a nightgown if you could just sleep naked?”

You had no power anymore to argue. So you used your remaining energy to stare angrily at your vampire until he stood up with a smirk and returned with his discarded shirt in hand.

“Alright, my dear, I’ll get you a new one,” he promised with a wink. “But for now this will have to do, I fear. I hope you can overlook it was previously owned by me, darling,” Astarion mused and handed you the shirt which you quickly threw over your head. It smelled of his usual scent: rosemary, bergamot - and whisky. Your eyes darted to where the crystal glass with the rest of Astarion’s drink had been forgotten and smiled. Then you drew a deep breath in, closing your eyes. With this you could do.

You clambered further onto the bed then, making yourself cosy as Astarion undressed to climb into bed with you

“You also owe me some strawberries,” you continued as you stretched out your arms towards your lover who you felt was taking too long to join you.

Astarion snorted as he climbed towards you and wrapped you into his arms.

“You’re awfully demanding, darling, you know that? What about my wasted drink?” he replied with a smirk in his voice as you had already closed your eyes, feeling his comforting presence wrapped around you.

“Hm yes, you can get yourself new whisky too,” you mumbled and were already drifting off to sleep.

“Alright then, my sweet,” Astarion answered as he heard your breath deepen already. “A nightgown, whisky, strawberries and whatever else your heart desires, my darling Tav.”

~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause

[untoldstar]

yandere boss when you find another job

warning: fem reader, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, abuse of power

At first, he notices a change in your demeanor, you do as you're told but you don't engage with him as much as you used to, the conversations you two had felt quite..personal to him, you two would talk in his office where no one would overhear or interfere, you even had inside jokes that only you two would understand, it felt special to him, so when conversations with you wouldn't go past five sentences alarms started going off in his head, did he say something to upset you? has one of your co-workers been bothering you? just tell him he can take care of it in the blink of an eye! it's not like it would be the first time he's done that for you. Perhaps your workload has been too exhausting? he'll happily give you a vacation if it means you'll treat him how you used to

This man reflects for a whole day to make he didn't upset you in any way, he gives you simple errands and prolongs your breaks but that only seems to spark even more of an unpleasant emotion in you, he replays all the security cameras in the office to see if someone has been harassing you which doesn't turn out to be the case but it does lead him to notice you being on the phone more often than usual and his mind immediately goes south, has she gotten a boyfriend? when? how have I not noticed this..

He backtracks all your calls to find out who you've been talking with so he can deal with them properly but he finds that most of your calls have been with another company..what would you need from another company? a job application? you were planning on leaving him?!

He becomes so paranoid, he goes to every length possible, he makes everyone in the office guilt trip you into staying with comments on how work would suck if you weren't there, how they would have a crisis every week if you weren't there to handle it quickly and swiftly every time, just what would they do without you?

He almost goes as far as giving you a bad reputation in the company you were planning on applying to when it finally happened..

You walking into his office with the most serious face you've had since he hired you, he listens to you utter the words "I'm resigning" from your beautiful soft lips and the rest is turning into muffled mumbles in his brain because the only thing he's thinking of is locking you both in his office forever where he can keep his eye on you, where you can't run away from him.

You finish the speech you so clearly prepared and exhaled while looking at him expectantly, guilt written all over your face, he doesn't say anything for a few seconds, the silence filling up his spacious office until it's broken with a deep chuckle, your shoulders slump down, that definitely wasn't the reaction you were expecting, he rises from his chair and starts to make his way around the desk to where your standing, the sound of his hitting the floor with every step only makes you more nervous "what could you possibly want from another company love? everything you need is right here!" you shift your weight to step back "I..well I already told you why-" he steps closer invading your space "ah yes you mentioned it but that's simply not good enough, see, all the reasons you've mentioned I can take care of I still fail to see why you would go searching for that somewhere else, could it be me you're escaping?" you're eyes blow wide "no! of course not..look, sir, I'm sorry but even though I know you're fully capable of providing me with what I'm searching for but I've already decided..working with you has been-" you jolt as he slams his hand on the desk trapping you against it, his head hangs low for a second before he lifts it and your heart skips a beat at the look in his eyes, you've never seen him look at you that way the entire time you've worked here " ah..your behavior over the past two weeks makes sense now, you were too guilty to act the way you usually do because you knew it was special too! and you just couldn't bring yourself to do that when you were planning on leaving..oh you sweet little thing, it must have been so hard to act so cold towards someone so special to you but alas, your efforts are in vain because you're not going anywhere my love.."