#had to share these gorgeous shots

[icbmil]

tinyraindropphotography: Part 1 of @/the1975 at Finsbury Park

[lambnotincluded]

Knocked Loose — Deep in the Willow

[lokissweater]

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

[writingouthere]

bestfriendsbrother!Sukuna x pregnant!reader one-shot

summary: you're excited to finally share with all your friends that your pregnant when the party is interrupted by your best friend's older brother, who you didn't invite, but who you did have unprotected sex with less than two months ago.

cw: reader is pregnant, Sukuna is a bad dude, possessive behavior, minor smut, still as usual nicer than it sounds because I can't help it.

**************

"I'm pregnant!"

Your news is met with a period of silence before your friends look at each other, uncertain as to how to react.

Nobara finally breaks the silence, an eyebrow raised. "And we feel...."

"We're happy about it," you say and your friends are then quick to congratulate you. You hear some sort of scuffling happening behind you and you turn around to see Yuuji unfolding a "We're having a Baby!" banner which makes Megumi nearly jump out of his chair.

"Holy shit, did you two-"

"No!"

"Ew, no!"

Yuuji frowns at you. "The 'ew' wasn't necessary."

You and Nobara scoff. "It was," you tell him. "And I say that with all my love."

"Okay, so if this idiot didn't knock you up-"

"Hey!"

"-then who did?"

You'd been expecting the question and had prepared for it. "It was just a one night stand, he's not really father material." Everyone looks like they want to ask more questions so you smile at them, genuinely happy they all look ready to commit a crime for you. "It's okay, I have a good job and this is something I've wanted for a long time. This baby will be really loved because it will have me and, I hope, all of you."

Your friends are quick to agree and there's some lighter questions about potential names, nurseries and Nobara and Todo are looking at her phone debating baby onesies, when the door to you and Yuuji's apartment opens and someone you had definitely not invited comes in.

"Sukuna! You're late, you missed the big news," Yuuji calls out as he walks over and claps his brother on the back. A few people call out greetings as Yuuji's older brother looks around the apartment. His eyes linger on you for a second, a smirk tugging up on his lip before he notices the sign hanging crooked over the kitchen doorway and he laughs without an ounce of humor.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me, you knocked someone up? You irresponsible piece of shit-"

"It's not his and don't kill him, you asshole," Megumi says from where he has now joined the onesies discussion and points over at you. "It's the other person who lives here."

Sukuna pauses from where he was about to murder his brother, to look back over at you. You wonder if his brain is doing the same cursed math that you had done when you were hyperventilating, holding a stick covered in your own pee, but before he could ask anything, Maki ended the silent stand off.

"And we're happy about it, so get happy you piece of shit."

With that, the party continues on, people breaking off until little groups and snacks being placed strategically throughout the apartment.

You're feeling thirsty, and a little exhausted from the burning stare that's been directed at you for the past hour when you excuse yourself from where Miwa and Mechamaru had been talking about their own future plans for children, who you're sure would be socially inept but gorgeous enough to make up for it, and made your way to the kitchen.

You were pulling out some water, no alcohol for you even though you really needed it, when you felt someone's presence behind you.

"So when were you going to tell me we were having a baby?"

"Never, because it's not yours," you answered firmly, slamming the door to the fridge for good measure. Sukuna leaned against the cabinet next to you but you'd known him long enough to see the pose for what it was. A ruse, a performance of casualness. The fingers on his hand tapped against his arm like he was playing the piano, one of the few tics he had that showed when he was feeling, well just feeling anything in general.

"Oh please, you're not fucking anyone else."

"You don't know that and we're not fucking, we fucked once. Singular, past tense."

He laughed and looked down at you, the same predatory look he'd had the night he'd helped you make this child.

"And once was all it took huh? Fucked you so good, you're going to have my baby," he says, voice mocking and he stands up to his full height which puts him over you. He takes the glass of water you're really regretting now, and places it on the counter opposite the two of you.

"It-it's not your baby," but you don't sound sure and he knows it and he presses up against you until your back is to the counter. Nowhere for you to run.

"It's mine, just like you're mine. I don't know who you think you're kidding with this denial of me but it's done now, sweetheart."

You go to answer him and Sukuna covers your mouth with his hand like the rude fuck he is and then leans down, his mouth next to your ear. You look around, worried someone might see you but the gap between the fridge and the counter conceals you both and the room next to you keeps getting louder and louder. The sun had set and there were maybe some lamps in the living room, but here in the kitchen it was dark.

"I let you have your space and your time, two months of it actually. I let you have your little moral crisis about fucking a criminal and it being the best dick you've ever had wah wah, but I was impatient before I knew you were having my baby, and now," he leans back so his eyes, and they're on fire his eyes, are level with yours. "I'm done waiting."

You tug on Sukuna's hand and he rolls his eyes before removing it from your mouth and places it on your hip which doesn't seem like a good trade-off but at least you can speak again.

"What does that even mean?" You ask him, your voice showing the incredulity you're feeling but if Sukuna had anything, it was audacity.

"I mean I'll give you a week to tell your friends you're having our baby and that we're getting married." He says it so seriously that you can't help but laugh which seems to be the wrong response when his other hand moves to your hip as well and squeezes, tight.

"We are not getting married, are you out of your mind?"

"Why not, we're already having a baby, are you going to deny me the ability to live with my own child."

"Still not your kid, and we can't get married Sukuna. We never even dated! We fucked one time, that doesn't mean we should just be together forever."

"We fucked for one night, it was more than one time-"

"Not the argument you think it is," you interrupt him but you still let him pick you up and place you on the counter. You sit there while he runs his hands up and down your thighs, the sounds of the party washing over the two of you as you stay in your little bubble.

"We'd be good together," he finally says. "Not just because I knocked you up on the first try." You hit him but he just smirks and moves his hands more purposefully on your legs. You let him pull them apart and step between them even though warning bells are going off in your head, telling you these are moves you'd seen before and they had led to you being in the predicament the two of you were debating in the first place.

"It's inevitable, the two of us. You can say you hate me, or that I'm not a good man, and that's true. But there's a reason why you've never stayed with any of those nice boys," he says and his hands slips up the skirt you're wearing to get at your bare thighs underneath. "Because you don't want a nice guy, you don't want a good man, you want me and I'm too selfish to let you keep torturing both of us by doing this pretending shit."

The fingers on his right hand press against your cunt through your panties while his other hand squeezes your thigh and he moans sinfully into the quiet air.

"God, I knew I didn't make up this warm, wet cunt. Been fucking my fist until I chafed the past two months just thinking about it."

You whimper as he moves your underwear aside and slips one finger up and down your slit, not touching your clit or going where you want him, but doing enough that you move against his hand.

"This does not mean that we should get married," you protest and he teases a finger against your opening, pulling it back when your hips tilt up in an attempt to get him where you want.

"Why not? I heard pregnant women get super horny, what are you going to do without me around to make sure this filthy pussy gets stuffed just the way she needs." He finally slips one finger in, his thumb moving to tease against your clit, just the way you like it and your head smacks back against the cabinet. He moves the hand that had been on your thigh up so he can cradle your head.

"I'm sure I could find someone willing to help me out," you say scoffing and his hand freezes which makes you whine a little and try to get him to move again but his legs limit your range of motion.

"You ever try to fuck someone else ever again and the coroner is going to have to get dental records to figure out who the dumb fuck with no fingers, no eyes and no cock is, you got it?"

He's not joking, you know he's not joking but it doesn't stop you from leaning forward until you finally get your lips on his. He hums into your kiss, cupping your cheek in his free hand while the other one goes back to opening you up. You're so wet that the kitchen fills with the sounds of his him finger fucking your cunt but you can't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. He's not wrong that pregnancy has made you more sensitive, or maybe it's just you not having gotten laid since the two of you had slept together.

He's got three fingers in you when you come and he swallows your moans greedily with mouth while his fingers slow inside of you, curving just right to make you think you could probably come again soon, oversensitive or not.

Before you can test that out, he pulls away from you. He licks the fingers he pulled out of you clean and you you're reminded of how the last time he'd made you come twice just with his mouth.

"Where are you going?" you ask him, a little more breathless than you like.

"We are going home," he tells you, grabbing your hands and helping you down off the counter. Giving you a kiss on your forehead that you would tease him for if you were anyone else.

"Home?" you ask, confused because you are currently standing in your apartment unless his orgasms suddenly give one the power to teleport.

"Yeah, our home, not the shitty apartment you share with my brother. I mean we'll have to get somewhere bigger soon, for our baby."

For the first time since you found out you were pregnant, someone who was not you laid out their palm on your still just the same stomach. There was no change from how it always looked but Sukuna looked smug just the same and you felt like you were still missing a few things.

"What-"

"I mean I can fuck you here, I just thought your sensibilities and the fact your friends were all out there would make you uncomfortable."

Your post orgasm flush finally leaves you and you look up at him in panic. "Oh my god, do you think someone saw-"

"It's okay, Fushiguro kept them out I'm sure."

You don't want to know but ask anyway. "Why?"

"Because he walked in earlier and looked like he'd seen a ghost. Tell me, is the kid still a virgin? He's pretty but I can't imagine he has a lot of good options in your crowd."

When you leave to go to Sukuna's, the only people who don't look confused(or horrified in Yuuji's case) at your departure are Maki and Megumi.

If the confusion hadn't been cleared up by the time the baby came, the pink hair probably answered any follow up questions.

dealing with some writer's block and had this idea. didn't feel like writing a whole smut scene, my b but saving that energy for the next(?) neighborsukuna x singlemom one.

side note: Megumi is scarred for life, for sure. Yuuji gets over his horror once he's an uncle.

[theemporium]

[3k] a f1 gossip page gets insider knowledge of what might be the paddock's best kept secret. in fact, it is so well kept that even the paddock don't know who it is about (aka a wee crack fic i couldn't get out of my head ft the papaya bunch).

series masterlist

.

It was media day at the Barcelona Grand Prix when the rumours began.

Somewhere between team media duties and the official conferences, a group had found themselves lounging in the shared canteen. It was a neutral zone, the journalists weren’t allowed inside and it was just a place for most of the drivers to relax with their family and friends outside of the garages and motorhomes. 

You were sat in the seat next to Lando, his arm sprawled over the back of your chair and his thigh pressing against yours with how close he was sitting beside you. He was looking over your shoulder, a giddy smile on his face as you went through a few of the shots he had taken on his camera that morning—including an obscene amount of ‘candid’ shots that you made him swear not to post anywhere, despite his reassurances you looked gorgeous. 

It was a startled laugh from Daniel that caught everyone’s attention.

“There’s no fucking way!” Max laughed as he gaped at Daniel’s phone screen, shaking his head as he did. “Where the fuck do they get this from?!” 

Daniel only laughed harder. 

It took a few minutes before the Aussie finally turned his screen around and display the tweet for everyone to see. It took a few more minutes of snooping to find the article that followed the bizarre rumour. 

“Alright, who’s gonna fess up?” Lando joked as his eyes glanced over all the drivers currently sprawled across the various tables. “My bet is on Carlos. He seems like the kinda guy to have a secret kid.”

“Shut up,” Carlos scoffed before he nodded to the boy on his right. “It would obviously be Charles.”

The Monegasque spluttered out a laugh, his cheeks heating up. “It’s not me!”

“That’s what someone who has a secret kid would say,” Max retorted, seeming to enjoy the way the Ferrari driver’s face began to match the colour of his shirt. “You can tell us the truth about Charlie Junior.”

“First of all, I would never name my child that,” Charles said with his nose scrunched up in displeasure. “And I wouldn’t hide my children. I would be proud of them.”

“They could be hiding the children for privacy's sake. A paddock isn't exactly the best place for a child to be roaming around. Or the safest,” another voice spoke up and everyone’s eyes fell to the younger Aussie sitting across the table from you. Oscar squirmed a little under the sudden attention. “What?”

“You wanna tell us something, mate?” Lando questioned, a grin growing on his face.

Oscar’s cheeks burned red. “I-It’s not about me!” 

“You caught him,” Logan laughed as he playfully knocked his shoulder against his friend’s. “He has three kids back in Australia. Our lil’ Oscie is a father.”

Oscar frowned. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

“I’m offended you didn’t tell us,” you joked as you knocked your foot against his shin under the table. “I expected to be the godmother of one of your kids.”

“You would be if I had any,” Oscar quickly countered, making you snort in response. 

“Well, we have some clues,” Daniel commented as he leaned back in his chair, looking far too amused with the situation. “Time to start going through possible suspects.” 

“Maybe you’re trying to throw us off your scent,” you joked.

“Shhh, sweetheart, they can’t know about our secret family just yet,” the Aussie teased as he sent a wink your way.

You felt an arm tighten around you and turned to see Lando glaring—albeit, jokingly—towards his former teammate. “Back off, Ricciardo, if anyone is gonna have a secret family with her, it’s gonna be me.” 

Daniel laughed. “Please, the two of you couldn’t keep a secret from us if you tried!”

“Uh, we so could,” you retorted.

“You two couldn’t even keep Oscar’s surprise birthday party a secret and it was your idea,” Logan pointed out, raising his hands in mock surrender when your head snapped around to look at him. 

“We got excited!” You defended. 

“And you don’t think you would be excited about a secret family?” Oscar countered. 

“I think we could hide a secret pretty damn well if we tried,” you replied with a shrug as you leaned further back into your boyfriend’s embrace.

“Especially as something as serious as a secret family,” Lando added with a nod.

“Who cares?” Max eventually said with a laugh. “The rumour is a load of bullshit anyways. There’s no way anyone is going to believe it.”

As it would turn out, the whole world believed the rumours. The rest of the race weekend was haunted by the ‘new’ piece of gossip. The paddock was full of whispers of ‘who?’, the journalists thought they were being sly as they snuck in a few questions to catch the drivers off guard, and hundreds of fan theories took over every social media platform as the weekend commenced.

Truthfully, you thought it would be one of those rumours that dragged on for a bit as a joke but died down by the next weekend. 

You were very wrong.

...

...

You didn’t realise how wrong you were until the Austrian Grand Prix came about the following weekend. 

With both McLaren drivers wrapped up in some nonsense challenge video the media team had set them up for, you had made your way towards the Williams garage to spend your Thursday afternoon with them instead. 

There was a cosy spot in the garage where you found yourself sat with Logan and Alex as the team buzzed around them, whispers and talks of the car’s potential that weekend. You were laying back in your seat, your feet thrown over Logan’s lap as you chatted away to Alex when the American caught both of your attention.

“There’s two!”

Logan lifted his head to find two matching confused expressions staring right back at him.

“There’s two,” he repeated as he turned his phone around, a single tweet sprawled over his screen with an all too familiar username on display. “Two kids! A driver is hiding two kids!”

You snorted. “You have got to be shitting me. One rumoured kid wasn’t enough so they added another?” 

“This driver has certainly been busy,” Alex mused as he took Logan’s outstretched phone, beginning to scroll through the never-ending comments under the tweet. “I guess the long term girlfriend thing does kinda narrow it down.” 

You raised your brows. “Don’t tell me you think it’s real.” 

“I still have my bets on Oscar,” Logan commented with a grin, his eyes crinkling in the way you knew they did before the boy laughed. “He’s a dodgy guy. I bet he’s Formula One’s own Hannah Montana with a whole double life.” 

“And, what? We are a part of his famous life?” You questioned. 

“It would make sense,” Alex supplied with a shrug. “He could have a normal family back home in Australia and no one would even know.”

You rolled your eyes. “Alex, don’t encourage him.”

“Hey,” Logan frowned.

“If it turns out to be true, you wouldn’t be upset that your best friend hid something like that from you?” You retorted, watching as the boy’s face slowly fell. 

Alex snorted. 

“I need to go talk to….someone about…something,” Logan said vaguely before he quickly stood up, knocking your feet off his lap and rushing out the garage with a serious look on his face. 

“Logan!” You called after him, laughing as you did so but it was a hopeless endeavour. He was a man on a mission and you knew nothing would stop him. “God, I should go before he ambushes the McLaren motorhome.” 

“Life as a parent, huh?” Alex joked, nudging your shoulder and snickering when you rolled your eyes. 

“Who would have thought I would end up adopting an American of all people?” You joked back before standing up. “Time to go stop my eagle son from throttling my kangaroo son.” 

Alex flashed you a smile. “Motherhood suits you.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you rolled your eyes. 

And little did you realise there was a certain pair of ears listening in to your playful conversation with the Williams driver, already drafting up a message before you left for the bright orange building a few garages down. 

...

...

It was odd for you and Lando to find any alone time during a race weekend and it was mostly due to the two rookie drivers you had somehow adopted. 

It started off as a comfort thing at first. Lando knew what it was like to be young and new to the sport. He knew that even if he was coming in with friends, it still felt daunting. It was the reason he seemed to take Oscar under his wings after the Bahrain race weekend, despite the boy’s initial awkwardness. 

It had been you who gravitated towards Logan. Your heart warmed at the sight of your boyfriend helping out his younger teammate, but it completely shattered when you were making your way towards the McLaren garage and spotted a certain blond rookie hidden between motorhomes. He almost looked as though he was trying to make himself seem as small as possible. 

Lando didn’t question it when you started to venture to the Williams garages in between practices and media duties. He saw the look in your eyes, the small spark that showed your determination. He knew your kindness knew no limits and he would never even try to stop you. 

Neither of you realised you were signing up for the roles of the 2023 rookies’ grid parents until Logan and Oscar had sauntered into Lando’s driver room and all but settled themselves between you both on the Thursday of the Baku Grand Prix. 

You didn’t mind it, really. Race weekends tended to be hectic and chaotic on their own, so it was rare that you and Lando would spend much time alone. Beyond the exasperated sighs and joking remarks, neither of you minded when Oscar would lay his head on your laps after a gruelling interview or when Logan would ramble about some American custom he swears all three of you would enjoy. 

It was odd not being the youngest ones on the grid anymore, but there was also something so comforting in knowing you were a safe haven for these two boys in the paddock—and sometimes, even off the track. 

So honestly, it was an utter fucking shock that you and Lando found yourselves alone with time to kill in his driver’s room, especially with it being the Silverstone Grand Prix weekend. 

Neither of you questioned your luck for very long before you found yourself straddling your boyfriend, knees on either side of his hips and ass firmly planted on his lap. His hands were shamelessly groping your ass. Your hands were tangled in his curls, tugging a little harsher than usual just to hear his little whimpers in between kisses. It was shameless and sloppy and a little more than either of you intended—but you didn’t have a single issue with it. 

“Shit,” Lando moaned, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual when your lips met his neck. “I fuckin’ missed this.”

“Yeah?” You murmured against his skin, your tongue dancing along a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear. “I missed hearing how pretty you sound.”

“You can’t say stuff like that,” Lando grumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you closer, as he pressed his body against yours. 

“But it makes you blush and you look so cute when you blush,” you teased as you lifted your head, admiring the pink tint to his cheeks. “My pretty boy.”

“You’re a tease,” Lando muttered as he sat up on the couch, as he pulled you closer so he could press his lips against yours again. 

“You love it,” you retorted, the words mumbled in between kisses. 

“So fucking much,” he grinned into the kiss, his hands wandering down your thighs before slowly moving back up to your ass. 

In fact, it had been so long since you and Lando got a chance to utilise your time alone in the paddock that you forgot the first rule of making out like horny teens on the small couch—lock the fucking door.

“HOW COULD YOU—OH MY GOD, MY EYES!” 

“GROSS! WE DID NOT NEED TO SEE BABY NUMBER THREE BEING MADE!”

If it weren’t for the tight hold Lando had on you, you would have been flat on your ass when Logan and Oscar stormed into the room. You stared at the boys in shock, your cheeks heating up as the mortification of the situation washed over all four of you. 

You quickly moved yourself off Lando’s lap, instead sitting on the couch beside him as you stared at the two rookies who currently had their hands over each other’s eyes. 

“Have you ever heard of knocking?!” Lando sighed.

“Have you ever heard of a door lock?” Oscar retorted.

“Touche,” he muttered back with a nod. 

“You know you can look now,” you told the boys, a little amused with their theatrics. “We aren’t naked.”

Logan hesitated. “Promise?”

“Promise.” 

Both boys slowly dropped their hands and, truthfully, you were expecting for them to instantly break out into whatever excited ramble they had come to tell you both. It wasn’t unusual for them to do as much, to want to share something with you and Lando that amazed them but didn’t want to admit to anybody else in fear of seeming like…well, rookies. They knew you and Lando would never judge their excitement to the world of Formula One and all the little quirks they were discovering.

Except, there was no excited storytelling or massive grins. Instead, both boys stood in front of you with frowns on their faces and their hands on their hips. 

Lando’s brows furrowed together. “What? What happened?”

“Why did you two not tell us we are older brothers?” Logan asked bluntly. 

You blinked. “Huh?” 

“Why did you not tell us we are older brothers?” This time it was Oscar who spoke up. “Why are you gatekeeping our little brothers from us?” 

Lando frowned. “Is this a joke? Is that a punchline? Am I being stupid right now?” 

“We get the others on the grid but us? This is a new level of betrayal,” Logan said with a completely serious look on his face. 

You shook your head, utterly baffled by the two boys. “What the fuck are you guys on about?” 

“You have been hiding a secret family from us! You are the ones the tweets are talking about!” Oscar said as he reached for his phone, turning the screen around so you both could see the latest article. 

“WHAT?!”

“You have been keeping a secret from us. Families don’t keep secrets!” Logan accused, his eyes narrowed slightly. “If we even count as your family now.”

You gaped at them. “You seriously think that article is about us?” 

“There’s proof!” Oscar retorted.

“What fucking proof?” Lando questioned, his brows furrowed together in confusion. “How can there be proof for a family that doesn’t exist?” 

As it would turn out, the informant that had been feeding the gossip page the whole narrative had been also secretly recording conversations they had heard around the paddock. Along with the article, a series of 'leaked' audios were also released and they were, in fact, yours and Lando’s voice. 

This person had managed to record countless conversations you shared with Lando and even some other drivers—even the conversation you had with Alex the previous weekend in the Williams garage.

“Remember we have dinner with the boys tonight. Our reservations are at six.” 

“Did you remind them to put sunscreen on before they went out? I don’t want them to burn.” 

“Who knew being a parent was so hard, huh?”

“Your son is bullying my son for his accent again. Make him stop or you’re both getting grounded.”

“Well, he definitely takes after you!” 

Random lines of conversations taken completely out of context and, truthfully, you could understand why Twitter was going crazy. It seemed undoubtable that you and Lando were talking about your kids, it sounded like you truly were two parents discussing your children—if it weren’t for one large and missing piece of information.

“We were talking about you two, dumbasses!”

Both boys stared at you, blinking a few times. “Huh?”

“We are talking about the both of you in every single one of those clips,” you told them and you couldn’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh. “There is no secret family—just you two.” 

“Oh,” Oscar murmured. 

“But—oh,” Logan muttered a few seconds later.

“So this whole rumour started because somebody thought we were talking about actual kids,” Lando noted before snorting. “Fucking hell.” 

“Everyone thinks you’re a dad,” you remarked with a laugh. “The boy who has one piece of tupperware that’s hanging on for dear life.”

Lando grinned back. “Well, I may not be a dad but I am a—”

“If you call yourself daddy, I am breaking up with you.”

Lando only laughed harder. 

“So…you don’t have secret siblings you’re hiding from us?” Logan piped up, a shy smile on his face.

You shook your head.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed out, pressing a hand on his chest. “I knew you wouldn’t betray us like that! We would obviously be the first ones you tell, right?” There was a pause. “Right?”

“Well, we walked in on them almost conceiving a child,” Oscar pointed out with a shrug before his nose scrunched up in disgust. “Please don’t conceive our little sibling in front of us.”

“You were the ones that stormed in on us,” Lando retorted.

“Still.”

“Well, consider this your warning to get out in the next thirty seconds, otherwise you’re gonna see something that will really scar you—”

Your cheeks burned. “Lando!”

“What?” Lando flashed you a cheeky grin. “If they are gonna make up rumours about me being a dad, I may as well start practising for the real deal.”

You rolled your eyes.

...

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 354,762 others

landonorris does this mean i officially get the dilf status?

view all 15,866 comments

user aww cute!

user WAIT THIS IS WHO THE RUMOUR WAS ABOUT

user lando needs to pull a carlisle cullen and adopt me into the family

yourusername in my humble opinion, i think dilf suits you perfectly ;)

oscarpiastri ew

yourusername you're too young to be on instagram

logansargeant and you are too old to sexting on instagram

yourusername you're grounded

user I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS

user okay but the photos are actually so cute wtf

user THEY BECAME GRID PARENTS INSTEAD OF ACTUAL PARENTS

maxverstappen1 they had to start somewhere

danielricciardo i'm just happy the safe sex talk we gave lando actually worked. got worried for a second

yourusername you were just scared you would become a grid grandpa

danielricciardo GRANDPA???

user nothing will ever beat this rumour

user THE FACT PEOPLE ACTUALLY THOUGHT HE HAD A KID

user TWO KIDS

user FAMILY JPEG ACCOUNT WHEN

landonorris 👀👀👀

.

[buckyalpine]

Sharon calls you fat (pregnant reader)

I live for the angst where Sharon/people call reader fat and make fun of her not knowing she's pregnant and Bucky protects the ever living fuck out of her because that's his gorgeous babymama. Bonus when Sharon is a jealous hoe. Throw in some protective avengers in there too. Breeding kink? Pregnancy kink? Also yes. He's a feral, horny little shit here, I apologize.

You huffed as you buttoned your jeans, the waistband sitting snugly around your waist, pressing into your skin a little bit more than usual. You dug through the closet to find one of Bucky's hoodies to slip on, loving the way the soft material engulphed you in his scent.

You weren't showing much yet but your body was certainly changing. Your sense of smell was heightened, constantly craving to be surrounded by your boyfriends smell. Your breasts were growing heavier and your clothes were more fitting than before. Cravings had already started. Your cheeks were a tad fuller and you were certainly glowing.

Bucky's super soldier serum was no joke.

You made your way down to make something for breakfast, grabbing a bag of peppermint tea to help with some of the nausea you had been experiencing. Sharon sauntered into the kitchen, still clad in her tiny workout clothes as she went to the fridge to grab a water bottle.

"Hey Sharon" You smiled as you poured water into your mug while munching on a cookie, grabbing another when your tummy rumbled. Baby Barnes clearly took after daddy, craving anything and everything sweet. And salty. And sweet and salty.

"Hey y/n" Sharon's eyes looked at you up and down, cocking her head slightly while you snacked, rummaging around for something else to eat. "Might wanna cut down a little there, huh" She teased, nodding to the potato chip you popped into your mouth.

"What?" You weren't sure you heard correctly, setting down the bag while she pursed her lips.

"Oh, nothing. I don't know how you eat that stuff, it's so greasy"

"Hm, yeah I guess" You gave her a weak smile, her words causing the insecurities you were already feeling about your body to creep back up again. You had a heavy feeling in your chest, seeing her flit about the kitchen, still perfectly toned. You shook those thoughts away, remembering the reason beautiful your body was different but it didn't do much.

The words still stung.

You decided to make your way back to your room to wait for Bucky to return from his morning jog with Steve, passing by one of the new trainees as you left the kitchen. Their hushed whispers caused you to stop in your tracks, your stomach dropping when you heard what they were saying.

"She's getting fat" Sharon snorted, hardly noticing you weren't out of ear shot while the trainee giggled along with her, nodding in agreement.

"Oh my God, you should've seen her at the gym yesterday. She was breathing so hard while running on the treadmill, I thought she was going to pass out. I don't even think she lasted 5 minutes before calling it quits" The trainee replied while Sharon rolled her eyes.

"She's gonna looked like a beached whale if she keeps eating like that, I swear she finished the entire row single handedly"

"I don't get what Bucky is doing with her. Honestly, I'm not even complaining. If she gets any fatter he's gonna leave her so maybe that'll make it easier for me" Sharon cackled along with the girl, the both of them snickering while swooning over the soldier. "He's so hot. I don't get what the hell he's doing with her, he can do so much better. Just wait till I show him, he'll see what he's missed out on"

You hardly realized you'd broken down into tears, slapping a hand over your mouth to keep from sobbing. You ran to your shared bedroom as fast as you could before anyone else saw you, closing the door and instructing FRIDAY to keep everyone out. You threw your jeans off, hating the way they were tighter on you, curling up under the covers, muffling your cries into the pillow.

-

Bucky ran his fingers through his short locks, making his way to the kitchen to grab some water after his run, smiling to himself knowing how much you loved to slink around him whenever he worked out. He loved how needy and cuddly you were, always burying your face into his neck of chest, trying to crawl up him like a tree.

"Where are you babygirl" Bucky called for you, expecting to see you in the perched in the kitchen with your pepper mint tea you'd recently been relying on, only to find a full mug without you in sight. Sharon and the new agent were still there, both of them eyeing him up and down, hoping to get his attention.

"Hey Sarge-

"Have you seen y/n" Bucky cut Sharon off, still looking around for you. Sharon rolled her eyes again, stating she hadn't seen you at all, since she'd spend her own morning working out. Bucky frowned, picking up the still hot tea, taking it up as he made his way to the bedroom.

"Sweeheart?" Bucky called for you softly, his heart racing when he hard soft sniffles from the other side of the door, his anxiety spiking when the door was locked. "Baby, are you okay? Can you open the door please?"

You hiccupped, trying to calm yourself down hearing Bucky's worried voice, quickly wiping your face before getting out of bed to open the door for him. His heart broke seeing his sweet girl with red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks from crying, pulling you into him while shutting the door behind him.

"What's wrong mama" Bucky cooed, hugging you tightly while you whimpered in his hold, your insecurities at an all time high as he slipped his hand under your hoodie to stroke the bare skin of your back.

"Am I fat?" You whispered, worried the question would make realize you were less attractive, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face.

"What?" Bucky pulled away, shock evident on his face while you stared at your feet, swallowing nervously.

"Please don't make me say it"

"Sweetheart, look at me" He held your face firmly in his hands making you look a him, "Why would you ask such a thing"

"I-I heard some people talking in the kitchen. Said I'm fat" If it wasn't for Bucky's enhanced hearing, he would've missed your fallen voice as you hide your face in his chest again.

"Absolutely not baby, who said that to you" Bucky held back on the red hot anger that surged through him, needing to comfort you first before raining hell on whoever hurt you.

"But I am Bucky!" You cried in frustration, pulling away from his hold. "It looks awful and I'm just going to keep getting bigger, I- I get if you don't find me as attractive-

"Hey, hey, stop, baby look at me" Bucky stopped your rambling, pulling you back into him, his hands holding your face firmly, "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are to me? Hm? Do you have any idea how insanely attracted I've been to you ever since you told me you're pregnant?"

You shook your head, your heart jolting when he pushed himself against you, letting you feel the hardness between his legs, poorly contained in his joggers.

"Bucky-

"C'mere" Bucky threw your hoodie off before stripping his own clothes aside, his hard cock angry and leaking, desperate to fill you. "M'gonna show you baby"

He didn't give you a second to protest, carrying you over to bed and laying you down, spreading your legs apart, flicking his cock against your clit before tracing it down to your entrance and shoving himself home.

"Bucky!" you moaned, your legs moving on their own to wrap around his waist as he started to move, throbbing the entire time.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful mama, if you weren't pregnant already, we'd be in here all day till you were" Bucky groaned, grabbing and caressing your soft skin, already leaking into you. "You're gonna look so sexy when your belly gets all round, when these breasts get all big, they're gonna leak so much carrying my baby"

He moved to tug your swollen nipples between his pink lips, groaning at the thought of how sweet your milk would taste. Your back arched off the bed from how sensitive they were, your cunt fluttering around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

"I already know you're gonna get so swollen mama, its my baby in your belly. Did you forget its my cum that got you pregnant? Did you forget there's all that serum in my cock baby? I got you fuckin' pregnant, I'm you're babydaddy, I can't wait to see you get all tired, pouty and big with my super soldier baby"

"Oh fuck Bucky" you wailed, his words making your heart swell while your pussy nearly squirted as he hit that spongy spot deep in you, "P-please don't-don't stop"

"I won't stop baby, couldn't even if I wanted to, y'feel too good. Fuck, just knowing you're pregnant makes me so hard, can't believe I knocked suck a pretty little thing up, so lucky I got to stuff you nice and full"

Bucky started to fuck you harder till he headboard added new dents to the wall since the extra strength walls Tony added had nothing on Bucky's stamina and strength.

"Can't wait till everyone sees how pretty you're gonna look, m'gonna show you off, make sure everyone knows you're my girl, the love of my life, that you're carrying a piece of me in you"

"But- but what if they think-I won't look-" You're insecurities tried to sneak back in but Bucky wasn't having any of it, shutting ha down immediately.

"I'll fuck you in front of them. You think I give a fuck? I'll bend this pretty ass over, hold that perfectly round belly and stuff my cock in you till it leaks and makes a mess on the floor. I'll show them exactly what I did to get you that big in the first place, let them see how swollen my cock gets for you, goddamn, I'm gonna cum!"

Bucky fucked you hard and fast, letting you feel him in your stomach, not holding back one bit, his hand flying to grip onto the headboard.

"Bucky-Bucky gonna-I'm gonna-!OH GOD" You let out a silent scream, cumming around him without warning, your pregnancy making you extra sensitive, being able to orgasm without him even touching you.

"This sweet, soft fuckin' body" Bucky's pace faltered, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, "So good to me, so fuckin' good!, gonna cum mama, gonna give you more of my cream, gonna full that pussy up n'keep you pregnant forever, take it gorgeous, fuckin' beautiful, no one makes me hard like this, m'gonna cum so hard-fuck-fuck-FUCCCKKK M'CUMMING" Bucky roared against your neck, his cock bursting with ropes of cum, emptying his balls dry with sloppy thrusts until the sheets were soaked. You both panted, sweat covering your bodies, the sweet, primal smell of sex filling the room making your practically purr.

"You're the most beautiful thing to ever happen to me. I love you no matter what. You're stunning to me at any size, pregnant or not, don't you ever forget it" Bucky held you firmly, brushing his hands over your belly, pressing a kiss to your temple. You nodded, already feeling better, nervousness replacing your previous anxiety because you knew Bucky wouldn't let the incident slide.

"Who made you feel this way baby" His voice was gentle but he wasn't leaving any room for negotiation.

"Just leave it Bucky" You shrugged, not wanting to make it a big deal but he shook his head.

"Can't do that sugar. No one makes my doll upset. You get some rest alright? let me make you lunch and we'll take a nap after"

You nodded, letting him slip his henley over your head, grabbing some comfy sweats for you to wear and throwing on his own clothes before heading down. You froze as you neared the kitchen seeing everyone else downstairs gathered for lunch which was a rare sight but there had been less mission recently meaning everyone was home. Bucky gave your hand a comforting squeeze, a stark contrast the to protective anger he felt again.

"Who the fuck spoke about y/n" Bucky stormed down, silence filling the room immediatly, everyone staring at each other in confusion while Sharon's face filled with guilt. "Well?!"

"What happened Buck, Steve and I were training this morning" Sam said honestly, while the others nodded in agreement, still looking at each other wondering what was going on. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"Well someone said something because she was upset in our bedroom and it happened today" Bucky had a good feeling about who caused your distress, knowing no one else would ever do such a thing but he wasn't about to call out Sharon ha easily, seeing her already squirming in discomfort.

"There's an easy solution to all this, give me a second" Tony typed something into his phone before calling for Friday, "FRIDAY can you play back the audio from this morning from when y/n was in here"

"Certainly, Mr. Stark"

The audio started with you greeting Sharon, followed by her comment and then the conversation she had with the new trainee. Shock and gasps filled the room, everyone glaring at the blonde with disgust while she shook her head, her stomach churning.

"I-I didn't say anything! That wasn't even me!"

"Really? Then who the fuck was it" Bucky spat, ready to jump her across the table, his fists balled at his side. Sharon huffed, biting her lip while Bucky continued to glare at her, still holding your hand softly in his. His anger only flared more, thinking about how she thought she could replace you.

"Fine! I said it! But was I wrong? She is bigger than before" Sharon weakly defended herself, trembling when Bucky flinched, his self restraint growing thinner. Your eyes grew steamy, squeaking when Bucky moved to wrap his arm around your tummy, slipping it under your shirt.

"Cause she's pregnant. With my baby. I'm her babydaddy. I got her pregnant. You wanna know how? I fucked her. So hard. I didn't just fuck her, I made love to her cause she's my girl. Do you have any idea how attracted I am to her? How much cum there was? I didn't pull out once. She's so tight around my cock, its hard not to fill her up. Just kept going until my dick started to hurt and even then, I didn't wanna pull out"

Sam smirked at Bucky's utterly unhinged, x-rated rambling while Steve buried his red face in his hands. Tony cackled from the side while Nat patiently waited to get a chance to lay her hands on Sharon on Bucky's behalf.

"I-I get it, enough-

"You're delusional if you think I'd ever leave her for you. This is the love of my life. She's giving me a baby. She's beautiful. I chose this woman because she's special, she's this one I want to have a family with. You know what, you better get used to it cause I'm gonna get her pregnant again and again and it won't be hard considering how badly I constantly want her. In fact, we fucked just now, tell your little friend that"

"Oh my god" Sharon huffed, harshly wiping her tear streaked face, ready to throw up from embarrassment. She choked a sob, running out without looking back, Bucky's words tearing her apart. Everyone ignored her presence, immediately piling onto you with hugs, kisses and congratulations instead.

"Congratulations, babydaddy" Sam grinned, playfully nudging Bucky's shoulder making him blush, his arms still wrapped around your tummy. "And to you, little mama"

"I call god father" Steve announced, kissing your cheek before pulling Bucky into a tight hug, happy for his best friend and you.

Nat cracked a few knuckles, giving you a quick peck on the head, promising to celebrate later before following Sharon out, ready to hand her ass to her. The little trainee would be next.

"So what you're both saying is there's gonna be another super soldier running around here?" Tony's eyes lit up with excitement and a dash of fear when he remembered the baby would also be surrounded by idiots like Sam and Steve. He'd have to reinforce everything.

Immediately.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MEET UGLY — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college au!, rich boy! gojo, first meets, slight meet ugly but mainly he’s just annoying, established relationship in second scene, banter + fluff, kissies for da princess boy <3

dating gojo has always been, and will always be, the biggest unforeseen plot twist of your life.

the first time you encounter gojo satoru, it’s in literature class. he laughs with that dark haired friend of his a bit too loudly in the back while you try to share your thoughts on the reading from last night—it’s not that you particularly care for the class, but you’re trying to get the participation points, and you don’t want some slacking jackass to ruin that for you.

you throw him a glare over your shoulder, making him pause and blink before he shoots you a cheshire grin. you swear you hear a chuckle from the distance as you turn and continue speaking.

the second time you stumble across him is in line at the campus coffee shop. it’s the first day of the semester, and you have class in fifteen minutes across campus, but you’re tired. incredibly so—working shifts back to back late into the night is not doing you any favors, but you have to afford gas money and textbooks somehow.

you need caffeine, and you need it quick so you can make it to class on time.

except the tall, snow-haired stranger in front of you is making that very difficult as he takes forever and lists his wildly long list of syrups and add ons for his drink—seriously, who can even stomach a drink like that? you crinkle your nose as you imagine how sweet it must be. what irritates you more is that he pays for his ridiculously expensive drink that’s far too sweet for eight am with a black card. you glare daggers into the back of his head, wishing you could crack his skull in two with your stare alone.

and then he turns, raises a brow as he stares at you calculatingly—and then his lips turn into a grin as he seems to recognize you. great, you think.

“hey, weren’t you in lit class with me last semester?” he asks, making you sigh as you purse your lips.

“yes. now please move, i need to order and get to class.”

“she curved that final exam pretty generously, i thought i was going to fail—”

“i’ll take a large double shot,” you mumble, ignoring him as you place your order. you can feel his stare from the side as you pay.

“that’s pretty strong, don’t you think?” he asks, making you throw a glare at him from over your shoulder, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

it only seems to amuse him more, making you grit your teeth—how irritating could someone even manage to be? there’s got to be some sort of record he’s holding for most nerves he’s ticked off within the span of two meets.

“well, assuming from the fact that you’re a college student with a black credit card,” you huff, “you probably haven’t had to work a single night shift in your life.”

you put away your own card as you speak—one that’s not black, and one that’s going to have a very high bill due soon from the textbooks you’ll have to purchase.

“i like you,” he grins, “you’re funny. how about i—”

you cut him off again, done interacting for the morning. “have a nice day,” you say curtly, walking over to the wait area for your drink.

he seems entirely amused by your attitude—which only pisses you off more. does everything seem to make his lips quirk into that annoying smirk of his? and why is it so handsome? what a waste of such a gorgeous face to be paired with such an insufferable personality. and, because the universe hates you, he waits around for you even after he gets his drink, following you out the door when you grab yours and leave.

“how about i take you out for coffee tomorrow?” he grins, “i’ll pay with that black card you like so much.”

what an asshole—you hope he gets hit by a car and loses a few teeth.

“no.”

“c’mon, it’ll be fun—”

“no.”

“okay,” he chuckles, “feisty. i like it.”

and then, as you turn the corner, he turns with you, walking leisurely behind you as he sips that disgustingly sugary drink of his.

“what the fuck,” you hiss, “why are you following me?”

“i’m not,” he says innocently, “why are you following me?”

where are all the cars in the streets when you need them? and why haven’t they hit him yet?

“i’m walking ahead of you jackass,” you huff, “how can i be following you?”

“oh yeah?” he takes a few strides with those abnormally long legs of his, walking ahead of you as he shoots you an amused grin over his shoulder. “now you’re following me. does that mean you changed your mind about that date?”

“you wish,” you seethe.

a few more steps, and he walks into the same building as you. great—you’ll likely be running into him every morning then. a few more steps and he’s turning the hall to the same hall as you. wonderful—you’ll probably have to deal with him to the walk to class too. a few more steps, and then you realize he’s entering the same class that you’re entering.

fucking fantastic. just what you needed. absolutely divine luck—the universe has really handed you the largest pair of clown shoes it could find.

of course he of all people would be in class with you for another semester—and he seems to brighten considerably when he realizes he’s in your class too, because his grin widens even more.

“well, look at that,” he says brightly, “you followed me all the way to class. we might as well be seatmates.”

“don’t even think about sitting near me,” you warn, “i’m going to go that way. you go that way.”

he does not go the way you point—instead, he chuckles and plops down right beside you. how on earth could someone be so easy to despise? of all the empty seats in the entirety of the lecture hall, he just has to choose the seat right next to you.

for a moment, you contemplate skipping this class entirely and trying to teach yourself everything before the tests just so you don’t have to see him—you’ve done that enough times, it shouldn’t be too hard. but then you remember that this course is notorious for having a semester long paired project that weighs for a hefty amount of your final grade—skipping is not an option.

so, with veins ready to pop any second, and an oncoming migraine, you sit through all of lecture trying to ignore the absolute worst guy you’ve ever met. not only is he rude and obnoxious and overly confident to a fault—but he’s also rich and spoiled and privileged to live in a realm entirely separate from your reality.

you think you might just hate him.

you’re broken from your thoughts when you hear your name as the professor lists the pairs she’s already made from the roster for the semester’s project. this is great, you think, she’ll call someone’s name, and you’ll have that as an excuse to sit with them and avoid the nuisance sat beside you.

everything is fine. you’ll be free in just a few moments. it’ll all be over soon.

“gojo satoru,” she calls, “if you could raise your hand so your partner knows who to find after class.”

then, as if in slow motion, the very same guy who ruined your morning raises his hand, looking over at you absolutely enthused as his eyes sparkle through the top of his sunglasses—which, only an asshole would wear sunglasses indoors.

“hey partner,” he chuckles, “how about coffee tomorrow to discuss our project?”

—————

satoru likes to think that even with his unfortunate start with you on the wrong foot, he’s managed a steady relationship with you.

you don’t tell him to get hit by a car anymore—instead, now you kiss his forehead before bed every night, hold his hand and swing his arm with yours when you’re out, cuddle him after long days and talk about life, and sometimes—when he’s been extra good, you might even do other activities with him that include a whole lot of intimacy and exclude a whole lot of clothing.

he likes to think you’re pretty in love with him—and he’s proud to claim himself as your adorable, sweet, very handsome and extremely funny boyfriend. although, you don’t really ever call him all that, but he’s fairly confident you think it, and that’s close enough.

“baby,” gojo pokes your arm from his spot on your lap, “on a scale of one to ten, how cute would you say i am?”

“an eleven when you shut up and let me work,” you mumble, stroking his hair with one hand and doing calculus problems with the other.

he pouts, huffing in disbelief.

“you know, if you keep taking me for granted, you might lose me,” he says petulantly.

it earns a snort from you as you give him an amused look.

“toru, i think your mom would pay me to get back together with you if we ever broke up.”

“she would not,” he gasps, watching as you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“remember our first fight? you practically starved yourself in your room,” you giggle, “she had to beg me to come talk to you so you’d eat.”

“that’s not true! i had kitkats and coke zero in my room,” he defends himself, crossing his arms as he sits up. “i was fine.”

“you definitely cried yourself to sleep,” you snicker, “you’re hopeless without me.”

“i am just fine without you,” he lies through his teeth, turning away from you as he tilts his head up indignantly.

“remember when you couldn’t even last a week without me while i was studying for finals? and then your mom had to call and beg me again to spend time with you?”

“that’s not—”

“admit it, toru,” you grin cheekily, pinching his nose as you chuckle, “you’d probably die if we ever broke up.”

“and you’d be fine?” he asks incredulously—he’s almost distressed at the idea, staring at you in slight hurt that makes you laugh before setting your calculus homework aside.

you grab his arm and pull him into your side, kissing his head as he slumps onto your chest.

“i don’t know, i don’t think i’d mind watching a mopey satoru beg me to take him back.”

“you don’t deserve me,” he grumbles, “i deserve to be loved and cherished. i’m a catch.”

“i bet you’d make that ugly face of yours when you cry,” you tease, making him look up at you with an offended gasp.

“i’ll have you know i’m exceptionally pretty when i cry. the waterworks have gotten me loads of things from my mom—i’m irresistible.”

“you’d probably be on your knees in seconds,” you continue to poke fun at him, “please take me back. i’m nothing without you, baby,” you mock his voice, giggling as he glares at you unimpressed.

“now you’re just being a bully. do you even love me?”

“i do,” you grin softly, pecking his cheek, “i love you a ton. you know that.”

“you don’t act like it,” he grumbles.

you laugh, hugging him tighter as your fingers slip into his hair again. sometimes, you think you should be shocked you’re here—laying in bed with gojo satoru and kissing his cheeks as he pouts. you of the past might just kill you of the present if you saw yourself now….but something about gojo is charming enough that you can overlook the very annoying first impression you had.

enough that maybe….well, maybe you might also be a bit hopeless without him—but you’ll never tell him that.

something tells you he knows, though, when he wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you impossibly closer, kissing the corner of your lips as he grins.

“what about that time you got soooo jealous?” he grins, “we weren’t even together yet. and remember that time you begged my mom to take home baby pictures of me? you’re obsessed,” he says proudly, “i would be too. i’m adorable.”

“you’re a pain is what you are,” you mutter.

“i love you too,” he chuckles, burying his head into your shoulder.

you grin, the curves of your lips painted with love as they find his forehead, pressing delicate kisses to the skin. maybe being paired for a semester long project with the annoying rich boy in your class wasn’t so bad—maybe you owe finding the softest love you’ve ever had to the strict and unpleasant professor who gave you an A- when you definitely deserved an A.

“and how are you so sure i love you?” you ask playfully. he rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers with his.

“because you haven’t hit me with your car yet,” he bites back, making you laugh brightly.

plssss i want him so bad i cannot take it anymore every day without him feels like pins and needles in my skin it’s utter agony i feel like my life’s meaning has been stripped from me i feel like my lungs and heart both burn from the lack of oxygen i feel like i am but an empty shell with no soul lost and wandering the planet searching for a reason to go on

ps. if you have been reading along w rb! gojo i hope you caught some of the references to old drabbles ;)

[itsvelyria]

"the moment the f1 boys realised you were the one"

Charles Leclerc

being able to cry around you: charles has a bad habit of bottling everything up. it was three months into your relationship when he had a particularly bad race, a stroke of bad luck. he was met with pats on his back and mutters that he would do better. numbness flooding his veins, they did nothing to ease the anxiety in his chest. he met your eyes across the room and watched as you stepped closer. with extended arms, you'd told him to let it out. never once has anyone ever told him that before, and so he had instantly broken down, exhausted from having to hold it all together. there was nothing needed but your presence. he sobs messily into your shoulder and the next morning, he had wished that he'll always have you around.

Carlos Sainz

when he realised you knew him better than he did himself: "how did you know?" were his first words, when he came home one night, only to come face-to-face with a pair of Airpods on the nightstand, addressed to him. he had sorely needed a new pair after losing them on the plane but hadn't had the time to purchase them. "because i know you" was your answer, beaming up at him from the side, where you were preparing dinner. you had missed the deep look in his eyes, rambling on; first his sister's wedding anniversary present in the coat closet, then the watch his father had wanted mended for a while now all fixed. and there it was: that was the moment where carlos finally understood the fluttering in his heart.

Danny Ricciardo

making the best out of life: when you had agreed to go out with danny solely because he made life feel that much brighter, but what you didn't know was that he felt the same way about you. you were always up for anything, the easygoing aura you carried with your being influencing him, especially when he had suggested sharing the singular umbrella left in the store — the unexpected downpour having caught you both off guard. nonetheless, you huddled under the umbrella, both your shoulders getting soaked the second you left the safety of the grocery store shelter. eyes meeting across the umbrella handle, you both break out into chuckles at your plain misfortune. that's when he realised — there was no one else he wanted to be stuck in a bad situation with.

George Russell

inside jokes: it was a small thing, minuscule even, the earliest memory of the joke being one of your first few dates, before you were even official. it was just a simple coincidence that the situation you were called for it. in the group dinner with your mutual friends, george's eyes had shot to yours, searching for the only being who could possibly understand him. and in that flash of a moment when his blue gaze met yours, your bodies had naturally leaned towards their other halves, giggles muffled into your hands. if your friends were surprised at the sudden laughter, he doesnt even notice, too preoccupied with how gorgeous you looked in the candlelight and how fast his heartbeat has gotten.

Lando Norris

shared comfortable silence: your boyfriend loved people, befriending strangers and great conversations. it all came easy to him, possibly due to growing up a middle child, he mirrored a little ray of sunshine. but as much as he adored socialising, lando found that he equally enjoyed quiet time with you, especially on lounge chairs by the beach while you flipped through your book, absolutely taken by the words. lando admired the expression fluttering across your features with each passing page. something strange settled in his tummy as he continued staring, something he could only allude to how peace might feel like. perhaps this is how life was meant to be lived, he thought.

Lewis Hamilton

sharing tattoo meanings: lewis has had a lot of art done on his body over the years and he's proud of all of them; memories and meanings forever part of him. with the orange glow of your nightlight at 3am, he watched as you traced the patterns on his skin, telling you stories and what each of them meant. you had soaked up the words, mesmerised by the deep lull of his voice as he opened up his heart to you. never has anyone been so interested in him as a person, all they wanted to know was his career and business and he appreciated it. to you, he was just a man — someone you wanted to know more about.

Max Verstappen

his pets greeting you: as the provider for his cats, he expected a touch more loyalty from the feline beings. still he remained seated, fixated on how jimmy and sassy nuzzled at your calves, the warmth of their tiny bodies against his legs previously lost. the silence was broken by the sound of grocery bags tossed on the kitchen counter as you stooped down to scratch their fuzzy chins. a light purr emanated from sassy while jimmy rolled over, also meowing in a bid for attention. his heart strangely light, he watched you indulge them like the spoiled brats they were. was it because of how much love was within you or the care you held for the things he held dear? either way, max couldn't tamp down the urge to cross the room and wrap you in his arms, much like you did with his pets now, the three little words in the back of his throat.

[bunnys-kisses]

Please can I get sourdough bread, with tea, a vodka shot and pina colada please for Lando :) thanks bunny x

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order then hit up the menu! i'm always accepting orders so please submit away! submit a bunch of prompts, do whatever! and thank you to this lovely anon for a great order! thank you, thank you and enjoy!

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + tea (semi-public/public sex) + vodka shot (rough sex) + pina colada (pregnancy) served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, pregnancy & breeding kink, rough sex, semi-public sex, couch sex, clothed sex, quick & dirty

in the world of racing, everything seemed to move fast. from the changing of locations to the race themselves. everything moved with an efficiently and speed that it would leave most people in a tizzy.

lando loved it, he loved the intensity of it all. it paired well with the frequent thump in his chest, the need to move. to be fast, to win. that need for speed didn't end with the track, it was also how he fucked.

he fucked like an animal, while he loved you to bits, the intimacy you shared was rough and frantic. and in all fairness it made you core warm when his cock quickly hit the back of your pussy.

it started in the driver's room, the tiny bit of privacy that could be afforded during the weekend. lando knew that he should've just waited until you got back to the motor home for mclaren and gagged you to keep you quiet. but, after the rush of qualifier, he needed his girl now.

with the door to the driver's room closed and locked, lando was crowded your space right up against the couch. his hands on your face as he pulled you towards him.

"i want you." he said between his kisses, his hands gropping at your ass, "i want to breed you. "i'm going to breed you." his voice was low before he was kissing at your neck once more.

"can't wait till tonight?" you asked as he grabbed at your breasts, feeling the flesh between his hands. you swallowed back the intense feeling of lust, your body felt hot all over.

"no, no." he purred as his hands hiked up the cute skirt you wore. he needed you, it wasn't a want. it was a need. like he needed water after a race or the weight of a trophy in his hands.

he had a good feeling for the weekend, if the qualifier was anything. luck was on his side, so that meant he had to use it to get his girl nice and pregnant. he got you onto the couch and your skirt pushed up to your waist.

you were in an awkward angle, with your knees at your chest and you trying not to hit your beloved boyfriend in the face with your sandal clad foot. lando got your panties off and his cock out of his pants. there was no time to waste.

usually lando would spend hours taking your beautiful, gorgeous, loving girlfriend apart. but soon he'd be back out on that track and he needed to be quick. he kept you in a nice mating press and sank his cock into your.

his pace was quick, his adrenaline was rushing. you had your knees pressed into your chest as he fucked you from a good angle. he was really working his hips against you. he panted, "that's it. fuck you'res beautiful. jesus christ, i need you. you're everything to me." he made a soft noise and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from being too loud.

and he was worried about you being the loud one.

he pushed your further onto the couch and kissed you heavily as he moved against you. he gripped onto your thighs as he used it as leverage to fuck you heavily. he panted and felt his orange shirt cling to his back as he thrusted back and forth.

"you're perfect." he groaned, it was hard to keep quiet when he was balls deep inside of you and the need for you grew in his throat. even when he was fucking you, he still wanted more.

"keep quiet, lando. someone might hear us."

"if it gets you pregnant, then i don't care if they hear. you fuckin' blow my mind every time." he chuckled as he continued to hit his cock up against you.

he was practically in your cervix with how hard he was fucking you. he was a man on a mission when it came to making sure his girl got pregnant. he groaned a little bit before you grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him into a searing kiss.

the weight of him on top of you felt good as he thrusted into you. you whined into the kiss as you core throbbed as your felt your toes curl.

his lips remained on yours as you let out a soft groan. you held onto the couch as you clenched around him. you whimpered into the kiss as you came. you felt hot all over and the intensity all over you. it made having clothed sex feel difficult, the way your blouse stuck to your sweaty back. he continued to thrust into you, his cock hit you just right.

he came inside of you and he felt the heat throb in his body. he almost dropped his entire weight onto you.

as you both took a breath to compose yourself. your cheeks stung with a blush. you pushed the hair out of your eyes. lando went in for a soft kiss.

you both froze into the kiss as you heard a knocking on the door. you both looked at one another and lando was quick to get his cock back into his pants and you were quick to get your panties back on.

"hey mate." oscar said on the other side of the door, "don't really care what you're doing in there with your girl. but hurry up, they wanna take photos."

you, lando and even oscar all thought you were going to die of embarrassment.

-

"i don't want to hear it." you said with your arms crossed. it was the start of the new season, and you returned from the multi-month break with a swell in your middle.

of course everyone knew that you and lando were expecting a child. but you two had spent most of the holidays with family, and didn't really see much of the grid (except for photos that lando shared with the driver group chat), but to see your swollen middle up close and personal was something else.

oscar had his hands on his hips as he said, "i wasn't going to say anything. i'm happy that you two are having a child. it's cute."

you raised your eyebrows at him, "he wasn't conceived in the driver's room." you said, then looked away for a moment, "it probably happened on a flight if you want to split hairs about it."

oscart nodded, "well. congratulations." the poor driver would almost catch you or fully catch you in the act over the previous season. while he didn't see anything to explicit, the positions were compromising at best and pornographic at worse.

he was worried that his teammate was taking some kind of drug to stay hard as much as he did.

lando came over and draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling it to the solid muscle of his chest. he smiled at his teammate and asked, "you bothering my wife there, mate?"

oscar chuckled, "just seeing how she's doing." he turned away and said, "i'll see you love birds later." <3

[minisugakoobies]

Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist

 It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown. 

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate. 

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop. 

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far. 

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo. 

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything. 

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say. 

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question. 

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited? 

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone. 

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips. 

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again. 

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace. 

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?” 

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!” 

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over. 

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going? 

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous. 

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks. 

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity. 

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away. 

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo. 

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic. 

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck. 

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself. 

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now. 

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors. 

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say. 

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.” 

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache. 

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly. 

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock? 

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg. 

“Oh no, that was just for you.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?” 

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence. 

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf. 

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric. 

“Is that what we are? Friends?” 

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?” 

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you. 

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all. 

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!” 

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.” 

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip. 

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”  

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs. 

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin. 

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.  

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.” 

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake. 

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind. 

“Just think about it.” 

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing. 

And oh, god, do you think about it. 

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name. 

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall). 

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs. 

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment. 

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.” 

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.” 

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority. 

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape. 

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear. 

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod. 

“And what did you decide?” 

“I - I don’t know.” 

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?” 

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage. 

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir. 

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.” 

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list. 

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs. 

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.” 

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.” 

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely. 

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?” 

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin. 

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?” 

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes. 

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger. 

Fine, then. You’re a fool. 

“One.” 

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable. 

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?” 

“Um, yeah, sure.” 

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. 

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.” 

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.” 

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.” 

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice. 

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.” 

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?” 

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking. 

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.” 

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.” 

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath. 

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.” 

“No shit. Everyone knows that.” 

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.” 

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again. 

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.” 

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?” 

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right. 

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?” 

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.” 

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.  

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it. 

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek. 

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move. 

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply. 

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open. 

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him. 

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.” 

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go. 

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need. 

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed. 

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated. 

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants. 

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water. 

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.” 

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience. 

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.” 

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body. 

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it. 

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him. 

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.” 

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue. 

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.” 

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?” 

“I will.” 

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing. 

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.” 

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens. 

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little. 

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps. 

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands. 

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.” 

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.” 

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you. 

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life. 

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze. 

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso. 

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves. 

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between. 

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!” 

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.” 

And just like that, you feel that spark again. 

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash. 

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite. 

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation. 

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer. 

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder. 

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.  

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his. 

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!” 

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.” 

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls. 

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!” 

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.”��

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.” 

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you. 

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you. 

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts  your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.” 

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.” 

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.” 

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.” 

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?” 

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl. 

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it. 

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip. 

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises. 

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire. 

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need. 

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.” 

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs. 

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!” 

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him. 

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.” 

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush. 

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace. 

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content. 

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and - 

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.” 

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.” 

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look. 

“What?” 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?” 

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.” 

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.” 

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss. 

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

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© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my works.

Taglist: @scoupsjin; @aznstoner; @yourtmblrgirlfriend; @hyunlvrs; @notevenheretbh1; @chrisbangsgalaxy; @dessianna1

[gay-dorito-dust]

hmmm just imagine Jason Todd with a girlfriend pretty and kind like an angel and everyone is just shocked because 'how they're a couple??"

Think I went a little of ask for this one 😂 🦦

Jason calls you his angel for a reason.

You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re downright beautiful/gorgeous and withheld an equally sweet, kind soul that bleeds through everything that you did or said. When you met Jason he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, finding him just slumped at your front door, severely injured. Anyone else who knew better would’ve left him but no, not you. You brought him -THE RedHood- into your house and home out of the kindness of your heart and patched him up as best as you could.

Heaven sent is another name of endearment that Jason called you and it held true on a plethora of occasions where he would find himself being dragged back at your doorstep, and it wasn’t long after that did Jason finally allow himself to pursue a chance at happiness by your side, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t the best decision he’s ever made in his entire life because being with you had been nothing short of a dream for Jason. A dream he never thought he’d get to live with the fucked up ordeal of having came back from the dead.

However when his family manages to catch wind of this because nothing stays secret for long, not by a long shot, their first thought was; how?

This wasn’t a slight towards Jason or his character but they couldn’t help but feel as though they’ve blinked and missed something extremely pivotal for this to have become the end result. They weren’t the only one to share this sentiment though as even Jason would be taken aback by your differences and often wondered if you were too different for your relationship to work.

It does however and it was one of the only times where Jason was grateful for being wrong for getting inside his own head, and just before he possibly ruins the best thing that has ever happened to him in a long, long while by self sabotage too. God only knows how much Jason would’ve hated himself for doing such a heinous thing to someone as underserving of such treatment as you.

So when Dick asks him one day ‘how did you manage to get someone like them?’ Whilst gesturing to you as you talked with the likes of Duke, Stephanie and Cass and getting along. Jason couldn’t think of a clear answer that would be enough to satisfy his brother’s curiosity because how was he meant to answer that question without it sounding generic and unoriginal.

‘Did you use any offhanded tactics to get them to be in a relationship with you?’ Damian asks and Dick gives him a look, only for the younger of the two of them to shrug his shoulders. ‘It was only a simple question Grayson.’

‘Yeah, just not one you ask when your brother comes home for the first time in months, and in a relationship nonetheless with the epitome of sweetness.’ Dick replied before looking over to Jason who was looking over at you with soft yet protective look on his face, but before Dick could say anything about how nothing was going to happen to you whilst in the Wayne Manor, Jason had already found the answer he has been looking for the entire evening.

‘They saved me.’ In the moment he said those words you looked over at him, Dick and Damian and smiled brightly that it never failed to knock the air out of Jason’s lungs upon seeing it. His angel, his heaven sent, the face he is blessed to see first and last thing in the mornings and late nights where he gently scolds you for staying up for him before kisses you in gratitude for doing so anyway.

Dick seemed content with this answer and meanwhile Damian looked visibly indifferent, he made a noise that said that he was also satisfied with this answer, just in time too as you came over to Jason and subtly held his pinkie with your own as you kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t to tell me how cool your siblings were Jay!’ You began when Dick decided to join in on it too as he looked as Jason, betrayed. ‘You didn’t? Why not? Is it because you want your lovely partner to always be biased towards you?’ He pouts.

You chuckled and patted Jason on the bicep as you addressed Dick. ‘I’m always going to be bias towards my Jason.’ You admitted, causing a wave of warmth to flood Jason’s entire body upon hearing your confident confession. ‘For he is simply the best man I have ever met and that will never change.’

‘Never?’ Dick asked.

‘Never.’ You answered.

‘Even if he may be in the wrong sometimes?’ Damian asked this time and you shrugged, still smiling. ‘Not all of us are perfect beings and that’s a reality I’d accept rather than one where we’re all without flaw, physical or otherwise.’ Jason felt as though he might combust from your words alone but managed to compose himself enough to press a kiss to your temple to whisper against it. ‘Thank you baby.’

‘Anything for you Jaybirdie.’ You responded in kind, feeling him take hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you rested your head against his bicep as you both continued to talk with Damian and Dick.

Yours and Jason’s relationship may not be what many expected it to be or make logical but why should it when you and Jason were more than happy together?

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Katharine Hepburn (Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story, The African Queen)—(I hope someone else submits real propaganda but just in case they don't:) Cries. Screams. Wails. The woman who singlehandedly made me realize I was bi. A real "do i want to look like her. be her. or be with her.' crisis, where the answer was all three. Holy shit please all three.

Diahann Carroll (Paris Blues, Carmen Jones, Porgy and Bess)— Face of an angel. She had the range. She brought chemistry with every romance she portrayed. She also had a great fashion sense, and was so pretty Mattel made a doll based off of her.

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Diahann Carroll:

Another groundbreaking black actress, although she might be better remembered for her television roles. She was also an activist and worked with charities to support women in need.

here she is hanging out with shadow prince anthony perkins :3

Katharine Hepburn propaganda:

I'm sure one million people will submit her as an iconic Hollywood star but that iconicness might lead people to forget just how insanely hot she was like she had it ALL she was skilled she was funny she was smart she was beautiful AND she was likely bisexual

The single word I would use to explain Katherine Hepburn's appeal is *range*. In her acting career, that meant covering all the ground between lush period dramas and the comedies she did with Carey Grant and Spencer Tracey. In terms of hotness, it meant an uncanny ability to bring anything from a Dietrich-esque androgyny to some of the best Classic Hollywood Glamour you will ever see.

Katharine hep was so cool. The VIBES, the INDEPENDENCE,,, living life on her own terms.

she just had this.... bearing to her, this power. she could be funny, even silly (like in bringing up baby) but also so regal and elegant. she was nobody's fool and dear GOD that's so hot

Fancam link

She’s not only stunningly gorgeous (those eyes that pierce your soul! a jawline you could cut glass with!) but her delivery and physical presence in roles gives off confidence and authority in such a sexy way (truly the biggest dick energy of Old Hollywood). Her fiery energy in The Philadelphia Story? Unmatched.

God she's. She's so hot y'all. She has the range!!!!! Funny and dramatic and lovely

She IS the transatlantic accent. Classically gorgeous and such a strong personality.

She's literally one of the funniest women to ever live! She goes shot for shot with Cary Grant in Philadelphia Story and we damn well love her for it! She's the most annoying creature to ever live in Bringing Up Baby but she's so insane and funny that we simply cannot help but fall in love with her (and root for her to give Grant an aneurysm!)

i know she's accounted for but i really want to be sure someone has submitted the scene in bringing up baby where she's pretending to be a gangster

She simply stuns onscreen; you cannot do anything but be captivated by her presence. Also a non-gender-conforming icon and mild tumblr celebrity by virtue of that one picture from The Warrior's Husband (stage play).

Katharine Hepburn was out here casually changing the lives of young butch lesbians with her gender swag! She wore pants even when people said she shouldn’t, she refused to marry or have kids, and she wore menswear in at LEAST one movie!

If I start thinking about her face for too long I will cry she is so so hot. Katherine is so charismatic and charming in everything she appears in - watch her adopt a leopard and fall in love with her. Also she has the biggest dick energy ever (she and her pal Lauren Bacall share that accolade). Also had an incredibly long and varied career from screw ball comedies to serious dramas - she’s a queen of the screen and I adore her.

Someone's got to mention it, but she's won the most Oscars out of any performer and is largely considered one of the greatest actresses ever. She's got an incredible voice, an incredible presence, and she absolutely steals every scene she's in. She was private person and deemed standoffish and unapproachable, but she was also profoundly concerned for people's rights and was an outspoken supporter of abortion access. Finally, the Katharine Hepburn slacks look is just iconic. I mean look at her.

This woman. I have been obsessed with her for years. I know the urban legend is a popular one at this point of her walking around set in her underwear when her pants were stolen and she was left with only a skirt, but the pants thing is honestly enough for her to be the hottest in the room in my book. She refused to wear anything else at a time when the public in general and especially the studios did not like that. She was independent, stubborn, and so so very capable. Competency kink anyone? Also, if you want one final way that Katharine's entire life was saying "fuck you" to the establishment, it started young! Her mother took her to suffrage events, and she never got rid of that attitude of justice. I feel like I have barely scratched the surface of all the ways she was such a badass that I'm turning into a rambling mess instead.

[wordsarelife]

—gorgeous

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: being in love with your best friend might be a bad idea, but drowning your sorrows in alcohol might be your worst one yet

warnings: underage drinking, partying, no usage of y/n, a few suggestive remarks

notes: this is my official entry for the hogmarch challenge of @thatdammchickennugget using prompt 2: “are you speaking parsletongue or am i really that drunk?”

the night was rushing fast away in front of your eyes, easy chatter, at the start of the party, quickly turning into drunken singing and shouting along to the music that was drowning out everything else.

the dim blue light that was shining through the ravenclaw common room did it‘s best to worsen the drunken state many of your classmates were in.

mattheo was sitting on a couch, wearing his usual cool demeanour and being surrounded by his friends. they were known for getting a bit drunk, but never making an embarrassment out of themselves through loud singing or obnoxious dancing.

and normally you were known for sitting right next to them and doing the same.

even though it was dark, you could see mattheo's head turn and his eyes searching the crowd for you. you had excused yourself to get something to drink. that had been over ten minutes ago and you were really debating to just go to bed.

the night had turned out differently than you had expected and you weren't really in the mood to act like it hadn't.

"someone is looking for you" a voice behind you said and you turned around startled.

"harry" you said relieved when you recognized the boy.

it wasn't like the two of you were friends, after all you were coming from vastly different groups, but since a project in astronomy you had become acquaintances, sometimes sharing a few nice words at parties.

"why are you standing here all alone? why aren't you with your friends?"

"why aren't you?" you shot back, making harry quirk an eyebrow.

"well played" he complimented and smiled "i was trying to get away from dean and ginny making out"

"ouch" it wasn't really a well known fact that harry fancied ginny, but you had noticed it right away a few parties ago and he had been able to read you well enough to know that you had known.

"it's alright" he shrugged "i just don't want to sit next to it"

"who would?" you asked sarcastically as you eyes fell on the couple, hungrily making out on the couch, successfully pushing seamus off.

it seemed that a few people felt way too comfortable in the ravenclaw common room.

"oi, it's no fun with these two" seamus complained, sympathetically hitting harry's shoulder on the way to the table with the drinks.

"back to you" harry grinned, seemingly uncomfortable with talking about his secret crush on ginny weasley more than necessary "why are you avoiding riddle? i thought you two were the best of friends"

"i'm not avoiding him" you said defensively, taking a big gulp from the vodka in your cup to prevent yourself from saying any more.

harry took a moment to study your facial expression, before he sighed in a tone that almost made you tear up "oh"

"no" you shook your head "no 'oh', stop looking at me like that, potter"

harry laughed dryly "too late" he shrugged "so, being the best of friends is your actual problem, huh?"

you didn't answer his question, but took another sip from the cup. immediately regretting it.

harry cringed "if you continue drinking at that rate you won't be able to speak a coherent sentence in a few minutes"

"maybe i don't want to speak coherent sentences anymore"

"so we're already at the point of drowning our sorrows in alcohol?" he raised his cup and took a sip "no, you're right, it doesn't look like you're unluckily in love with riddle at all"

you sighed "okay, fine, you're obviously smarter than you look" you rolled your eyes.

"well, ouch" harry said offended, but you could see a hint of mischief in his eyes. "am i allowed to join your little club of self-pity?"

"sure" you nodded "the more the merrier i guess"

"there's no better way to spend a party than drown yourself in self-pity with the girl you're kind of on good terms with"

"yeah, totally" you grinned "but i think if we continue talking at that rate we will be able to call each other friends in an hour"

"deal" harry laughed, before he grabbed the bottle of vodka on the table behind you, filling both your own and his cup back up. he put the bottle back and held his cup in your direction "to unrequited love" he said dramatically.

you grimaced, but raised your cup to clink against his. "to unrequited love" you toasted "and unexpected friendships" you added.

"yeah that too" he smiled before you both took a big sip from your cups.

"vodka is fucking disgusting" you complained and harry nodded, making a face that would allow the assumption that he had been thinking the same thing.

"at least it does the trick"

you and harry spend the next hour recklessly sipping vodka, while you were telling each other ridiculous stories. the vodka had a quicker effect than either of you had thought, making the both of you dance and refer to each other as friends sooner than you had predicted.

just as 'dancing queen' began to play and you were twirling on the dancefloor, did you notice the empty spot on the couch occupied by your friends. there was only one of them missing. before it could really register in your brain who exactly was missing, a voice rang out next to you.

"make room, potter" you and harry both turned around, looking surprised at the arrival of mattheo riddle.

"matty" you laughed after the few seconds it had taken you to recognize your best friend.

mattheo's arm darted to the side, catching you before you could fall to the ground. you had made the attempt to hug him, missing his body by a few feet. you had been closer to hugging cormac mclaggen who was standing off to the side.

"there you are" mattheo noted, gently taking your cup out of your hand, sniffing the contents and grimacing at the strong sent of vodka, mixed with a bit of orange juice.

"do you want some?" you slurred, grinning up at the boy, who's arm was still holding you steady.

"how many of these has she had?" mattheo asked harry, thinking he would be a little less wasted than you.

"like thirty-four thousand?" harry answered before him and you broke into simultaneous laughter.

"had to have been a lot" mattheo muttered, noticing the way you were laughing with the chosen one, gripping his arm, like you were old friends.

he let go of you, taking harry's cup as well, emptying the both into the bucket under the table with the drinks. he came back right in time to witness you saying goodbye to harry with a dramatic hug, kissing both his cheeks and lastly his forehead.

"yeah, that's enough" mattheo said, dragging your body back against his when he noticed you going in to plant more kisses on harry's face. he looked bad enough, the red lipstick you were wearing leaving marks all over his face.

harry smiled before he waved at you and turned around, stumbling through the crowd of students probably in search of his redheaded best friend.

mattheo rolled his eyes. "you're absolutely wasted, darling"

you turned around to look at him and unconsciously bring a bit of space between the both of you "is it that obvious?" you asked.

mattheo watched with a smirk, how you tried to balance yourself out, to just be able to stand. your arm ended up stabilizing your own hip and you almost fell full on to the side, when you moved your leg.

"not really" mattheo grinned "come on, baby" he softly gripped your waist on either side, guiding you in the direction of your friends. you closed your eyes, leaning your head against his shoulder, letting him walk you through the room willingly.

"have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"i am?" he asked laughing.

"so gorgeous that it hurts"

"you're flattering me" he smiled, nudging your arm. "but maybe you should concentrate more on walking in the right direction"

he was right. it was taking you way too long to cross the room, thanks to your inability to still walk in a straight line, even with his help.

"hey" mattheo greeted, making the eyes of his friends turn on him. "i'm bringing her to bed"

"already?" enzo asked skeptically, checking his watch "it's only two a.m."

"hey guys!" you greeted when your eyes snapped open. you bend forward, plastering a kiss onto enzo’s cheek. "how the party you doing? good? good!" you smiled, nodding as your eyes fell closed, as you leaned back onto mattheo again.

"what?" theo laughed at your slurred words that had not made the slightest bit of sense.

"yeah, i get it now" enzo nodded understandingly, trying to rub your lipstick off his cheek.

"she's only been gone for an hour" blaise said unbelievingly "how did she get that drunk?"

"she's had approximately like more than a thousand vodka-o's according to potter" mattheo chuckled.

"potter?" draco repeated disgustingly "what has she been doing with potter?"

"harry and i are best friends" you gushed, giving draco an angry look. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, but without questioning your answer.

"let's not get ahead of ourselves, love" mattheo argued, a bit of jealousy in his voice.

"you don't have to be jealous" you softly touched his cheek "you know i love you more than anyone, honey"

blaise let out a loud whistling noise "seems likes she's your girl after all, riddle"

"oh shut up" mattheo said at the same time as you said "of course"

"better bring her to bed now" theo advised and you could feel mattheo nod next to you.

"i'll be back in a few minutes" mattheo promised, as he softly turned you around to be able to walk you in the direction of the door.

"no he won't" you slurred, turning your head in the direction your friends, gripping mattheo's neck and winking at them.

enzo hollored and theo laughed, while blaise repeated the whisteling.

"cheers to that" even draco was amused about you, as he raised his cup in your direction.

"i'll be back" mattheo assured again, pushing you forward.

"no you won't" theo shook his head, smirking as he watched his friend roll his eyes and gently guide you through the crowd.

"how about a shot of tequila?" you suggested to mattheo, perfectly awake again. there was no hint of the tiredness that had consumed your body only a few minutes ago.

maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the sound of a familiar voice indicating the beginning of the song 'whatta man' by salt-n-pepa, which was now booming through the boxes.

"no, no more alcohol" mattheo shook his head, suddenly being the kind of responsible he had never seen himself to become.

"oh my god!" you gushed when you finally reconized the song "that's my favorite song! let us dance, matty!"

he was distracted by two hufflepuff boys almost running into him, when you saw the perfect opportunity to escape his hold. stupidly enough, that was the only thing you could see, as you had promptly gotten lost in the crowd of people.

mattheo was at your side only a second after, making you realize that you had in fact just turned around, without moving more than a feet away from him.

"if you don't come with me on your own accord, i'll have to carry you" mattheo warned.

you giggled, clasping your hands around his biceps "let us dance" you pleaded, completely ignoring what he had said.

mattheo furrowed his eyebrows, still waiting for you to reply to what he had said, but you were busy watching a few ravenclaws and hufflepuffs downing shots. "or we could down some shots" you mumbled.

mattheo took that as answer enough, clasping one of his hands around your forearm and the other around your leg, as he bend down to throw you over his shoulder.

"matty" you protested, as he began to walk you out of the common room. you gave up arguing and continued to sing along to the chorus of 'whatta man' as mattheo walked you both through the crowd of people.

as soon as the door to the ravenclaw common room fell close behind the two of you, you slumped down on mattheo's shoulder, the tiredness hitting you immediately.

"do you want to walk on your own now, baby?" mattheo asked, but he could feel you shake your head. "can you use you words?" he was growing a bit concerned at your sudden mood shift, trying to make sure that you were still somewhat alright.

"no" you pouted "i don't want to use my words"

"you just did"

"i never let a man tell me what to do" you slurred and mattheo had to chuckle.

"clearly" he muttered under his breath.

he walked through the halls of the castle quickly, making sure that you wouldn't be discovered by one of the teachers. you would probably kill him if one of them saw you like this. you never really got that drunk often, so it was on mattheo to make sure that no one found out about it now.

he should've searched for you immediately after you hadn't come back. he shouldn't have waited an hour. but he was scared of annoying you. you were always together and he had taken your absence as a sign for you needing some space.

if he could, he would follow you around all the time, preferably holding your hand while doing so. maybe in another universe you would want him to do that.

"when are we there?" you asked, your hand wandering across his shoulder, before it finally found it's place in his hair, gripping it tightly.

"any second now" mattheo was trying to make sure not to shake your body too much, as he quickly walked down the steps to the dungeon. he wouldn't want you to throw up. "do you feel sick, sweetheart?"

"no" you muttered "i just want to sleep"

"i know, i know" mattheo patted the back of your leg "we're almost at the door"

he hadn't lied. it only took a few more seconds, before he whispered the password and the door to the slytherin common room opened, revealing the familiar green lighting as he walked you both inside. he crossed the room, climbing the stairs to your dorm.

he took his time to set you down on your bed, making sure that no quick movement could make you feel uncomfortable. he unfolded your blanket, spreading it across your body.

he was ready to leave the room, before you called him back.

"matty" you cried and he perked up, walking back to the bed. you threw the blanket to the side dramatically, revealing your trousers and shirt. "i can't sleep like this"

"oh" mattheo said dumbfounded "do you want me to take them off?" he asked slowly, gripping the waistband of your trousers.

"are you speaking parsletongue or am i really that drunk?" you giggled at the joke with your eyes still closed.

"you're really that drunk" mattheo answered, rolling his eyes at your unseriousness "and it's not funny"

"it's a bit funny" you opened your eyes and giggled at his facial expression "why are you so serious, matty?"

"i should've kept an eye on you" he answered "you don't like to be drunk"

"i can make my own decisions" you argued, crossing your arms.

"obviously" mattheo nodded "should i take them off?" he repeated his question from earlier, but the tone of his voice made you sober up immediately, well at least a bit.

"are you really angry at me right now?" you asked surprised.

"i had to leave the party to bring you to bed"

"that's not the reason you're angry" you said, knowing him well enough to see through his lie.

"okay, fine" he sat down on the bed and you sat up, drawing your knees to your chest and hugging them with your arms. "maybe i'm a bit angry that you would rather spend your evening getting drunk with potter than speaking to me"

"matty"

"no, it's fine" he shook his head "i shouldn't be angry about how you choose to spend your time. goodnight" he stood up from the bed, walking to the door quickly, so voice rang out before he was able to twist the doorknob.

"can you please just stay?" you asked and he turned around in surprise.

"what?"

"maybe i chose to spend time with harry, but i'm choosing to spend the night with you. isn't that more important?"

"that's not how it works"

"okay, fine" you said, tired of arguing "do you want to know the truth? spending time with you is super hard while i'm madly in love with you" even though you were a bit more sober than before, he could still recognize the drunkness in your voice, especially because you were never that bold.

"madly in love with me, huh?" mattheo repeated surprised, his signature smirk immediately replacing the frown on his face.

“it’s embarrassing, i know” you buried your face in your hands, hiding your rosy cheeks from his eyes. he softly took your hands in his, freeing your face of them.

"don't hide from me" he smiled "and it’s not embarrassing, because the truth is, that i'm madly in love with you too"

you smiled up at him. “can you kiss me then?” he smiled at your question, but shook his head.

“no more kisses tonight” he muttered, softly stroking your hair “we can do that tomorrow, as often as you want to, when you’re sober again”

“okay” you nodded.

he gently helped you to exchange your trousers for pyjama bottoms, before he took of his shirt and climbed into bed next to you. you cuddled close to his chest, your hair tickling him whenever you moved.

"blaise was right" you said finally "i'm your girl after all"

"you always were" mattheo whispered back, softly kissing your forehead, before the both of you fell asleep, holding onto each other.

[7ndipity]

“Eyes On Me”

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you visit Yoongi on the set of the Haegeum music video, you realize you might have a slight thing for his Agust D persona.

Word Count: just under 1.7k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, Dom Yoongi, light degradation, slight mirror sex, mentions of voyeurism, unprotected sex(pls don’t do this), swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

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You were practically vibrating with excitement as your car pulled up to the filming location. Usually, Yoongi liked to keep a certain level of separation between his work life and you, but since he was going to be filming as his Agust D persona, which he knew you had a more than slight obsession with, he’d asked if you wanted to join him on the trip to Thailand.

Naturally, you’d agreed immediately, loving any opportunity to show your support for him, and also knowing, whether he admitted it or not, that he was slightly nervous about being without any of the other members. Plus, there was no way you were about to pass up the opportunity to see him as his alter ego in real life.

As you climbed out of the car, you were greeted by one of his staff members, who then led you through the building to where they were currently filming.

Through the crowd of crew members, you managed to catch sight of him as he was talking with the director, clad in a patterned shirt and dark jeans, the necklaces around his neck catching the light as he moved, his hair, which you’d developed an obsession with since he started growing it out longer, was styled in a gorgeous mess of tousled waves.

You’d have to remember to thank his styling team later, his look exuded the perfect balance of casual, edgy sexiness, leaving you unable to tear your gaze away.

As you stared at him, he happened to look up and catch sight of you, his eyes lighting up as he sent you a tiny smile and wave, but before you could greet each other any further, the director called action and suddenly your Yoongi seemed to disappear.

As soon as the song started to play, Yoongi’s lips curled into a cocky smirk as he danced around the room, rapping along perfectly with the backing track. As he spun away from the camera, he shot you a quick glance, giving you a sly wink that made your thighs clench involuntarily.

You tried to ignore the stirring heat in your lower belly, but as they continued to film, you became embarrassingly aware of the growing wetness between your legs.

You couldn’t believe you were this turned on from just watching him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him perform before, but something about seeing him like this, with that over-confident swagger and wicked gleam in his eye, had you squirming in your seat to try and subtly alleviate the growing need in your aching core.

After what felt like hours, they finally called for a break, giving Yoongi(and you) time to rest while they reset the cameras for the next shot.

Yoongi immediately made a beeline for you, a sly smile teasing up the corners of his mouth as he looped his arms around your waist in a quick hug.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, pecking your cheek.

“Mhm.” You nodded, suddenly feeling shy for some reason.

He looked at you quizzically. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, why?” You replied innocently.

“Your face is red.” He said, smirking at you.

You looked down, flustered.

He leaned in close enough that no one else could overhear him.

“You know, you’re really not as subtle as you think you are.” He murmured against your ear. “I saw the way you kept staring at me. Care to share what you were thinking about?”

You shivered slightly as his fingers traced along your waist teasingly.

“You just looked really hot.” You admitted.

“Yeah? You like this?” He teased as he pulled back, gesturing to his outfit.

“Mhm.” You nodded, eyes following the way his hands caught hold of one of his necklaces.

“You should see what they’ve got me in later, a full suit with my hair slicked back.” He said in a low voice.

“I like you like this.” You whispered, catching hold of the edge of his shirt as you stared up at him, desperate need clear in your eyes, causing his gaze to darken.

He caught hold of your hand, pulling you along behind him as subtly as possible through the building til he found the spare room that was being used for wardrobe and makeup, which was mercifully empty of staff at the moment.

He quickly tugged you inside, pressing you up against the wall as he kissed you hungerly, his mouth hot and demanding, not at all like his normal gentle touch.

“I only have ten minutes, so you better behave.” He said, pulling back to stare you down with lust blown eyes, grinding his growing erection against your clothed core and causing you to let out a soft whimper.

A flicker of movement in your peripheral caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the full length mirror in the corner of the room, showing off the way Yoongi had you caged in with his body.

Yoongi noticed your gaze and glanced up, his earlier smirk returning.

“Well, isn’t this convenient?” He purred in your ear, pulling you forward and spinning you so you were now in front of the mirror, your back to his chest. “This way you can still watch me, since you like that so much.”

Without breaking eye contact with you in the mirror, he slipped a hand down your front of your pants, teasing you over your underwear, feeling the growing damp patch on the fabric.

“So fucking wet already.” He growled in your ear. “Did seeing me like this really turn you that much?”

“You always make me like this.” You breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Ah-ah.” He caught your jaw with his free hand, drawing your gaze back to the mirror. “Eyes on me, understand? You look away, you don’t get to cum. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You whispered, feeling a shiver run through your body as you met his gaze in the reflection.

“Sir?” He raised a brow at you in amusement. “Shit, you really are gone for me today, aren’t you?”

Heat flooded your face, but you didn’t deny it, bucking against his hand fruitlessly. “Please.”

He removed his hand from you, making quick work of both of your pants before bending you over, barely teasing the tip of his cock between your folds before thrusting into you without warning, making you let out a small yelp, which Yoongi quickly muffled with a hand over your mouth.

“Careful, Doll, wouldn’t want anyone to hear what we’re doing in here, right?” He mocked as he bottomed out, not giving you time to adjust before drawing his hips back and trusting into you again, quickly setting a harsh pace as your hands shot out to brace against the mirror.

“Or maybe you would like that? Hmm? Want everyone to know what a little slut you are for me?” He adjusted his hold on you, deepening the angle of his thrusts and making you let out another low whine, mouth hanging open in pleasure.

“Such a slutty cunt, just couldn’t fucking wait to be filled, huh?” He grunted, watching the way you fell apart so easily on his cock.

Your hands clutched uselessly at the smooth surface of the mirror for stability, trying to hold yourself up as Yoongi continued to pound into you.

“Y-yoongi.” You whimpered, fighting to keep your eyes open and fixed on him.

“Hmm?” He cocked his head at you. “What is it, Baby?”

“Wanna cum, please.” You pleaded.

“Yeah?” He leaned over you, never slowing his thursts as his hand came back down to find your clit, rubbing harsh circles over the little bundle of nerves and making you shake in his hold.

“Cum.” He commanded.

Almost instantly, your orgasm crashed over you, biting your lip to keep from screaming out his name as you threw your head back.

Taking the opportunity, Yoongi latched onto your neck, sucking and biting at the skin and dragging out your release, causing your walls to spasm around him uncontrollably.

“Fuck.” Unable to hold back anymore, he thrusted harshly into you, his hips losing their rhythm as your clenching heat sucked him in, his cock pulsing as he coated your insides with his release.

“Fuck.” He repeated shakily, stilling deep inside of you as he leaned his forehead against your back, trying to catch his breath before pressing a kiss to your skin. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

You laughed shakily, still staring at his slightly fucked-out image in the mirror.

He pulled out, quickly tugging your underwear back into place before anything could escape.

”Keep that in for me, yeah?” He said low in your ear, resting his hand over your abused cunt. “We can’t be making a mess of the set, can we?”

You shook your head, wobbling slightly as you tried to turn to face him, Yoongi’s hands instantly shooting out to steady you.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared earlier, the dark glint in his eyes faded, leaving only the gentle sweetness of your Yoongi staring back at you as he held onto you.

“You alright?” He asked gently.

You nodded. “Just need a minute.” You admitted with another quiet laugh, making him smile in relief before pressing his lips to yours, this time so much softer and full of love.

There was a sudden knock at the door, making you both jump back slightly.

“Yoongi? We’re ready for you on set.”

“Be right there.” He called, never taking his eyes off of you.

He pressed another gentle kiss to your lips before leading you over to sit in one of the makeup chairs.

“You rest, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Okay?”

“Okay.” You replied, watching as he tidied himself up before heading for the door. “Hey.”

He paused, looking back at you questioningly. “Yeah?”

“Do you think they’ll let you keep that outfit?” You asked with a grin.

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll ask.”

“Thank you.” You beamed.

He slipped out the door, mumbling something about “ridiculous”, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

He did keep the outfit though.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[sinning-23]

Backseat Pillow Princess

Hey y'all! I like to call this game, "Guess what I saw and cant stop fucking thinking about?" Take this because I need them both carnally and I'm sure you do too!

Enjoy :D

Warnings: violence, blood, swearing, the reader is annoying and Logan pretends to hate it in a way that seems like he actually does, they should have fucked but uhhh they didn't, lots of tension, pt.2 coming soon hopefully?

PT.2 UP NOW

"Bae i love youuu, you my everythinggg~"

"Can she shut the fuck up"

"I'm your main bitchhhh, fuck a wedding ringggg~"

"Only if you ask her nicely,"

"Nah, I like when he's mean."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me"

The nonstop back-and-forth bickering had been going on for about 2 and a half hours now and the man the myth the legend, Wolverine was getting dangerously tired of it, unfortunately. Your shitty renditions of Sexyy Red matched with Deadpools incessant yapping was becoming too much to bear.

But little did he know, that was exactly your plan.

"Are we there yetttt" You whine from the backseat, sprawled out with your arm over your face.

It had been what felt like days (despite it only being a couple hours as previously mentioned) you'd been driving and the fact that you were in a small space filled with touch-starved testosterone(Wade and Logan) wasn't helping your case.

"If you shut up it'll go faster," Logan grumbles, Wade's chatting only worsening.

"No, it won't, you're just being mean! What's a sexy, super talented, immortal.. sorta, girl like myself supposed to do?" You whine again, an idea soon popping into your head.

If there was anything you loved more than seeing how far you could push this crotchety son of a bitch, it was stirring the pot.

Knowing the idiot riding passenger, a slip-up was inevitable and all it would take was the right pressure applied from yours truly.

"Hey Wade, wanna ask Wolvie what he's gonna do when he gets back? To his own timeline that is." You hum, resting your elbows on the middle console and your chin in your palms.

Ah yes, the fantasy your sick little brain conjured up was almost to fruition. All they needed were a few nudges and you'd all be at each other's throats with as much violent, sexual tension you could dream of.

"Yeah, what will you do if the TVA can fix your timeline?"

Bingo

You lean back, preparing for the absolute bloodbath that's bound to take place as the tension skyrockets.

Now up until this point, you'd be trying your damndest to get into Wolverine's pants, call it 'something you needed to scratch off your bucket list'. Anyway, from the "Mad Max"(as Wade put it) esque part of the void all the way here, you made your fair share of passes.

Unfortunately, all were shot down with a snark comment, the unsheathing of those gorgeous adamantium claws, or a growl...all of which only further fueled your desire. What could you say you liked a challenge?

"What did you say?"

You lean forward, making eye contact with Wade, his head shaking as if to say "No don't don't don't" but you were never good with social cues.

"He said 'IF' sweetheart." You retort, practically kicking your feet as the look in Logan's eyes grows wild, that growl barely bubbling in his throat as he and Wade converse back and forth.

"You shut the fuck up." He seethes, though directed at you his eyes stay focused on Wade.

You fight the urge to say 'make me" but you soon become quiet when Logan really starts to read your buddy in red. Oh, this fucker was definitely projecting...

"And you," He's got an accusatory, gloved finger pointing at the center of your face.

"You got some unresolved daddy issues or something? I don't know what hole or holes you're trying to fill but I can sure as shit tell you the harder you try to get under my skin the more it makes me wanna rip yours off that pretty-looking face." He growls, your heart practically beating out of your chest.

"Now I suggest each of you shut your goddamn mouths until we are where we need to be."

It's silent for a second again and you can feel the bridge about to break...anyyy second now.

"I'm gonna fight you now."

Three...

Logan chuckles, amused at the fact that Wade would even suggest he could getaway with something like that

Two..

And mid-sentence, Wade's fists make contact with Logan's nose.

One.

You scoot back, the car shaking as Wades head makes contact with hr car door and then the radio, each smack of his skull changing the station.

“Omg nooo don’t kill each other you’re both so hot and sexy and cool, nooo.” You yelp, your false concerned pleas falling on deaf ears.

And once the blood from each blow splatters against your face, you feel a bit opted to join in. Besides, he hurt your feelings, he deserved a little ass-kicking.

Question, when three seemingly frustrated and regenerative assholes get into a car fight with tensions, sexual or otherwise, that have been building for about 2 days now, what happens?

You slip past the pair of claws that just barely nick your side as you shove the driver's seat forward, effectively trapping Logan for a moment.

"You did this on purpose! You honry fuck!" Wade shouts, using his elbow to crack your skull and shoved you right back into your spot behind them before you can respond. Logan pushed the seat back again, now trapping you as his claws stabbed through the cushion, impalling you through the back of the seat.

"FUCK! This isn't how this was supposed to pan out in my head!" You yelp, gasping when the claws leave you feeling the worst kind of empty.

"I didn't even do anything he's the one that lied!" You seethe, using the heel of your boot to kick Wade's side in, the crack of bones bringing you much satisfaction.

"IT WAS AN EDUCATED WISH!" He defends, unloading about 3 bullets into your sternum before kicking Logan out the winsheild, glass falling inside and out.

You take a gulp of air, digging the bullet out before locking your arm around Wade's neck and the passenger seat headrest.

"You red-clad cunt! I was supposed to rizz him up, fuck him, and ride off into the sunset with my rugged fucking mountain of a man and you RUINED IT!" You shout, releasing Wade when six separate knives dig right back into you.

Taking the chance, you throw the back of your head at his face before pulling his claws from out your sides and kicking Wade's chest in. Looks like legs were your strong suit today!

"You said you didn't wanna fill any holes, yet here we are!" You growl in frustration, turning back around to shove your boot heel into this man's rock-hard chest.

He only grabs your ankle, pulling you forward, once again skewered by his claws. Your position is less than ideal, any other angle would for sure look l like you were on the receiving end of some damn good strokes.

And there it is, that stupid bloodied grin he gives while he watches your eyes squeeze shut and your head tilt back. A light, yet pained swear left your bloodied lips and the gasp that leaves your lungs when his claws retracted was just as erotic as you'd imagine.

"Would've been better off fucking at this point huh?" You joke, seeing Wade creep up behind the backseat door.

"Maybe." He responds a bit coy, the tension only dying down for a fraction of a second before you're at each other's throats again.

With your help, Wade is right back in the car, and the three of you are now waiting for the next move. Logan's up against the dash, Wade is heaving against the backseat by your side, the two of you manspreading with a dangerously hungry look directed at the man in yellow.

"This is pointless. We're gonna be here for hours regenerating and fucking each other up, but damn if it isn't fun." you chuckle, letting your head lull back against the completely destroyed headrest.

"So what do you suggest, 'sweetheart'," Logan growls, using your little pet name from earlier.

"Oh I think you know very well what I suggest, but I'm starting to believe you just can get it up can you peepaw?" You insult, Logan's face contorting in a sneer.

There's another silence, your gaze locked with Logan's as you both teeter on the edge of regular frustration and the urge to rip each other's clothes off. This fuckers love language was definitely acts of playful violence...if playful meant an absolute bloodbath in this stupid-ass honda odyssey.

"I feel like there's some underlying tension here that I definitely wanna be a part of.

"You shut the fuck up" You speak simultaneously, Wade doing just that.

"So what'll it be, bub. Fuck me or fight me?" You mock, seeing that smile right back on his face.

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

You would like to say that the remainder of the day, into the night, all the way into the wee hours of the morning were spent furiously love-making in the bloody and battered Honda, but that would only be half the truth.

The moonlight had shone so brightly down on the three of you, each movement calculated, as you continued to punch, stab, pick and damn near fuck each other in the enclosed space.

At one point your hands were pinned to the dented dashboard, Logan slotted between your legs, Wade right behind your oddly bent body....accept Wade's gun was at the small of your back and Logan had his hand wrapped tightly around your throat as your legs squeezed as tight as possible.

And at another, you'd been hovering above Logan, hands at his chest while Wade had a fistful of your hair, his grip lethal... a-although your hands were only at his chest cause you were double-fisting two knives that you had wedged to the hilt into each to his pectorals...and Wade was also pulling your hair to get a better angle at your chest since he deemed it was "only fair" considering you were going the same to the man beneath you.

It had only gotten worse, your comments ranging from rude to just plain nasty, and the farther along you went in the night....strangely enough, the better everything felt. The slight accidental/intentional grind of your hips against Logans, or the way you just so happened to fall back into Wade's chest, your bodies pressed so close together you could feel each breath you both took.

"Oh you just don't know when to quit, do you honey?" Logan grumbles, throwing you off him, your positions quickly switch.

"Not in my vocabulary sweetheart." You shoot back, gasping when Wade grips your hair again.

"Yeah, thought you were seeing the pattern ready peanut, she's hard to break." He chuckles, a filthy smile making its way over your bloodied face.

You were practically sandwiched, Wade behind you, his chest to your back, and your legs just barely make room for Logan who was kneeling one leg on the backseat, the other slightly off the edge.

"This is a little unfair don't you think? Feels like I'm about to get tag-teamed." You joke, the moonlight illuminating the current position just enough.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You're sick." Logan scoffs, only feeding into your slight delusions.

"Yeah, I might be sick but you're a hypocrite, You want it too, don't you? I know for sure Wade does, 'cause that's definitely not his gun on my ass." You shoot back, body and brain stirring from the hours of activities.

He doesn't say anything, just tightens he grip he has on your hips.

“Cmonnn, we had our nice,” you glance over at the destroyed radio, your hopes of trying to get the time seemingly crushed.

“We’ll say 9 hours give or take, we’ve already been fighting and none of us are really satisfied.”

You can feel Wade adjust, his hands now secure at your shoulders, massaging the small of your neck with his thumbs.

“We all know what’s gonna solve that and we can put this whole debacle behind us.” You coax, your hips rolling a bit to meet his and he turn his head, jaw working as if he was seriously considering the offer.

And with a finally huff what really sounded more like a growl of last restrained, he’s on you.

——————————————————————-

YES IM MAKING A PART TWO YES THERE WILL BE SMUT BECAUSE WTF YALL. UHHH HOPE YOU ENJOY LMK IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED I. THE NEXT PART!

[reidmarieprentiss]

Moving Forward

Summary: Spencer's insecurities manifest themselves in a nasty way, leading to the demise of your relationship. Can he fix it?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, flashbacks, fighting, crying, arguing, mistrust in partner, gaslighting, break up, happy ending, use of Y/N

Word count: 7.5k

a/n: spencer reid is not a bad man !! but he is still just a man

main masterlist

Present

Derek's brow furrowed as he nudged Spencer with his elbow, his eyes fixated on the scene unfolding before them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, pretty boy," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and disbelief. "Isn't that your girlfriend?"

Spencer's gaze followed Derek's, landing on you. There you were, seated at a cozy table in the dimly lit restaurant, your laughter ringing out as you leaned closer to the person across from you. The person who was most definitely not Spencer. His heart tightened in his chest as he watched you, the familiarity of your smile now directed at someone else, someone who wasn’t him.

"Not anymore," Spencer replied, his voice flat, though a subtle tremor betrayed the emotions he was fighting to keep under wraps. He forced himself to look away, focusing on a random spot on the wall instead of the painful image of you with someone new.

Derek shot him a sideways glance, his brow still creased with confusion. "What? I thought you two were solid?" His tone was cautious, as if he was treading on fragile ground.

Emily, who had been silent up until now, leaned in, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and sympathy. "The operative word there being ‘were’?" she asked gently, seeking confirmation.

Spencer gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Things changed."

For a moment, there was a heavy silence between them, the weight of the situation sinking in. Derek and Emily exchanged a look, both of them unsure of how to respond. They had seen Spencer go through so much, and this seemed like another cruel twist of fate.

Finally, Derek let out a sigh, clapping a reassuring hand on Spencer's shoulder. "You know we're here for you, right? Whatever you need, man."

Emily nodded in agreement, her eyes soft with understanding. "You don’t have to go through this alone, Spencer. We’re your family."

Spencer offered them a small, appreciative smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Thanks," he said quietly, his gaze once again drifting to where you sat, laughing and unaware of the turmoil just a few tables away. 

The sight was like a dagger to his heart, but he forced himself to look away again, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. He had to be strong, even if it felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling away.

Spencer didn't feel like he deserved the comfort his friends were providing him currently, he was the one who ruined things between the two of you. 

—

Six months ago...

You stood in your small kitchen, the phone pressed to your ear as you listened to the familiar, upbeat tone of Penelope Garcia. "Beautiful tech genius speaking, how may I help you, gorgeous?" she answered, her voice as bright as ever. It was her way of bringing a bit of lightness into every conversation, and usually, it worked. But today, despite the warmth in her greeting, you couldn't shake the tightness in your chest.

"Hey, Pen," you responded, forcing a laugh even though your heart felt like it was being squeezed. The words tasted bitter as you prepared to ask the question you had grown to hate. "Is Spencer busy right now?"

You loathed asking that question. It had become a routine, a ritual almost, to call Penelope and ask about Spencer’s whereabouts because he hadn’t bothered to tell you himself. It was embarrassing, really, that you had to rely on his colleague to know what your own boyfriend was up to. The person he should have been sharing his life with.

There was a slight pause on the other end, and then you heard it—the pity in Penelope's voice that you dreaded so much. "Oh, honey," she said softly, her tone drenched in sympathy. "The team left a few hours ago on a case."

"Oh," you managed to say, but your voice cracked, betraying the tears that were already threatening to spill over. You sniffled, trying to keep it together, but the ache in your chest only grew sharper. "Can you tell me where they went?"

"Yeah, sweetie, they’re in Kansas," Penelope replied gently, and you could almost feel her reaching out to hug you through the phone.

"Thanks, Pen," you whispered, your throat tight as you fought to keep the tears at bay.

"Of course, take care, okay?" Penelope's concern was evident, but there was nothing she could do from where she was. She had seen too much to offer false hope, but she still cared enough to try to comfort you in any way she could.

You hung up, standing there in the silence of your kitchen, the reality of the situation washing over you like a cold wave. It had been like this for a couple of months now—Spencer leaving without a word, not feeling the need to let you know when he and the team were swept away on a case. The man who once called you just to say goodnight was now a distant figure, more involved in his work than in your relationship.

The last time you had confronted him about it, his response had cut deeper than you ever expected. “We’ve been together for over a year, Y/N. Do you not trust me? Why do you have to be on top of me constantly?” His words echoed in your mind, the memory still fresh and painful.

“Spencer… I just like to know where you are and that you’re safe," you had explained, your voice tinged with desperation as you tried to make him understand. "What if something happens to me or you, or someone we love, and I don’t know where you are or how to get a hold of you?”

But instead of understanding, Spencer had just looked at you with frustration in his eyes, as if your concerns were an inconvenience to him. “I don’t understand why you need to know where I am 24/7,” he had said, his tone dismissive.

And so it had continued—this growing distance between you, each day a little more painful than the last. Now, as you stood there with tears slipping down your cheeks, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be. If the man you loved was slipping away, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

—

Present 

To anyone watching, you and your date looked like the picture of a perfect evening. The two of you sat across from each other at a small, candlelit table in the charming bistro, the flickering glow casting warm, soft shadows over your faces. You smiled at all the right moments, nodded thoughtfully as they spoke, and even laughed at their jokes. The waiter who passed by with a tray of desserts might have thought you were a couple deeply engrossed in each other, enjoying the bliss of a night out.

But inside, you felt nothing. It was as if a thick, impenetrable wall had gone up around your heart, leaving you detached from everything that was happening. You went through the motions—smiling, nodding, making polite conversation—but it was all a performance, a carefully crafted facade that hid the emptiness gnawing at you from within.

Your date was saying something funny, and you forced another laugh, just loud enough to seem genuine. They smiled back, clearly pleased with themselves, and you returned the gesture with a bright, practiced smile. You knew how to do this—how to pretend everything was fine, how to play the role of someone who was fully engaged in the moment. But underneath that polished exterior, you were numb, a hollow shell left behind after months of emotional exhaustion.

The memory of Spencer loomed large in your mind, a constant, oppressive presence that wouldn’t leave you alone. His cold words, his dismissal, the way he had slowly pushed you out of his life until you were left with nothing but your own loneliness—it all haunted you, a shadow you couldn’t escape. And now, sitting here with someone who was kind and attentive, you realized how far away you still were from truly moving on.

Your date reached across the table, lightly touching your hand, and you didn’t flinch. Instead, you smiled softly and let your fingers curl around theirs, mimicking the gesture of affection as if it were second nature. They seemed to take comfort in it, their face lighting up with hope, and you felt a pang of guilt for leading them on, even though it wasn’t intentional.

You could feel their eyes on you, searching for that connection, that spark that should have been there. But there was nothing—no flutter of excitement, no warmth in your chest, just the cold, empty numbness that had taken up residence in your soul. 

The conversation continued, your responses automatic and well-practiced, but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in the past, replaying moments you wished you could forget. You knew you should be present, that you should give this person the chance they deserved, but the weight of your own numbness was too much to overcome.

And so the evening went on, the two of you laughing, smiling, and talking, while the truth remained hidden beneath the surface. To anyone watching, it looked like you were having a wonderful time. But only you knew the reality—that you were just faking it, lost in a world of your own, desperately trying to feel something, anything, but unable to break free from the numb shell Spencer had left behind.

—

Four months ago...

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. You stood in the middle of the living room, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if that would somehow shield you from the pain you knew was coming. Spencer was on the opposite side, his posture rigid, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion. This wasn’t the first argument you’d had recently, but it was certainly the worst.

“Spencer, I’m not trying to control you!” you pleaded, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “I just want to know what’s going on in your life! I want to be a part of it, like I used to be.”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that screamed exasperation. “You say that, but it feels like you’re suffocating me, Y/N. Every time I turn around, it’s another question about where I am, who I’m with, what I’m doing. It’s too much.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the sting of them cutting deeper than you’d expected. “I just want to feel like I matter to you,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “Like this relationship still matters to you.”

Spencer’s face softened for a moment, but the frustration was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. “Of course, you matter to me,” he said, though the words lacked the warmth and sincerity you so desperately needed to hear. “But you’re making this so hard, Y/N. Every time we talk, it turns into an argument.”

“Because you keep shutting me out!” you shot back, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “You don’t tell me anything anymore! I’m the last person to know when you’re leaving, when you’re coming back. It’s like I don’t even exist to you when you’re at work!”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer replied, his tone growing defensive. “You know how demanding my job is. I don’t have time to check in constantly.”

“I’m not asking for constant check-ins,” you retorted, the frustration bubbling over now. “I’m asking for you to care enough to let me in! To let me know when something’s wrong, or when you’re going to be gone for days on end. I’m your partner, Spencer, or at least I thought I was.”

The silence that followed your words was deafening. Spencer looked away, his jaw clenched, as if he was trying to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between wanting to comfort you and wanting to pull away.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. “Maybe… maybe we need some space,” he suggested, each word like a dagger to your heart.

“Space?” you echoed, the word foreign and terrifying. “You think that’s going to fix this?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “But I do know that what we’re doing right now isn’t working.”

You stared at him, the man you loved more than anything, and felt the ground shift beneath you. This wasn’t just an argument; this was the beginning of something you had feared for months. The beginning of the end.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice breaking as the tears finally spilled over, “please don’t do this. We can figure it out, we can—”

“I’m not saying we’re breaking up,” Spencer interrupted, though his tone did little to reassure you. “I just… I need to think. I need to figure out what’s going on with me, with us.”

You nodded, though the movement felt hollow. “Okay,” you whispered, even though every fiber of your being was screaming that it wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay.

Without another word, Spencer turned and left the room, leaving you standing there, alone, the silence of the apartment pressing in on you like a suffocating weight. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to breathe again.

—

Present 

Spencer sat at a table near the back of the bistro, his eyes locked onto you from across the room. The soft hum of conversation and clinking of silverware faded into the background as he watched you laugh, your head tilting slightly as you shared a light moment with your date. Your hand was resting on the table, fingers intertwined with theirs, and the sight sent a sharp, searing pain through his chest, like a hot knife twisting deeper with every second that passed.

Derek and Emily sat on either side of him, their expressions filled with concern as they noticed his focus on you. It hadn’t taken long for them to spot you when they walked in, and they had exchanged uneasy glances, silently debating whether or not they should suggest leaving. But Spencer had insisted it was fine, forcing a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He’d said it didn’t bother him, that it was no big deal, but the truth was a far cry from that casual dismissal.

“Spencer,” Emily had whispered, leaning in close so only he could hear, “we can go somewhere else. It’s not a problem.”

But Spencer had shaken his head, his gaze never leaving you. “No, really, it’s fine,” he had replied, his voice steady, though the turmoil inside him was anything but. He needed to see this, to witness how your date went, as if punishing himself by watching you with someone else would somehow make up for the mistakes he had made. Not that he’d admitted that to Derek and Emily. They would never understand the twisted logic he was following, the way he felt like he deserved every ounce of the pain that was currently eating him alive.

It was ironic, really. He had once hated the thought of you tracking his every move, of you wanting to know where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing. It had suffocated him, made him feel like he was being controlled, watched over like a child. But now, here he was, insisting on staying in this very restaurant just to watch you on a date with someone else—because he had pushed you away, because he had been the one to break up with you.

And now, as he watched you smile at someone else, someone who was clearly making you happy, Spencer felt the full weight of his regret crash down on him. He had thought he needed space, thought that pushing you away would give him the clarity he so desperately sought. But instead, all he had done was lose you, and now he was faced with the brutal reality of what that meant.

You looked so radiant as you sat there, the candlelight reflecting off your eyes, your laughter light and genuine as you leaned closer to your date. It was a sound that used to fill his own life with warmth, a sound he had taken for granted. Now, it felt like a distant memory, something he could only watch from afar as someone else got to experience it.

He didn’t realize he was gripping his fork so tightly until Derek nudged him, snapping him out of his trance. “You sure you’re okay, man?” Derek asked, his voice low and cautious, as if he were afraid to push too hard.

Spencer forced himself to nod, though the tightness in his throat made it difficult to speak. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he managed, though the words were hollow. He wasn’t fine, not even close, but admitting that would mean facing the depth of his mistake, and he wasn’t ready for that—not yet.

Emily exchanged another worried glance with Derek, but they both respected Spencer’s decision to stay, even if they didn’t understand it. They made small talk, trying to distract him, but Spencer’s attention kept drifting back to you. Every time he saw your fingers intertwined with your date’s, a fresh wave of jealousy and regret washed over him, threatening to drown him in its intensity.

He had never imagined it would feel like this, watching you move on with someone else. The emptiness, the burning jealousy, the sharp pang of regret—it was all more than he had anticipated. And the worst part was that he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

As your date reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture so intimate and tender, Spencer felt something inside him crack. He had once been the one to do that, to touch you like that, to make you laugh like that. And now, he had thrown it all away.

The irony was unbearable. He had been so desperate to keep his freedom, to avoid feeling trapped, and now he was the one imprisoned—imprisoned by the sight of you with someone else, knowing he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

—

Three months ago…

You lay in bed, the phone pressed to your ear as you listened to the familiar, comforting voice on the other end. "Supreme goddess of gadgets, how may I help you?" Penelope answered, her usual cheerfulness evident, though there was a faint hesitation in her tone, as if she already knew what was coming.

"Hey, Pen…" Your voice was weak, almost defeated. You could barely muster the energy to speak, the weight of everything crushing you from the inside out.

There was a brief pause before Penelope responded, her voice softer now. "Y/N… hi, how are you?" Her question was gentle, cautious, as if she were afraid of what your answer might be.

"Surviving," you replied, the word feeling like a lie even as it left your lips. "Um, you know what I’m going to ask."

A heavy silence followed your words, the kind that made your heart sink deeper into the pit of despair you had been living in for months. Finally, Penelope spoke, her voice filled with regret. "I do, sweetie… He asked me not to tell you anything. I’m so sorry."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. You managed to choke out a quick "Thanks, Pen," before you hung up, not wanting her to hear the sob that was already clawing its way up your throat. 

As soon as the line went dead, you let it out—a heart-wrenching cry that seemed to come from the very depths of your soul. You curled up on your bed, clutching the pillow as if it could somehow hold you together while everything else in your life was falling apart. The tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless, as the reality of your situation washed over you in waves of pain.

Hours later, Spencer came home, his presence filling the room with an unbearable tension. "Space" had ended just last week, but things had not returned to normal—far from it. He walked in, glanced at you briefly, and his expression was cold, detached, as if he didn’t even recognize the woman lying in bed, broken and defeated.

“This can’t continue,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth or affection. It was a statement, not a question, and you knew he had already made up his mind.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The numbness had taken over, a merciful shield against the pain that had consumed you for so long. You stared at the ceiling, your eyes glassy and vacant, as if you were no longer truly present in your own life.

Spencer’s next words were like nails in the coffin of your relationship. “You and me? Done. You calling and checking in on me like I’m a fucking child? Done. I want you out. This is still my apartment.”

His words hung in the air, each one driving the knife deeper into your heart. But you just nodded, your body moving on autopilot because your mind was too shattered to do anything else. You had known this was coming, had felt it creeping up on you like a dark cloud ready to unleash a storm. But knowing hadn’t made it any easier.

Without another word, Spencer turned and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence that followed. You didn’t move. You didn’t cry. You just lay there, feeling as though a part of you had died, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

And in that moment, you realized that the person you had once loved more than anything was truly gone, and there was no getting him back.

—

Present 

You stand from the table, your heart heavy and your mind made up. This evening was never going to be what either of you hoped for, and you knew it was time to go home, to retreat into the solitude that had become your only solace. You had no illusions about what the rest of the night would hold—probably a bottle of wine, more than you should drink alone, and a sad movie to keep you company as you cried over the pieces of your broken heart.

As you turned to push in your chair, your eyes caught sight of something—or rather, someone—that stopped you cold. There, across the room, was Spencer. His familiar form sat rigid at a table, flanked by Derek and Emily, but it was his eyes that rooted you to the spot. Those eyes that had once brought you warmth and comfort, that had been the anchor in your life, now held an emotion you’d never seen in them before. It was raw, intense, and so deeply conflicted that it sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, the world around you faded, and all you could see were those eyes—eyes that had once looked at you with such love, now filled with something else entirely. Regret? Jealousy? Pain? You couldn’t quite place it, but it was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat, your heart lurching painfully in your chest.

Before you could think too long about what you were seeing, your date's hand gently rested on your lower back, pulling you back into the present. The warmth of their touch contrasted sharply with the cold, hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. They guided you out of the bistro, their hand steady as they led you toward the door, completely unaware of the storm that had just passed through your mind.

You didn’t look back, though every part of you wanted to. The urge to turn around, to meet Spencer’s eyes one more time and maybe, just maybe, understand what was swirling in them, was overwhelming. But you kept moving forward, your body on autopilot as you stepped out into the cool night air, leaving behind the painful memories and the man who had once meant everything to you.

As you walked away, the noise of the city filled the void where your thoughts should have been, but you couldn’t shake the image of Spencer’s eyes from your mind. Even as your date tried to engage you in conversation, their words fell on deaf ears. All you could think about was the look in Spencer’s eyes and how, for the first time, you had seen something in them that you hadn’t before—something that made you wonder if he, too, was feeling the sting of the choices he had made.

—

“I’ll be back,” Spencer said abruptly, his voice tinged with urgency as he stood up from the table. He didn’t wait for a response from Derek or Emily, who exchanged worried glances, their faces mirroring a mix of empathy and concern. They both knew how deeply Spencer had been affected by the breakup, and while they wanted to support him, they weren’t sure if following you was the healthiest choice. But Spencer was already moving, weaving through the tables with a determined stride, leaving his friends to watch helplessly as he made his way toward the exit.

Outside, the cool night air hit Spencer like a splash of cold water, sharpening his senses as he scanned the street for you. His heart pounded in his chest, the knot of anxiety tightening with every passing second. Then, he spotted you a short distance away, saying goodbye to your date. The two of you stood under the soft glow of a streetlamp, exchanging polite farewells, and Spencer watched as your date smiled kindly before turning to walk away. The knot in his chest loosened just a fraction, relief mingling with the anxiety that still churned within him.

He knew this was his moment. If he didn’t speak to you now, he might never get the chance again. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Spencer took a deep breath and walked toward you, his heart racing as he rehearsed what he would say in his mind. But when he reached you, all those carefully planned words evaporated, leaving him standing there, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice softer than he intended, but it carried enough weight to make you stop in your tracks. You looked up so quickly, your eyes wide with surprise and something else—something that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat. The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded with everything unsaid.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, stunned, as if you couldn’t quite believe he was really there in front of you. The last time you had seen him, it had been under such different circumstances, and now here he was, the same man yet somehow different. The memories of your last encounter flashed through your mind, bringing with them a flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Hi,” Spencer tried again, his voice trembling slightly as he searched your face for any sign of how you were feeling. He could see the confusion, the hurt, the questions all swirling in your eyes, but you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, as if you were trying to make sense of why he was standing in front of you now, after all this time.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone pleading, as if he were afraid you might turn and walk away before he had the chance to explain himself.

—

A year ago…

“Spencer, stop moving!” you laughed, your voice bubbling with amusement as you tried to steady his hand. He squirmed slightly in his seat, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“It tickles!” he protested, his voice filled with mock indignation as he wiggled his fingers in your grasp.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I don’t think you can be tickled on your nails, Spencer. You’re being dramatic.”

He huffed teasingly, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. “I don’t see why you needed to paint my nails,” he said, though there was no real annoyance in his tone—just the warm affection that always colored your playful moments together.

“Because,” you replied, focusing on applying the nail polish with care, “I got a new color, and my nails look too pretty to take it off right now. So you’re the lucky volunteer.”

Spencer watched you as you worked, the gentle concentration on your face making his heart swell with warmth. He loved these quiet, silly moments with you, where the world seemed to fade away and all that mattered was the laughter and lightness you brought into his life.

��Well, I’m honored,” Spencer said with a mockingly serious tone, though his eyes betrayed the laughter he was holding back. “But what if they look better than yours?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Then I’ll have to break up with you,” you teased right back, trying to keep a straight face.

“Don’t even joke about that! I’d die without you!” Spencer exclaimed dramatically, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“Oh, shush,” you replied, smiling so big that you thought your heart might burst from how much you loved him.

“I’m serious,” he continued, his voice softening as he looked at you with all the love in the world. “If they look better than yours, you have to stay with me, despite the jealousy. I love you too much to let you leave.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out to gently cup his face. “I would never leave you, Spence.”

“Ditto,” he said, his voice full of warmth and sincerity.

You leaned in for a sweet, smiley kiss, sealing the promise between you both. It was a kiss filled with love, with the kind of joy that made everything else fade away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken vow that you would always be there for each other, no matter what.

—

Present

You nodded slowly, still unable to find your voice. The shock of seeing him again, the man who had left you so broken, was enough to leave you speechless. But there was something in his eyes, something raw and vulnerable, that made you pause. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you now, with an intensity you hadn’t seen in so long, that made you want to hear him out.

Without another word, Spencer gestured toward a nearby bench, and you followed him silently, your mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter. As you sat down, the distance between you feeling both too close and too far, you wondered what he could possibly say that would change anything. But you knew you had to hear it, whatever it was, because despite everything, a part of you still needed closure—or maybe, deep down, you hoped for something more.

Spencer sat beside you, the tension between the two of you almost tangible as he struggled to find the right words. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and regret, a chaotic mess that made it nearly impossible to articulate what he was feeling. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t even thought about what he would do if he ever saw you again. He had tried to put you out of his mind, to bury the pain and guilt deep inside, because it was easier than facing what he had done.

But now, sitting next to you, the reality of his actions weighed on him like a heavy stone, and he could see the hurt and anger in your eyes. You were waiting for him to speak, but the silence stretched on, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

Finally, your patience snapped. “What do you want?” you asked, your voice sharp and cutting, a clear sign of the anger brewing inside you.

Spencer flinched at your tone, the pain of your words like a physical blow. “I don’t know, honestly,” he admitted, his voice weak and uncertain.

“Bye,” you said coldly, turning to leave, the finality in your tone making it clear you were done with this conversation.

Panic surged through Spencer, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, desperate to keep you from walking away. “No, Y/N, wait,” he pleaded, his voice trembling.

But you quickly shook off his touch, anger flaring in your eyes. “You absolutely do not get to touch me,” you snapped, your voice hard as steel.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer stammered, his hand dropping to his side, feeling the sting of rejection.

“For touching me or something else?” you demanded, your voice laced with bitterness.

“Everything,” he whispered, his eyes filled with remorse.

You let out a harsh, humorless laugh, the sound bitter in the quiet night air. “Well, since you clearly don’t know what to say, let me start,” you said, finding your voice with a strength that surprised even you. Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly held up your hand, silencing him. “It’s my turn to speak, do not interrupt me.” He nodded, his heart sinking as he braced himself for the words he knew were coming.

“I cared about you, Spencer,” you began, your voice steady but filled with the weight of all the pain you had been carrying. “I thought you cared about me too. All I ever wanted was to be a first thought, but instead, I was an afterthought. Wanting to know when my partner—and my roommate—was going to be in a different state doesn’t seem like a lot to ask.”

Spencer’s throat tightened as he listened, the truth of your words cutting him to the core. But he knew better than to speak, knew that you deserved this moment to say everything he had never let you say before.

“And then,” you continued, your voice growing more intense, “to go and tell your coworker—someone I considered a friend—not to tell me anything about you anymore? God, that’s so fucking mean, Spencer. You were mean to me.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, proud that you hadn’t let the tears fall, even though they were threatening to spill over. “I never once accused you of cheating, or even thought that you were doing anything behind my back,” you said, your voice softer now, but no less filled with hurt. “I didn’t ask for constant attention or updates. I didn’t yell at you, belittle you, or blame you. All I wanted was for you to care about me. And you didn’t.”

Spencer felt the shame wash over him, the weight of your words pressing down on him until he thought he might break. But he stayed silent, letting you continue, because you deserved to have your say.

“And yet, you dragged out the end of our relationship instead of having the decency to put me out of my misery,” you said, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “I wanted to fix things—as pathetic as that feels now—I wanted to work it out with you. But it’s clear now that you always knew the end was coming.”

Spencer’s heart shattered at your words, the realization of how deeply he had hurt you hitting him like a freight train. He had been so wrapped up in his own fears and insecurities that he had never truly considered the impact his actions were having on you. And now, hearing you lay it all out so plainly, he was struck by the enormity of what he had lost.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, but you shook your head, cutting him off once more.

“No, Spencer,” you said, your voice firm, the strength in it catching him off guard. “I don’t need an apology. I needed you to be there when it mattered, and you weren’t. So, tell me, why weren’t you there?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and piercing, demanding an answer that Spencer wasn’t sure he could give. He looked at you, seeing the hurt and anger in your eyes, the way you stood there waiting, needing an explanation that could somehow make sense of the pain he had caused.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tried to find the words. But how could he explain the mess inside his head, the way his fears and insecurities had twisted everything? How could he tell you that he had been too wrapped up in his own struggles to see what he was doing to you?

“I…” he began, his voice faltering as he searched for something, anything, that would make this right. But nothing came. The excuses he had told himself for so long now felt hollow and pathetic in the face of your unwavering gaze.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the truth, the only thing he could offer. “I was… scared. Of losing myself, of losing control. I thought… I thought I needed space to figure things out, but all I did was push you away. I wasn’t there because I was too wrapped up in my own head to see what I was doing to you.”

You stared at him, the admission doing little to soften the anger that burned in your chest. “You were scared?” you repeated, incredulity lacing your tone. “And you think that’s an excuse? Spencer, I was scared too. I was terrified of losing you, of watching you slip away without understanding why. But I didn’t shut you out. I didn’t abandon you when things got tough.”

Spencer felt the weight of your words like a punch to the gut. “I know,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his guilt. “I know I failed you. I don’t have an excuse, Y/N. I was selfish, and I hurt you. And I’m so, so sorry.”

But even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t enough. They couldn’t undo the damage that had been done, couldn’t erase the pain he had caused. He had failed you when it mattered most, and now he was standing here, faced with the wreckage of what once was.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to keep the tears that were threatening at bay. “Sorry isn’t enough, Spencer,” you said, your voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “It won’t change what happened, it won’t bring back the trust that was broken. I needed you, and you weren’t there. And now… now we both have to live with that.”

Spencer’s heart shattered at your words, the finality in them like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to reach out, to somehow pull you back from the edge, but he knew he had no right. He had lost that right the moment he chose to walk away instead of fighting for what you had.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But if I could go back… if I could do it all over again, I would. I would be there for you, I would fight for you. I’d give anything to make it right.”

But you shook your head, the sadness in your eyes cutting deeper than any words ever could. “You can’t go back, Spencer. Neither of us can. We can only move forward.”

“Together?” he asked, his voice filled with a desperate hope.

“Are you serious?” you replied, incredulity and hurt lacing your tone. With that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there alone with the weight of his regrets.

—

A year ago…

You walked into the apartment after an extremely grueling day at work, your body aching for the comfort of the couch and the sweet relief of doing absolutely nothing. As soon as you opened the door, however, you were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of your favorite meal wafting through the air. The familiar scent brought an instant smile to your face, and you couldn’t help but follow your nose like a cartoon character, eagerly tracing the delicious smell to the kitchen.

There, you found your adorable boyfriend, Spencer, fussing over pots and pans, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked to perfect the meal. The sight of him, so intent on making everything just right, made your heart swell with love.

“Need some help, handsome?” you asked, leaning against the doorway with a soft smile.

Spencer jumped slightly, his concentration momentarily broken. “Huh? What? No! Go sit down, relax, I got this,” he insisted, his voice filled with warmth and determination.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his insistence. “Okay, baby. Thank you,” you said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, which brought a pleased smile to his face.

With that, you made your way to the couch, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. Moments later, Spencer joined you, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. On it were two plates of your favorite food, two glasses of wine, and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. The thoughtful gesture took your breath away.

“Spence… what is all of this for?” you asked, your voice tinged with surprise and emotion.

Spencer set the tray down gently and looked at you with those kind, caring eyes that always seemed to see right through to your soul. “You seemed off when you called earlier,” he explained, his voice soft and full of concern. “I figured you were having a hard day and wanted to treat you.”

Your eyes welled up with happy tears, the overwhelming love you felt for him making your heart flutter. “I love you so much, do you know that?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Spencer’s face lit up with a playful grin as he teased, “I don’t think I do. Can you tell me a hundred more times?”

You giggled, leaning closer to him. “How about a million?” you offered, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Spencer’s smile grew even wider as he leaned in for a sweet, tender kiss. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured against your lips, and in that moment, all the stress and exhaustion of your day melted away, leaving only the warmth of his love.

—

A month later… 

You walked into the coffee shop down the street from your office, savoring the familiar comfort of your Thursday morning routine. It was your little treat to yourself, a pick-me-up to help push you through the final stretch before the weekend. As you stepped inside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloped you, instantly soothing some of the residual stress from the workweek.

You were lost in thought, mentally debating whether to stick with your usual order or try something new, when you felt a gentle bump against your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” a familiar voice apologized.

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat when you recognized him. “Spencer?” you said, the surprise evident in your voice.

He offered you a small, almost shy smile, as if he were seeing you for the first time. “Hello, stranger. My name is Spencer Reid,” he said, extending his hand as if introducing himself to someone he hadn’t met before. “I’m terribly sorry I bumped into you. Allow me to buy your coffee?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his playful formality. “What are you doing? Did you hit your head?” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice.

Spencer shook his head, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “No, ma’am,” he replied, his tone light. “I’m starting fresh. Can only move forward, right?”

“Right…” you echoed, the words resonating with a meaning that made your heart flutter a bit, some of the cobwebs that had gathered around it beginning to fall away. There was something about this new approach of his that caught you off guard, but in a good way, like a breath of fresh air after a long winter.

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips as you stuck out your hand, playing along. “Y/N,” you introduced yourself, feeling a spark of warmth you hadn’t expected. “Yes, you can buy my coffee. Thank you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened with a mixture of relief and hope as he shook your hand, holding onto it just a moment longer than necessary. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a small glimmer of something you thought you had lost—a sense of possibility, of maybe, just maybe, starting anew.

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