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bisexualiteaa · 24 days

Note

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

#fallout x reader #fallout smut #fallout #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #sole survivor #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #asks

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cherry-leclerc · 17 days

Text

so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really.

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money.

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm.

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once.

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it.

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps.

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades.

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.”

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most.

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek.

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance.

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third.

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another.

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay.

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love.

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were.

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos.

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile.

“One day, then.”

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious.

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms.

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you.

It was perfect.

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you.

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse.

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall.

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band.

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare.

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one.

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart.

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused.

You’re broken hearted.

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain.

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel.

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!”

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you.

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours.

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too.

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay.

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly?

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does.

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine.

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one.

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me.

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten.

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things.

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?”

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken.

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses.

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck?

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London.

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday.

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you.

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever.

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

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beforeimdeceased · 2 months

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ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?

ways to help, daily click, do not support neil

ellie williams x reader

a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think

tags: @astralnymphh

masterlist

…

once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…

okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.

“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.

this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.

many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.

but you were special.

you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.

she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.

you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.

doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.

she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.

once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.

so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…

“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“

“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”

“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.

you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”

she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”

“very.” you respond, smiling.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.

then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.

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lostfracturess · 6 months

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【 ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ 】 ch. 01

"it must be amusing for you." "don't even think for a second that i find it amusing if you get hurt." the seriousness in his tone made you pause. "let's get you home."

x pairing gojo x f!reader (main), fushiguro x f!reader (jjk universe)

x summary you never wanted to become part of the world of jujutsu sorcerers, yet fate had other plans when the one and only satoru gojo took you under his wing at jujutsu high. but as the lines between student and teacher begin to blur, hidden powers surge to life, and a deadly target is set on your head.

x wc 12.5 k

x warnings [18+] this story contains abusive/possessive behavior, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, graphic depictions of violence/injury/combat, character death, suicidal thoughts. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note so exited to start this series!! dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

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You had always known that Gojo Satoru was a sorcerer feared by many. But it wasn't until that moment, when your blade was easily tossed aside by his bare hands, that it really hit you. He stood before you; signature stupid smile playing on his lips. "I knew you had potential."

The satisfaction in his voice clawed at your ego. No, you couldn't let him have that satisfaction. Not after the grueling effort you had put into this fight. Barely able to breathe, you shot back, "Don't talk shit, Gojo. You're not even trying!"

But you had already reached your limits, perhaps even surpassed them. Your legs trembled with exhaustion, threatening to give way beneath you. You fought to keep your composure, leaning on your knees for support instead of collapsing completely. Gojo lowered his gaze and peered down at you through his sunglasses. His voice dripped with irony, "I don't want to hurt you—yet."

His blue eyes captured yours; making your skin crawl. How can anyone be so arrogant.

Your imagination danced on the edge of danger; picturing what it might feel like to wrap your hands around his neck, tightening your grip just a fraction to erase that stupid smile of his before you sank to the ground.

Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara rushed over to you from the side of the training ground. "Are you all right?"

You gathered what strength you had left and straightened up, trying to hide your weakness, though your trembling form betrayed you. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Gojo held out his hand to help you to your feet, his mocking smile still lingering. You hesitated. Eventually, it was Megumi who reached out to you, and you took his hand without a second thought. As you did, Gojo's eyebrow raised slightly, a silent challenge in his stance.

It was only a few days ago that your world collided with this white-haired, self-satisfied man. Since then, everything had changed. Gojo had invited you to join the Tokyo Jujutsu High—a world you'd wanted to avoid at all costs. However, your acceptance of his offer had marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. But it had also revealed your own limitations. Painfully clear.

Somehow you wondered if you should have declined it.

"It's pretty impressive how you've picked all this up by yourself," Megumi's words echoed in your mind. Yet, you couldn't help feeling like a fool.

"I'll do my best to catch up with you as soon as possible," you vowed.

"I'm sure you will," Gojo said, his tone surprisingly gentle. Your gazes locked again, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire world held its breath. There was an unspoken connection—an invisible force drawing you closer to him. But you fought to resist its allure, trying to convince yourself that it was merely a figment of your imagination.

Gojo finally broke the spell and turned away. "Tomorrow, 6 a.m.—cardio training!" There was a hint of a joke in his voice, though it sounded more like an order. Groans and protests filled the air. "Latecomers do an extra lap!" he declared before he disappeared from sight.

"Ugh, that guy!" Nobara huffed. "As if he's ever an early riser himself." You turned towards her.

"He strolls into our training, what, four hours late?" Nobara complained, rolling her eyes. "Then has the audacity to whine that we're the slow ones. Total jerk."

Yuji placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe we should join in—sleep in, stroll in late. He won't even notice."

"Deal!" Nobara agreed eagerly.

Megumi shook his head. "If he catches wind of this, you're dead meat."

They scoffed, dismissing his warning. "Like he'd ever find out."

"Are you scared?" Yuji teased Megumi, giving him a playful nudge.

Megumi finally relented. "Oh, for goodness' sake. Fine, it's a deal. Tomorrow, 8 a.m. sharp."

Nobara countered, grinning mischievously, "Make it ten!"

You did your best to hide the exhaustion racing through your body as the banter between them continued. The adrenaline that fueled your earlier battle with Gojo was fading fast, leaving only the harsh reality of your physical limits. Your legs trembled. The world around you blurred. Your body had reached its breaking point. With a heavy sigh, your strength gave way, and you collapsed to the ground. Gojo's stupid grin still vivid in your mind.

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

Your room felt suffocating after the humbling encounter with Gojo. The four walls closing in as you sought an escape from the restless thoughts in your mind. You couldn't see through his facade, unable to decipher the true meaning behind his words that day—the day he had taken you in and you followed. You blindly followed. You must be utterly foolish, there was no doubt about it.

Despite your best efforts to cast them aside, the thoughts lingered, an ache in your chest that refused to be dismissed. Sleep eluded you; restlessness drove you out of your room. You wandered aimlessly through the quiet corridors in the midnight silence that contrasted sharply with the school's usual chaos.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you brewed a late-night cup of strong coffee. With each sip, you questioned whether abandoning the fragment of family you had left had been the right desicion. Or, had you blindly entered Satoru Gojo's complicated world in vain? It was a reality where every vulnerability was exposed—a constant reminder of your weakness. Perhaps you weren't capable of saving anyone after all. Was it all a futile endeavor that would ultimately prove Gojo's cautioning correct?

"Little late for a caffeine kick, don't you think?" A voice—all too familiar— broke the stillness.

You turned, heart pounding in your chest, to find Gojo strolling in. There was a weariness in his step. His usually vibrant blue of his eyes dimmed. Shrouded with shadows.

"I suppose I'll be fine", you replied, raising your mug to your lips. "What's your excuse for the midnight stroll?"

Gojo let out a sigh, leaning against the door frame. "Insomnia," he admitted, frustration lacing his words. You took a sip of your coffee, studying the tired lines on his face. "Want one?"

"To worsen the situation?"

"You seem like it couldn't get any worse."

"Charming," he replied, his lips curving into a slight grin. His sharp yet weary eyes locked onto yours, searching and contemplative. After a brief pause, he declined, "Unfortunately, that won't help with the real reason I can't sleep."

"Let me guess—," A sense of unease fluttered in your stomach. "—losing sleep over bearing the title of the world's strongest sorcerer?" You aimed for a playful tone, hoping to cut through the growing tension.

Gojo took a step closer. The weariness on his face becoming more apparent as the gap between you diminished. A soft, teasing chuckle escaped his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. "Imagine thinking that would lose me a wink of sleep."

Oh, he's so full of himself.

Your fingers unconsciously clenched around your cup. "So, what is it then?"

"Oh, it's you, of course, love."

"Don't talk shit." Your pulse quickened, an accelerating undertow as he breached the last remains of distance. His closeness felt almost suffocating in its intensity, every nerve tingling, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from him, a tangible pressure against your skin.

With deliberate intent, he leaned forward, reaching over you to grab a cup. His chest hovering dangerously close to your face. Enveloped by his proximity, your senses were overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne. Your body involuntarily tensed.

"I know what you want to ask." His form towered above you, yet somehow, it felt like he was enveloping you entirely.

"Don't pretend to know me," a brittle edge sharpened your voice; your frustration at his arrogance boiling over. This man had the audacity to act as though he had you all figured out when he knew next to nothing. However, the subtle brush of Gojo's chest against your shoulder as he took the cup was enough to sent a subtle, stomach-churning twist through your abdomen.

He lingered there, gaze unwavering and intensifying as he leaned closer. The closeness of his face—the warmth of his breath against your skin—setting your heart racing. "Oh love, you're an open book to me."

Time seemed to halt.

"We have a lot in common," he remarked, setting his cup down on the counter you leaned against. His fingers grazed yours ever so slightly—a seemingly casual touch that left a lingering sensation. He rested his hands on the countertop, just inches from yours. Capturing you.

"We're not the same." Your gaze narrowed. "I'm not that arrogant."

"Oh, love, who hurt you?" he mocked. "You talk as if there's a dagger where your heart should be."

"You should know that only to well," you shot back.

Gojo's eyes lingered on yours. His jaw clenched, fingers digging into the hardwood of the counter. Why was he like that. Acting like you're his puppet—acting like he knows you will fall for him. But as soon as the first light of day touches the ground, he pulls away.

He broke the silence. "You should get some rest," he advised. "Don't think I'll go easy in tomorrow's training just because you're the rookie here." He began to turn away, But you weren't finished with him.

"Why did you say that to me on that day?"

He paused. His back turned to you. "I just know you."

This man's arrogance is unmatched.

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

A piercing scream shattered the tranquil pre-dawn silence. The urge to crawl back under the covers was strong, but before you could make up your mind, your bedroom door slammed open with an abrupt force.

"It's 6, training time!" Gojo, already dressed in workout attire, radiated a fierce commitment that rippled through his frame.

"What—?" Your groan, still groggy and barely coherent. Boldly, he marched over to you and yanked the covers away.

"Gojo!!!" Indignation flared as you clutched at your scanty pyjama shorts. Now exposed to his gaze. "Privacy!"

He pulled back. His face flickered with amusement. Still enshrouded in sleep, you grabbed the nearest object and flung it at the intruding teacher. Gojo effortlessly dodged the flying missile, as if he had anticipated your reaction.

"Good morning to you too."

You barely restrained yourself from throwing another object his way. Rubbing your eyes in a futile attempt to focus, you were already plotting various ways to metaphorically kill him in your mind. Clearly, he had reverted to his old childish self after his overbearing behavior the previous night.

He closed the gap and gently brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. His order delivered with a flirtatious edge. "Get ready." And, in a blink, he was gone.

What the hell.

Collapsing back onto your bed, a pillow found its way into your embrace, muffling the scream bubbling from your depths.

What's wrong with this man?

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

What's wrong with this man? You thought. Again.

The question ran through your mind, fueling frustration and anger even as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you. Your eyes drifted to Yuji and Nobara, equally sleep-deprived, shuffling the laps around the training ground alongside you in a semi-conscious daze. Despite Gojo's complaints of insomnia just yesterday, his current energy level stood in harsh contrast to your own lethargy.

The sun rose, drenching the training ground in an unforgiving blaze. Heat surged through your head, and you couldn't discern whether it was due to the scorching heat or the onset of a fever. Just as you were on the brink, Gojo tossed each of you a water bottle. He grinned, as if sadistically relishing your collective exhaustion.

Yuji slumped down beside you; his weariness mirroring your own. It was evident that both of you were unaccustomed to the brutal training. Amidst the agony, a strange sense of satisfaction seeped through you as you accepted that this torment was now your daily reality.

"After a romp through the forest, we can wrap up for the day," Gojo declared. He seemed to genuinely relish watching his students push themselves to their physical limits.

"Well—" Megumi stood up, his sturdy presence cutting through the stifling heat. He brushed off his shorts before addressing you.

"Stick with me, and you won't get lost," he offered gently.

"Get lost?"

"The forest route is pretty winding. It's easy to lose track."

"Ah, got it," you replied, though you secretly doubted that a forest in the heart of Tokyo could be all that difficult to navigate. Megumi offered a hand, his smile reassuring. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Gojo's scrutinizing gaze lingering on both of you. As you shifted to meet his eyes, he quickly averted his gaze, leaving a sense of unease. Perhaps it was just your imagination.

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

Fuck.

You were alone. Alone in the forest you thought wouldn't be that difficult to navigate. The irony.

The unexpected toll your lack of stamina took on you was something you hadn't anticipated. How much time had passed since you'd been separated from them? The nagging uncertainty clawed at you as you sank onto a fallen log beside what seemed to be a faint trail through the woods. A heavy moan escaped your lips. "Aw, hell."

"Hold on, guys!" Yuji called out, his voice echoing through the forest, as he realized your absence.

Megumi wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Where did she go?"

"The real question is, how long has she been gone?" Nobara added.

"You two keep moving forward. I'll double back for her," Megumi declared. Without hesitation, he pivoted, retracing the footprints back into the depth of the forest.

Back at the training ground, Yuji and Nobara, their expressions painted with weariness, converged with Gojo. The latter, lounging nonchalantly with a non-alcoholic cocktail perched beside him under a shady umbrella, seemed utterly pleased with himself.

"Asshole," Nobara hissed as she observed him. Yuji quickly filled Gojo in on your misadventure in the forest and Megumi's mission to find you.

"Lost?" Gojo's reply came, unexpectedly zesty as he sprang from his laid-back position. "How can you just lose someone?"

Yuji's eyebrows arched. He couldn't remember Gojo being that enthusiastic the time he got lost in the forest in his early days of training. In fact, Gojo had been seemingly unconcerned back then. He'd wandered aimlessly for hours before eventually escaping the woody maze. Now, witnessing Gojo's fervent reaction to your getting lost, it seemed oddly out of character.

Satoru rubbed the back of his head. His eyebrows furrowed. "I'll go after her."

Navigating through the dense woods—sense of direction completely lost—you aimlessly staggered on. You pondered how the hell you could get stuck in a place like this. Suddenly, a sharp crack of a twig or branch behind you ignited a spark of panic in your bloodstream. You swiveled hastily, twisting your ankle in the process, and tumbled down a slope.

"Carp, Crap, Crap!"

You felt a small stream of blood trickle down your leg, momentarily blurring your vision with discomfort.

This couldn't get any worse.

Leaning back, you assessed your situation, feeling a tidal wave of defeat sweep over you. The forest seemed endless—the amount of time you'd been wandering its dark recesses unclear. The sun, filtering its fading light through the dense leaves, slowly descended toward the horizon. Fatigue washed over you. Heat rose in your skull.

"Just a moment—," you muttered to yourself; fatigue pulling you in.

"What the hell you think you doing?" A voice—achingly familiar—sliced through your hazy awareness. Gradually, your eyes fluttered open.

It got worse.

"Gojo?" Your whisper was frail, barely a ripple in the air.

Of course. It had to be Gojo who found you in that state.

In the next instant, his hand was tenderly pressed against your forehead. His touch causing shivers running through your form as he whispered, "You're burning up."

It was only now that you realized the haze you felt was probably due to a fever setting in. You tried to downplay it. "I got lost," a pathetic excuse for your current dire straits. His eyes closed briefly, releasing a weighted sigh.

"Don't do this to me."

Before you could process his words, he quickly stripped off his jacket. He wrapped it tightly around the bleeding wound on your inner thigh. A wince escaped you as you tried to sit up, desperate to show some semblance of strength.

"I'm fine!" you gasped out. Your swift action rewarded with a searing pain radiating through your skull. At this point, you couldn't decide which was worse—the throbbing headache or the dangerously close proximity of Satoru Gojo's hands between your legs.

"I don't need your help!"

"Oh really?" Gojo's gaze held you prisoner as you strained to remain calm under his unyielding gaze. His fingers clung to your skin—a cruel proximity that made your stomach clench. "You'll have to accept help at some point."

The world seemed to blur for a split second, almost causing you to forget the position of his hands. Your lips parted, but no coherent response found its way out of your throat. A boyish smile played on his lips as he shifted his attention back to securing his jacket more tightly around your injured leg.

"Your ankle is hurt too," he observed, his tone matter-of-fact, though his eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. It must have been quite a show for him to see you in such a vulnerable state. Weakened and wounded. Particularly after your foolish display of capability when you first met—boldly declaring that you didn't need training at his school. Looking back, it was just ridiculous.

"It must be amusing for you."

He looked at you; somewhat hurt. "Don't even think for a second that I find it amusing if you get hurt." The seriousness in his tone that made you pause.

"Let's get you home," he said after a moment. With effortless strength he lifted you into his arms, causing you to instinctively cling to his neck. As he held you, his eyes never left your face, "Are you all right?"

You nodded. However, your eyes shied away from locking with his, since that meant hovering mere inches from his face. You figured it best to avoid straight-up confronting his features, considering your entire form was already securely wrapped in his arms. Perhaps it was the fever, but you allowed your head to rest on his shoulder. You absorbed the comforting warmth he radiated after what felt like an eternity of lying on the frosty moss. His hands held you tightly, as if afraid you might slip through his fingers again. You found yourself pressed even closer to him, finding comfort in his protective embrace.

"Gojo, why—" you began, but before your words could fully form, they were abruptly interrupted by Megumi's appearance.

"Is everything okay?" His voice echoed from above the embankment.

"She's fine." Gojo's reply was swift. For a fleeting second, you thought you heard a mumbled addition, something whispered for his ears alone. "She's fine, she's with me."

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

The next thing you recalled is waking up in an unfamiliar, sterile room. The orange and red glow of the setting sun softly lit the room. As you cautiously sat up, you noticed bandages tightly wrapped around the entirety of your left ankle. Oddly, it didn't hurt, which made you suspect they must've given you some painkiller. Your slightly blurry vision somewhat confirmed that.

A soft voice cuts through your foggy consciousness, drawing your eyes to the familiar white-haired man seated next to your bed. He looks utterly exhausted. His hair disheveled. Faint dark circles underlining his eyes. You can't help but wonder if he's been sleeping right there in that chair, given the casually thrown blanket on its back.

"You're up?" he asked, his voice betraying his weariness.

"Why are you here, Gojo?"

Your question carried more seriousness than you intended. Or perhaps you intended it to be as serious as it appeared. You had wanted to draw a clear line, emphasizing that it wasn't natural for him to sleep next to you—to watch over you the whole day just because you had a fever and a few bruises.

You didn't want him doing what he was doing. You didn't want him—here. You didn't want what it was inflicting.

"Quite the greeting for your hero, don't you think?" He said with a playful smirk.

A heavy silence enveloped the room. You searched his gaze for any hint of why he was there, though deep down you already knew the answer. But you struggled with it, trying to suppress and deny the truth.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" He asked after a pause.

"Answer my question first."

A spark of amusement lit up his tired eyes—a soft chuckle escaped him.

"What?"

Still chuckling, he managed to say, "I really shouldn't be here." He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Pathetic, right?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," he eventually admitted. But you refused to accept such an obvious lie.

"That's not it—," you urged him to reveal the truth. The truth you didn't even want to hear. But somehow you couldn't stop; couldn't hold it in any longer. His raised eyebrow silently dared you to keep going.

"You shouldn't—" you began, but your voice trailed off—your courage waning. Gojo remained silent. His jaw tightened slightly. "—you shouldn't be here."

He starred at you. His gaze was both intimidating and captivating. Part of you wished to escape the intensity of his gaze, while another part craved it, yearned for his eyes to stay on you. Briefly, your eyes flickered to his lips, still curved in that enigmatic grin. You fleetingly wondered if they belonged to someone else. The thought flickered away as quickly as it came, leaving a strange knot in your stomach.

"If you tell me to leave, I'll leave," he muttered.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up from the chair and in a few steps was beside your bed, sitting down next to you. His closeness enveloped you, leaving every possible answer stuck in your throat.

"Do you want me to leave?" His lips were dangerously close to yours. Your heart raced in your chest, drowning out any rational thought. His cold fingers traced a slow, shivering path along your collarbone. No. But you didn't want to give in—not to him.

"I thought you could read me like an open book?"

"I can." His eyes threatened to consume you, a dangerous desire simmering beneath them. "But I want to hear you say it."

Your pulse quickened, yet defiantly, you tilted your chin up, a subtle challenge. "I won't say it."

A wicked, almost predatory smile gradually tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Stubborn," he observed, his voice husky, layered with a desire that threatened to dissolve the very resolve holding you together. He leaned closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of his breath against your skin. His lips brushed ever-so-lightly against your cheek. "I like that about you."

You inhaled sharply—a barely perceptible catch in your breath, yet you knew he noticed—he heard. Every muscle in your body was on fire, fighting to hold your resolve, refusing to collapse under the overwhelming attraction that crackled in the air, buzzing and sparking between you like a charged current.

"I won't act on those feelings unless you tell me to," he continued, his fingers now tracing a slow, torturous path across your lips.

Inside, something was screaming, Do it, just do it. But you didn't yield, stuck in your refusal to give in, especially to this arrogant man. You couldn't give him that satisfaction, even though your entire body was begging for it.

Gojo's eyes snapped into sharper focus, flashing with frustration. The unspoken challenge hanging heavy. Abruptly, he leaned back. The string of tension snapping with the motion.

"Time's up," he declared, his voice almost nonchalant. "Gotta go."

And just like that, he was slipping through the door. Your words lagging behind him, unable to reach his departing figure.

No.

Wait.

Should you feel a sense of relief now? Relieved that? Nothing happened ? Or should you have found your voice—spoken your wants?

The weight of the uncertainty bore down, unbearably so. He was gone, and the anticipation that had swelled within you slowly faded. Your hand, trembling, found your lips, as if trying to preserve the lingering essence of his proximity. Damn it. This can't be happening. You can't allow yourself to fall for your him—especially not him.

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

Sunlight peeked through the curtains, dragging you out of your dreams back into the harsh reality. You groaned, blinking against the bright morning light. Memories of last night with Gojo crept into your consciousness. Every word, every charged glance, played over in your mind. The unanswered 'what ifs' circling like vultures.

The nurse's appearance rustled you from your thoughts. After ensuring you were armed with painkillers and adorned with a stern string of warnings to prioritize rest and healing, she left you alone to battle with the thoughts that threatened to consume you.

With Shoko inaccessible, tucked away in a meeting in Kyoto, the painkillers and rest would have to suffice, at least for now. But even a mere glance at the pill bottle sent you back into a haze.

For at least one day, you reluctantly followed the nurse's advice. Your room overlooked the school courtyard, and through the window you could see the other students practicing diligently. However, every attempt to sneak a peek over the windowsill was met with a scowl from none other than Gojo. His gaze bored into you, as if he could see through your attempts to defy the doctor's orders.

"Rest!" he shouted at you, his voice carrying a tone of authority that sent shivers down your spine. You quickly backed away from the window. Your heart pounding as you sought refuge behind the closed curtains.

But you can't afford to rest—not fall further behind than you already are.

Though your ankle was no longer swollen, it still hurt. So did your inner thigh injury. Still, the pain was bearable—a constant reminder of your weakness. You hated it. How pathetic you appeared compared to your peers. Damn it. You weren't here to bask in rest and recovery.

Fuck this shit.

You knew of an abandoned training room on the far east of the school grounds. That night, you made it your secret training spot to practice the movements you'd observed earlier in the day, determined not to fall behind.

It was oddly amusing. This dissonance between willingly risking your life on the line during missions and the near imprisonment in the infirmary for something as relatively minor as a sprained ankle while on school grounds. Yet, that night, your resolve was ironclad, unyielding against the sharp pain that shot through your ankle with every step.

Agian. Again. Again.

You forged ahead. Each motion meticulously crafted in a relentless pursuit of perfection. Repetition became your ally, forms executed over and over again, each one a bit sharper, a bit closer to flawless precision. Your mind drowned out everything but the training.

Yet it wasn't enough.

Still not perfect.

Again.

Suddenly, the training room door burst open, slamming violently against the wall. Does this man not know how to open a door like a normal human being?

"Didn't I tell you to rest?" The voice, undeniably Gojo's, pierces the stillness.

"I can't fall behind."

Why is he even here? Is he stalking you or what?

"I told you to rest," his voice laced with anger—unfamiliar and unsettling—ricochets against the walls of the dusty room. But you didn't stop.

"That woman," he hissed. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of you. Your katana, paralyzed mid-swing by his unyielding grip, halts you, forcing your form into an unwanted pause.

"Gojo!"

"You're of no use to anyone injured!" Gojo's voice echoed. His grip on the katana firm but not threatening.

The room fell into stillness.

His crystal blue eyes held yours. There was something unsettling in them. Was it anger? Concern? His gaze paused you for a moment, but anger quickly replaced it.

"Stop pretending you care about me, Gojo," you snapped.

Effortlessly, Gojo claimed the katana and tossed it aside. The metallic sound of its collision sharp in the empty air. With a single, deliberate step, he bridged the physical distance between you—a mere breath away. His proximity dangerously close.

"How can I not care," his eyes narrowed. "—especially when you look at me with those sad, pretty eyes."

"Don't act like you know my story."

"Oh, I do!" He shot back; his voice sharp. "—yours is a classic story of tragedy—a life marred by loss, seeking not vengeance against the world or its curses, but against yourself—"

"Enough!"

"—because you think you're too weak!—" His verbal onslaught persisted. "—you couldn't protect them, so now you're punishing yourself, aren't you?"

"Stop it already!"

"—you're chasing self-destruction as atonement."

His words were finely-honed—cutting. The atmosphere crackling with each uttered syllable, neither willing to back down as emotions boiled over.

"You know next to nothing!"

"Oh love, I see it! I know it!" Gojo pressed further. "I'm trying to save you from yourself!"

Your fists clenched. "I don't need saving, especially not from you!"

You both paused to catch a breath, letting the heated argument fade away. It was as if an unspoken agreement to pause was made, and in that instant, all the stubborn resistance fell away. The tension lightened and, for a brief moment, you both let your guard down, replacing the previous anger.

"From the moment I first saw you, I knew—" Gojo's words trailed softly, barely more than a whisper. His fingers delicately swept a stray of hair from your shoulders. His touch, gentle and uncharacteristically tender.

"I knew what you were suffering," he murmured, his words torturing you, "—you had that look in your eyes that I know only too well."

You don't know me.

Your heart raced. You felt the heat of his presence on your skin—too close to your skin. You almost had to lean back to avoid feeling his breath on your lips. Silence enveloped him. His gaze anchored to yours. Longing and hesitation flickered in his eyes.

His hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, sending shivers cascading with every tender touch. "Those damn pretty sad eyes," he whispered. Your knees threatened to give way, the pain in your ankle dissolving into the distant consciousness.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you longed for him to bridge the last inch that separated you. Your stomach tightened as the tension between you reached an unbearable peak. "What's stopping you?"

His eyes flashed, dancing between your lips and your gaze, silent desire boldly painted across his features. It was as if an invisible force anchored his focus to your mouth, a force against which he strenuously battled. A shaky exhale slipped from him. His frame visibly quivering, caught in a tangle of longing and restraint.

"I told you I won't act on these feelings unless you tell me to," he hissed against your lips. It was a breathless, heart-pounding closeness in which the warmth of your shared breaths mingled.

I can't.

No.

I can't.

But you wanted to.

Fuck how bad you wanted to.

Yet, silence lingered. Your words lost—unspoken.

But he saw it. Within the depths of your gaze, he saw your inner struggle, a silent war waged against yourself. And then he turned away. His posture stiffened, suggesting an inability or unwillingness to witness your turmoil any longer. The atmosphere changed, palpably altering the space between you both.

"I'm sorry," he began, uttering words that seemed to pain him as they spilled forth, "This is quite inappropriate of me."

Sorrow pierced your heart, acknowledging the potential of what could have been, now slipping through your fingers. His restraint cast a bitter aftertaste into the air, mingling with the still-lingering, undeniable pull that had initially drawn you together.

"Let's end this," he declared. It was a bittersweet end to a moment filled with longing, leaving you both with a lingering ache in your hearts, pondering over the alternate paths your relationship might have ventured down, given different circumstances.

"Satoru, wait—," your whisper barely tiptoed into the atmosphere, a delicate plea in its undertones. This resistance, the internal battle to admit that you want him, seemed almost a tangible pain running, threading through every fiber of your being.

"Go back to bed and rest," his words were cold. Without meeting your eyes, he turned and then left. His retreating footsteps echoed in the empty space.

He was gone.

And yet he took something invaluable with him. It struck you then, like a relentless tide battering the coast—you were in love with him. A love you'd refused to confess, and now it was exacting its price—costing you everything.

Now it was too late. The pain in your chest was unbearable. Your heart had become a prisoner to him, and there was nothing you could do to change that.

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

Another week passed, each day without Satoru's training sessions bringing you an unexpected sense of relief. The prospect of avoiding him had now become your silver lining, offering you a chance to breathe without the intensity of his presence bearing down on you. As you returned to the training grounds and joined your fellow teammates, you made an effort to maintain a facade of normalcy, concealing the inner conflict that still lingered beneath the surface.

Back to business.

Though it felt anything but normal. Every fiber of your being fought to avoid his gaze, to keep your distance from him as much as possible. However, given that he was your teacher, the task was almost impossible. You couldn't help but notice his every move, his every glance, the way his aura effortlessly commanded attention.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your training, your thoughts frequently strayed to the white-haired man who had turned your world upside down. However, his ability to act as if nothing between you two had happened sliced through you more deeply than anticipated.

Megumi seemed to sense the tension surrounding you. After the training session, he took you aside, "Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice genuinely worried.

You tried to brush it off, thinking of a logical explanation. "No, it's nothing," you replied, although it was far from the truth. Being around Satoru was unbearable.

"it seems like you're not exactly at ease around Gojo?"

You shifted uncomfortably, "No, it's not like that," you replied, although it was precisely that. Damn it, could the others already sense it? You really weren't cut out for acting. Sensing your discomfort, he took a step back, realizing he might be prying too much.

"Sorry, forget it," they said gently, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I didn't mean to pry." You offered a strained smile, but it did little to mask your feelings, and he could tell.

After a moment, he changed the subject. "Have you seen the new movie coming out this week?" he asked, shifting the conversation to a lighter topic. "I really wanted to see it, but I guess the others aren't interested," he looked a bit embarrassed, his eyes averted as he continued. "It's an arthouse movie, so I understand if you don't want to see it either—"

"Yes!" you practically shouted, surprising him and even catching yourself off guard with the overwhelming enthusiasm in your response. The sheer excitement in your answer startled him, but he couldn't hide the subtle smile that tugged at his lips.

"So, Friday night?"

You nodded with a sense of anticipation, contemplating whether this could indeed be considered a date. You undeniably liked Megumi, there was no question about it, but Satoru's lingering presence still held a significant place in your thoughts and emotions. Whatever his intentions were in asking you out, you were determined to savor the moment and use it as a welcome distraction from the ever-present specter of Satoru.

The week raced by, and the anticipation of the upcoming movie date with Megumi was a delightful respite from Satoru—or, at the very least, a fleeting escape.

You had taken extra care in selecting your outfit for the occasion. Granted, it was just a trip to the cinema, and the dim lighting would shroud most details, but that hardly mattered. You wanted to feel pretty, if only for your own sake—and, naturally, for Megumi. Standing before the mirror, you painstakingly fine-tuned the last wisps of your hair when a message from him bathed your phone's screen in a soft glow.

"I'll be waiting outside the dormitory."

A subtle smile curved the corners of your lips as you retrieved your bag, your steps carrying you downstairs with an air of confidence. However, fate had a surprise in store for you as you descended the stairs, your world colliding with an unforeseen obstacle.

Satoru stood mere steps below, an inscrutable barrier in your path, showing no signs of yielding. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze locked with his, momentarily stealing your breath. You attempted to avert your eyes and continue on your way, but he remained resolute, refusing to release you from his hold. This can't be real.

"This is ridiculous, Satoru," you said, anger dripping from your voice. His arm formed an unyielding blockade, his hand clinging to the stair railing.

Raising an eyebrow, he can't suppress a slight smirk. "Oh, 'Satoru' is it?"

"Perhaps 'jerk' would be more fitting," you lock eyes with him, your stare unwavering, his smirk vanishing.

He leaned in, narrowing the gap, his words a sultry whisper against your defiance. "Stubborn as always, huh?" His eyes linger over your form, protective, possessive even. "But I can't allow you to leave with him, not looking like—this."

"Your insecurity is showing."

A silent clash of wills ensues, gazes locked in a wordless combat. How could this man have the audacity to leave you languishing in vain, only to come back, causing chaos within you once more?

"Do you really want to go—with him?" he asked, his voice suddenly soft but tinged with darkness, a tone impossible to ignore. Reluctantly, you met his gaze once more. His usually bright blue eyes now looked tired and dull.

"Yes, I do."

"You're lying."

"I'm not," you replied, avoiding his gaze.

His grip on the railing tightened, his fingers whitening with the force of his grasp. His eyes bored into yours, unrelenting. "You can't even look me in the eye when you say that."

"What do you want from me, Satoru?"

He continued to draw nearer, his arms closing around you until you had no choice but to lean against the stair railing, seeking any distance you could find. "You know what I want" he shot back sharply, his steps closing the distance between you. You could already feel the reassuring warmth of his body, a sensation you had missed painfully. Satoru's gaze lingering on your eyes, then descending to your lips before returning to meet your gaze.

"I can't give you that, you know that."

"That's not fair," he said softly, his lips almost brushing against yours. "Why must you be the one I can't resist?" His voice trailed off. You were only centimetres away from him, and the proximity was almost unbearable. Yet you couldn't move away, trapped in the magnetic field of his presence.

A tempest of frustration swirled within, grappling with the unfairness of it all. Somehow, two souls stumbled upon each other, yet faltered at acknowledging their own feelings, straining to shroud them. Maybe it was fear, maybe something else—but why? Why did he persist, nudging you towards confession, acknowledging that undeniable something, that magnetic pull that irresistibly drew you together? He wanted your confession. But voicing it meant a point of no return, and that path was littered with trouble.

Yet, an undeniable, searing ache, an insatiable yearning, had been quietly brewing from that very first encounter. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, a bewitching heat you'd covertly longed for. His eyes, alight with a ravenous kind of wanting, delicately traced every curve and nuance of your face, engraving each detail as if to preserve it within his very being.

Then a voice called your name, like a saving grace in this moment. Megumi rounded the corner, and peripherally you perceived him, while your gaze stubbornly remained tethered to Satoru. You caught a flicker of change in Satoru's expression. And, reluctantly, he let you walk away.

You made your way towards Megumi, who was visibly stunned by the unusually intimate scene he'd stumbled upon between you and Satoru. Your heart pounded fiercely, the ghost of Satoru's warm breath still haunting your lips. "Don't ask," you uttered quickly, seizing Megumi's wrist and pulling him along with you.

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

Satoru's been absent for a stretch now, and the void, bereft of any news about him, nags at you like an itch forever just out of reach. Weeks have slipped by since that painful moment on the stairs, and his face has been absent since.

While you grapple with the suddenness of his leaving, Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi seem remarkably unbothered. To them, Satoru vanishing on some mission or another secretive undertaking is nothing new. But for you, it's a whole different story. You can't push away the persistent worry that perhaps, his departure has something to do with you.

Memories of him rewind and play back in your mind. Those eyes of Satoru, deep pools that kept their secrets well. His hair, a cascade of silver under the morning sun's tender kiss. Every detail, every secret exchange of looks, every hushed word—it all reverberates through your thoughts.

"Why didn't he take us with him?" Yuji's lament yanked you back to the here and now, his question lingering heavily in the room.

Your head tilted slightly, thoughts swirling around the question. Indeed, it's been an age since you and Satoru teamed up for a mission, especially a demanding one. Recently, your assigned missions have been relatively straightforward, almost as though fate decided you needed to be consumed with other matters—such as your personal life, which has been in a troubled state since your last encounter with the white-haired sorcerer.

"He must have his reasons," Megumi responded, his tone carrying a nuance of comprehension that only further piqued your interest about Satoru's whereabouts.

After that date—or whatever that was—you and Megumi had developed a closer friendship. The times shared together evolved into treasured recollections, and, unknowingly, Megumi became your comfort, a diversion from the turmoil that was Satoru Gojo.

The initial escape from your thoughts about Satoru proved fleeting. In the first few weeks following his disappearance, your mind relentlesslyrevolved around him, despite your best efforts to suppress those thoughts. But as the months rolled on, the fervor of your emotions began to wane. Six months down the line, memories of Satoru seemed to recede into the backdrop. However, it had become unusual for him to be absent for such prolonged periods. The school concocted various imaginative excuses for his extended disappearances, but your attention to them had long since dwindled.

In a sense, his absence became a bittersweet relief. The agony of his presence, laced with unresolved feelings and lingering tension, was replaced by a serene calm. Breathing became a little easier without his looming presence subtly permeating every moment.

"Move over!" Nobara snapped at Yuji, who was hogging more than his fair share of space in front of the bonfire. The tail end of summer was nearing, and the school had arranged a bonfire to herald the onset of autumn.

You and your squad picked a spot distanced from the main throng. As the night unfolded, the levels of alcohol imbibed seemed to surge, and it was both hilarious and slightly alarming to witness your typically stoic superiors in such an unruly condition. Especially Yuji and Nobara appeared to have delved a tad too much into their beverages, with their speech beginning to blur.

Only Megumi and you kept things a bit restrained, partly out of necessity, because someone had to keep tabs on the others. This wasn't the first time a boozy get-together might devolve into scuffles or something worse.

"Come on, have another!" Nobara slurred, trying to coax Megumi, who declined with a courteous shake of his head.

"You're no fun!" she scowled, eyeing you with your water glass. "Both of you!"

"Somebody's got to keep an eye on you, especially when you're this plastered," you responded, a hint of dutifulness in your tone, considering the lively bonfire nearby.

She took an additional gulp from her glass, mumbling to herself, "You two act like an old married couple."

The comment threw you for a loop. Were you two actually that close? The idea stuck with you, even as Yuji jumped in, your unease evidently clear. "Why don't you two go out on a date?" he blurted, suddenly turning your relationship into the new subject of discussion.

Megumi, picking up on your discomfort, stepped in. "Stop spouting nonsense. Have some water," he voiced, a twinge of irritation lacing his words.

Megumi shifted towards you, a comforting expression in his eyes. "Ignore them," he suggested, and you managed a fragile smile in thanks. He tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, but before he could, Maki wandered over, delivering news that thrust your heart into a fleeting panic.

"Did you hear that Gojo's back in town?" Maki tossed the words into the space between you, and they hung there, pulling a tangible tension down around the group.

What?

"He's back? How do you know?" Megumi asked. Maki simply shrugged, her face hinting at the confidential nature of the information. "Guess it's supposed to be a secret."

"A secret?" Yuji jumped in, his expression one of outright disbelief. "Why would his return be under wraps?" Nobara piped up with her own musings. "It's not like he's ever been one to keep things low-key."

Maki responded with a flicker of irritation. "Don't ask me, hat's just what I've heard," she retorted before making herself comfortable with the group.

A whirlwind of thoughts began to spiral in your mind. Satoru was back? For how long? Why hadn't he made his way back to school? Where in the world had he been? Anxiety flowed through your veins, your throat constricting and fingers chilling in response.

"I need to—uh, grab a drink," you mumbled, desperate for an excuse to have a minute alone to gather your thoughts, justifying your abrupt leaving. Maki released a weary sigh, and given the inebriated state of the rest, they probably didn't fully grasp your sudden shift, so you swiftly made your exit from the group.

"I'll check on her," Megumi stated, his concern readily apparent. Maki showed a practiced nonchalance as Megumi rose and trailed after you.

Distancing yourself from the bonfire's warmth, you sought seclusion away from the prying eyes and merry sounds of the gathering. Your pace quickened, almost to a fledgling run, as though trying to escape something invisible yet pervasive.

Megumi managed to catch up with you, his sturdy grip encircling your wrist gently. "Are you all right?" As you turned towards him, you couldn't quite mask the frightened look etched into your features.

"What wrong?"

"I just need some fresh air," your voice betrayed you, fluttering unsteadily. Megumi's gaze, unyielding and firm, penetrated your facade. "Don't give me that crap," he responded with unwavering firmness. "I know something went down with Gojo."

Your heartbeat staggered, skipping its rhythmic pace momentarily. He knew? But to what extent? Panic began swelling within your chest. "No, all's good," you stammered, your voice fluttering like a lone leaf caught in a tempest.

Megumi's eyes softened, his breath escaping in a sharp exhale. "You want to see him?" His words, a gentle whisper, hovered in the chilly air between you.

"See him?" Confusion replaced your fear. The possibility hadn't even occurred to you, and you wondered what Megumi was alluding to.

"I knew he was back since yesterday. I didn't tell you because I had no idea what was going on."

Your eyes lingered on him, unable to process the flood of thoughts and feelings this revelation had unleashed. It had been an eternity since you'd laid eyes on Satoru, since his voice had caressed your ears, or you'd shared words with him. The mere inkling of his return rendered you motionless.

"You don't need to spell it out. It's not my place," Megumi continued, infusing empathy into his voice. "I'll slide you his address. You navigate from there."

With a swift glance at his phone, Megumi dispatched a message to you, delivering the address.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

"You're my friend," he declared briefly, his gaze steadfast, anchoring into your eyes. "You matter to me."

Megumi.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

You took a heartbeat to contemplate, then gently shook your head. "No, I'll be fine," you affirmed. Megumi responded with a supportive grin. "But I'll give him hell if he hurt you again," he appended, a speck of protective fervor dancing in his tone. It was enough to coax a small, genuine chuckle from you, "Thank you."

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

The rain was relentless, pouring down like a deluge. The campfire must have gone out long ago, you thought as you followed the route through the downpour on your smartphone. Strands of wet hair clung to your face despite your best efforts to brush them away. You barely noticed the cold rain, your mind focused on one thing—Satoru Gojo.

Finally, you arrived at a massive building in the heart of Tokyo. You entered the large lobby of the new building and searched for Satoru's name in the elevator directory. "At the top, then," you muttered to yourself. It struck you that Satoru must have had considerable wealth to afford an apartment in such a prime location, let alone the penthouse.

The lift ride to the top took only a few seconds, but it felt like an agonising eternity. Doubts and fears swirled inside you. Was he even there? What if he didn't want to see you? But now it was too late—the lift doors slid open and at the end of the corridor you saw his nameplate on the wall. With every ounce of courage you could muster, you pressed the doorbell and brushed the wet strands of hair from your face. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing the person you had both longed for and tried to forget.

"Why are you all wet?" the white-haired man asked.

"It's raining," you replied curtly, water droplets glistening on your clothes. Satoru stepped aside and let you in.

"Didn't bring an umbrella?" his question was coupled with a playful smirk as he lobbed a towel in your direction. You caught it, the soft fabric a comforting presence in your hands.

"As if that's what you want to know right now," you countered, emotions churning violently within, far more overwhelming than the rain that had soaked you to the bone.

Standing in the middle of the living room, you could hardly believe the breathtaking view that stretched before you. The massive glass walls offered a panoramic view of more than half of Tokyo. It felt like the perfect place for tourists to view the city from above, although you couldn't begin to imagine the astronomical rent for such an apartment.

Satoru walked around the sofa and sat down, his casual posture a sharp contrast to the tense atmosphere enveloping the room. Lost in the mesmerizing scenery beyond the window, you hadn't noticed that you had been silent for a while. It was he who disrupted it, his voice laced with a teasingly sarcastic undertone. "It's quite inappropriate for a student to bother his teacher in private at home."

"Bother?" You swiveled towards him, an amused twinkle flickering in your gaze. "Certainly. You appear immensely busy, lounging in your sweatpants with chips on your table," you retorted, a playful smirk playing on your lips.

"Unbelievably busy," Satoru shot back, his voice steeped in irony as he leisurely strolled to join you by the window. "In fact, I have been busy avoiding you." The room sank back into an imposing silence, its weight suffocating within the dimly illuminated space.

"Where have you been?" Your inquiry cut through the stillness.

"Were you not planning to take your anger out on me?" Satoru responded, sidestepping your question with ease.

"I am."

Satoru lingered just a step behind you, hands casually tucked into his sweatpants, eyes gazing over the rain-soaked vastness of Tokyo beyond the window. His sheer proximity seemed to suffocate, pressing an invisible weight against your chest.

"I'm so damn angry at you," your admission hung vulnerably in the space between you, your thoughts racing. "And I'm terrified of getting hurt even more."

"Why are you here, then?" His voice was a bare whisper, coarse and soft.

"You know exactly why I'm here," your tone, wavering between resolve and vulnerability, filled the room, "—you've always been able to read me like a book, remember?"

"I know," Satoru replied, and silence enveloped the room once more. It was a kind of silence that, curiously, didn't breed discomfort. Rather, it served as a relief from the bottled up pain you both held, a momentary escape from the heartache of the past, even though confronting it was inevitable.

His eyes anchored themselves on you. Meanwhile, your eyes lingered on the sprawling city below, watching as rain painted everything with a glossy sheen. You broke the silence first, "I've missed you," each word cut your throat like blades.

"I did the same as you," Satoru finally broke the silence. "—find someone else." His words lingered, offering an unwanted reality for you to digest.

"And how'd that play out for you?"

"Well, here I am, ain't I?" Satoru's retort was playful yet drenched in self-mockery as he took another step towards you, his form casting a looming shadow over you, his breath whispering across your shoulder.

"I realized, after cycling through all those faces, it was your damn face I was searchin' for in every one of them," he confessed, his voice low, burdened with a self-loathing that gripped his words. Exhaling a deep sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, agitation palpable in his every move. "How messed up is that—"

"Why did it have to end like this?" you wondered aloud, more to yourself, to him, or to the universe, demanding no specific answer.

"Why?" His gaze drifted. "Suppose I'm just a damn coward."

"You're right," your agreement was blunt, unsparing. "So, you're you done with that?"

"Done with what?" Satoru's asked, fingers gently trailing down the side of your neck, causing a cascade of shivers down your spine. In that electrified stillness, the warmth of Satoru's breath against your skin sending a rush of conflicting emotions through you. The proximate intimacy—all too much yet not enough at the same time.

"—done running away,'" you said firmly, turning to face him. His ice-blue eyes locked with yours, burrowing into you with a force that seemed poised to shatter your very core. It had been so long since you had been this close to him, yet it felt instantly right, as if you had never really been apart.

"This is gonna get us into a lot of trouble," he whispered, a solitary finger delicately tracing the contour of your lower lip.

"Don't care," you said, the yearning for that long-overdue kiss evident in your eyes.

"We might catch hell at school for this," he warned, his tone half teasing, half serious, as if trying to persuade you to reconsider your actions. But having walked half of Tokyo under a weeping sky, retreat was not an option. Your heart ached for the kiss you'd craved, the flavor of his lips that had lingered in your dreams.

"I couldn't care less," you breathed out, the sound of your voice almost lost beneath the thunderous beating of your own heart. Satoru's gaze locked with yours, a magnetic pull that left your breath hitching in your chest. His lips, tantalizingly close to yours, promised the allure of a kiss forbidden. Every ounce of reason told you to pull back, to resist the gravitating force between you and Satoru Gojo, yet resistance was futile.

"So, say it," his voice, a commanding whisper. He needed your confirmation, your expressed desire as the only thing capable of holding him back from giving into the longing. He needed to hear you voice your want for him.

"I've wanted you, Satoru—," you breathed, your whisper brushing his lips, "—since the first moment I saw you."

Satoru grinned as he leaned forward, his eyes locked with yours. "What are you doing to me?" he whispered, his voice barely more than a heated murmur before his lips crushed against yours, a teasing promise of what was to come. You felt your heart racing, your body responding to his closeness, the intensity of his gaze. The world seemed to disappear around you, leaving only the two of you in this charged moment.

Satoru's kiss was desperate, a clash of lips and tongues that spoke of a hunger that had been denied for too long. It was a release of all the pent-up feelings that had simmered between you, a passionate declaration of desire mixed with a deep affection that could no longer be ignored.

Satoru's strong fingers closed around your neck, the touch both commanding and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine. With his other hand, he pressed your hip firmly against him, his desire evident in the way his body pressed against yours.

You struggled to catch your breath, the intensity of his kisses leaving you breathless and yearning for more. But in that moment, you found a strange and exhilarating solace in the overwhelming passion that had enveloped you. If this was how it was going to end, if you were going to suffocate in his kisses, it would be a beautiful, evil death, you thought. His lips devoured yours, and as you gasped for breath between heated kisses, you realised that surrendering to this powerful attraction was inevitable.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he confessed, his voice a deep, sensual murmur that sent tingles running along your spine.

Satoru's words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation as he gasped, his breath warm against your ear. His dark eyes bored into yours, a storm of desire and longing swirling within them. The tension in the room crackled with an electric energy and you could feel the magnetic pull between you and Satoru, a force neither of you could resist.

He turned you gently, his fingers grazing your skin like a whisper, and pressed you firmly against the cold windowpane. The cityscape outside seemed to blur as your heart raced in response to the sudden intensity of his touch. Satoru's hands moved from the window to your waist, his touch setting your skin on fire as he pulled you closer, his body pressed against yours, moulding to your contours.

Satoru's touch was both insistent and gentle as he used a firm grip on your hair to tilt your head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of your neck to his relentless kisses. Your breath caught and a sensual moan escaped your parted lips as the soft, heated caress of his mouth traced a trail of fire across your sensitive skin. Your body responded instinctively, seeking his warmth and closeness, pressing against him.

As his lips worked their magic on your neck, you felt a fierce desire build between you, a pull that defied all reason. His hands moved, fingers intertwining with yours, still pressed tightly against the cool window. The contrast between the cold glass and the searing heat of his touch only added to the intensity of the moment.

His body pressed against yours and you could feel the undeniable evidence of his desire, an exciting bulge rubbing against you, sending waves of desire through your body.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement heightened the tension between you and Satoru, a palpable electricity sizzling in the air. The forbidden allure of the moment was intoxicating and you found yourself completely lost in the whirlwind of passion that had swept you both away, knowing that there was no turning back from the depths of desire that had been unleashed.

"Satoru," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea as he tightened his grip around your throat, a mixture of desire and surrender in your eyes. His fingers slid sensuously along your lips, igniting a simmering fire within you that threatened to consume your very being. The growing heat in your body seemed to tear you apart, your every nerve alive with desire. You craved more, yearned for it with an intensity that shook you to your core. For so long you had imagined what it would feel like to be kissed by him, but now that it was happening you couldn't get enough.

In a desperate burst of passion, you broke free of his grip and turned to face him. Despite your determination, he, a head taller and undeniably stronger, effortlessly pinned you back against the window once more. The cool glass pressed against your overheated skin as he pulled you into another rough, consuming kiss, leaving you no room to assert control.

Your fingers instinctively clawed at his shirt, feeling the taut muscles beneath the thin fabric as you gasped for air, the world outside the window a distant blur as your senses were drowned in a whirlwind of sensations and emotions. The fierce urgency of your encounter heightened the tension between you and Satoru, making every stolen moment together an electrifying, unforgettable experience.

His gaze bored into your soul, searching for any hint of surrender, while your heart raced in response to his closeness. You knew that surrendering to him meant losing yourself in the whirlwind of passion that seemed to follow him like a magnetic force, but you were determined not to let go of the reins just yet.

With a gentle but firm push, you held him at arm's length, your hand pressed firmly against his chest. He stared at you, his eyes filled with a mischievous gleam that made your knees tremble. Gojo Satoru was a master at this game of desire and he knew exactly how to keep you on edge.

"Afraid?" he hissed, his voice a seductive melody that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers danced slowly down your arm, teasing your skin as they went. "Or are you just testing how much control you have over me?"

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure as he peeled off his shirt with unhurried grace, revealing a chiseled chest that was a masterpiece of temptation.

The tension between you and Satoru escalated as you approached him. "Afraid of you?" you whispered. With a subtle yet bold move, you pushed him backwards, causing him to stumble and fall onto the sofa behind him. "—afraid that you might enjoy it too much to resist," he huffed.

The seconds felt like hours as you held your ground, resisting the magnetic pull that was Gojo Satoru. His grin only deepened, his eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. You couldn't help but admire the confidence he exuded, even as your own resolve wavered.

"Are you?" you hissed, sitting down on his lap. His surprise at your assertiveness only increased the tension between you, but he didn't utter a word of protest, allowing you to straddle his desire-fuelled anticipation.

"God, you're going to be the death of me," Satoru moaned, his breath hitching with every languid up and down movement you made. Satoru surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, his head falling back as he closed his eyes, savouring every moment of your tantalising touch. His strong hands traced the contours of your body, stoking the fire between you, and soft, uncontrollable moans slipped past his parted lips as you pressed harder against him.

Satoru's gaze met yours, his eyes smoldering with desire as you moved your hips teasingly around his eager shaft.

"I can't hold back any longer," he moaned, his voice filled with longing. "Let me fuck you already."

In response to his passionate plea, you silenced him with a deep, soulful kiss, and that was all the permission he needed. Satoru's hands found your waist and with a swift, intense motion he flipped you onto your back, his powerful presence now towering over you, ready to consume the fierce desire that had built up between you.

Your wrists were locked firmly in his grip, held securely above your head as he pressed your chest against his. His skilled fingers wasted no time in finding their way to your trousers. With a single, purposeful motion, he unfastened them and slid them down, exposing the smoldering passion that had been hidden beneath.

Sator's desire surged with each passing moment, his excitement intensifying as he meticulously, almost agonisingly, traced circles with his skilled fingers over the damp fabric of your underwear. His breath caught at the sight of your outrageous pleasure, his eyes growing increasingly intense.

"I want you so badly," Satoru whispered huskily, his lips trailing along your body, heading south. "Satoru, please," you begged, your voice shaking with frustration. The air was thick with anticipation and you couldn't stand the relentless tension any longer.

But he remained maddeningly patient, his eyes locked with yours, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. His fingers trailed along the edge of your underwear, tugging teasingly at the fabric before finally relenting and pulling it aside. Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned closer, his hot breath sending shivers through your body.

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise before his lips fell on your throbbing core. A gasp escaped your lips as his tongue met your most sensitive spot and a moan followed as he began a slow, painful exploration.

The sensations were exquisite, his tongue moving languidly, each flick sending waves of pleasure through you. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate dance. He began agonisingly slowly, tracing delicate patterns with his tongue that made you arch your back in sweet torment.

As the intensity increased, so did the urgency in your moans. His pace quickened, his movements more fervent, matching the wild rhythm of your own desire. You writhed beneath him, lost in the electrifying connection, your pleas for release growing more desperate as you stood on the brink of an explosive climax.

Satoru's gaze remained fixed on you, his dark eyes burning with desire as he continued to tease you relentlessly, just as eager to drive you to the brink of release.

With every passionate moan that escaped your lips, he couldn't resist any longer. He decided he wanted to be the one to push you over the edge. Two fingers slid inside you, one after the other, causing you to gasp sharply. Your tight, wet heat clenched around his penetrating digits and he couldn't help but moan at the sensation.

"You're so hot," he whispered huskily, his fingers expertly exploring the depths of your desire. He knew exactly where to touch, where to press and how to drive you wild.

His tongue continued its tantalising dance around your swollen clit, his warm breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. The combined assault of his mouth and fingers sent waves of pleasure through your body, building your arousal to a fever pitch. As he slid his fingers along the intimate contours inside you, he zeroed in on that sweet spot that made you arch your back and cry out his name.

"Not yet," he whispered, his breath hot against your clit, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips brushed lightly across your skin as he moved up to you again. Your senses were on fire with desire, your body aching for him.

He reached for something on the coffee table, his movements confident and purposeful. With a quick motion he pulled down his sweatpants, revealing the loose boxers that barely hid his growing erection. The sight of him, so close yet teasingly out of reach, sent a surge of desire through you.

You wanted him with a desperation you didn't know was possible. The circumstances were complicated, teacher and student, a forbidden union that promised trouble. But in this moment, none of that mattered. You were lost in the intensity of your desire, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you.

As your thoughts swirled with the forbidden nature of your liaison, you failed to notice that Satoru had already wrapped himself in a condom and was now positioned at your entrance.

"We can stop anytime," he panted, his voice thick with desire, his dark eyes locked on yours. It was a feeble offer, given the point of no return you'd already reached, but you chose not to respond with words. Instead, you pulled him closer, your lips meeting in a fervent, hungry kiss. It was a passionate affirmation, your answer to his unspoken question.

Satoru seemed to enjoy your reaction and without further hesitation he thrust into you with an urgency that left you gasping for breath. His entry was swift and unyielding, and there was no time to get used to his size. You moaned his name as he pulled you tightly against him, the sensation of his body merging with yours overwhelming your senses.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped you both as he held you in his arms, his thrusts driven by a hunger that had been building for what seemed like an eternity. His moans mingled with yours, a symphony of desire that filled the room as he thrust deeper and harder, as if he'd been longing for this moment for years.

Satoru's snow-white hair cascaded around his face, obscuring his eyes as he continued his relentless rhythm. His forehead pressed gently against yours, and his fingers intertwined with yours as he quickened his pace. You couldn't help but wrap yourself around him, the pleasure overwhelming you as you arched your back off the sofa.

"God," Satoru's desperate moans filled the air, his voice a fervent plea as he plunged deeper into you. His lips sought comfort against your neck, a primal instinct to muffle his own cries of pleasure.

As the heat between you and Satoru increased, you could feel how close you were— and how close he was. He could feel it too, grabbing your jaw with one hand and forcing you to look up at him. To look at him as you came around him. And so did he. You could feel him pouring his load into you, feel the tension release from both of you and fuck did it feel good.

Satoru let go of your jaw and exhaled heavily, "Fuck," he breathed out before his lips curved into a cocky grin. He backed away from you and slowly pulled his length out of you.

He looked at you with those piercing, stormy eyes, a mischievous gleam hidden in their depths. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, a testament to the forbidden passion that had ignited between you. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he whispered, his voice laced with danger, "You're really getting me into trouble."

You struggled to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to organise the chaotic whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. Yes, he was your teacher, and while the consequences of this illicit rendezvous loomed in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the overwhelming pull that drew you closer.

In the hazy aftermath, you found yourself staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes, his piercing, icy blue gaze locked with yours. "As if you're going to follow rules," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to regain your composure.

Satoru couldn't help but chuckle, a deep, seductive sound. "You're right about that," he admitted, his voice laced with a dangerous edge that sent a thrill through you. His hand reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers tracing a tantalising path along your skin. You knew you were playing with fire, but at that moment you couldn't bring yourself to care.

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

You awoke in the middle of the night, your heart still racing. The room was shrouded in shadows, but your senses were sharply aware of the man lying beside you in bed—Satoru Gojo. With the utmost caution, you slipped from under the sheets, your every movement seemingly unnoticed by his tranquil form. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow on his chiseled features. Satoru appeared to be in a deep sleep as you made your way to the kitchen.

You grabbed a glass and filled it with water, thinking about how you'd ended up here. The living room, still in disarray from your heady night, served as a reminder of what had happened just hours before. You hadn't bothered to tidy up—it was as if you'd left a trail of your intimacy for everyone to see. Your smartphone interrupted your thoughts, the screen flashed with a message from Megumi.

"Everything okay? You with Gojo?"

A tender smile played on your lips as you replied, "I'm fine. I'm with Satoru."

His reply came swift, "I'm glad you're safe," warming a little corner of your heart with its sincerity.

Megumi, with his soft and ever-supportive nature, was like a comfy pillow that was always there. Even though he might've not been the biggest fanof your whole situation with Satoru, he stuck around, always keeping an eye out for you.

You tiptoed back into the bedroom, chilly nighttime breezes whispering in through the open window. Satoru didn't stir, lost deep in his dreams. The thing between you and Gojo Satoru was like this wild, magnetic pull, ticking and tocking, drawing you in closer, second by second.

However, underneath the gentle glow of the moon, spilling into the quiet room, you wondered: just how much more wild and heady could this secret thing between you two get? Thoughts about what's next cast long shadows across your mind, but you shushed them for now. Tomorrow might be a day for doubts and facing the consequences, but tonight, tonight was all yours.

next chapter ->

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you

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forever-rogue · 9 months

Note

“just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new.” And “you look like you’ve got something to say” with Joel miller🤭 I just know you’ll do this one justice babes

AN | Thank you so much, my love 🥰I hope you enjoy!

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Description of leg injury

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d given people stitches countless times by now. The circumstances surrounding life as it was currently known had you learning how to do stitches from a young age, and by adulthood you were pretty much an expert. But - but - you’d never had any yourself. Surprising, right? Maybe you just weren’t as clumsy as everyone else…or you were just lucky. Either way, there had been no complaints on your part.

Until now. Suddenly you weren’t feeling so brave as you sat there on edge of Joel Miller’s bathtub as he cleaned the wound on your thigh. Yeah…it had been an interesting series of events that had led to this moment, but here you were. And the cherry on top of it all was that you hadn’t even been doing anything dangerous or scary. All you had done was go on patrol with Joel and gotten snagged on a particularly sharp and jagged rogue tree branch.

And from there your thigh had been slashed, through your jeans and all. And it hadn’t even hurt - the surprise and shock of the moment had gotten the better of you and the adrenaline kicked in. It was Joel’s reaction that caused you to realize that something had really happened. When you looked down you found a large gash in your jeans and blood flowing down your leg.

A soft oh was all that escaped your lips before you felt the tears well up and start to run down your cheeks. The pain set in almost immediately and all you wanted to do was curl up and cry and make it go away. Luckily, Joel managed to make it over to you before it all became too much. He always managed to make you feel better and this was no exception. He was at your side and taking your face in his hands to look you over and reassure you that everything would be alright.

And that brought you to your current situation. Needless to say it wasn’t one that you had ever imagined yourself in.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“It’s going to sting a little bit, okay?” he asked softly as he grabbed a clean washcloth and the bottle of rubbing alcohol. You sighed but offered him a small nod as you braced yourself for the pain that you knew was coming. You heard his soft chuckle before he brushed a few rogue locks of hair out of your face, “let me know if it hurts too much.”

“I’ll be fine,” you wished your voice didn’t sound so small and scared but of course, you had to make a continual fool out of yourself in front of Joel. It was like the universe just wanted to push you into confessing your crush on him. But…yeah, that was not going to happen.

"Alright," he popped open the bottle and poured it onto the cloth and you watched intently as he cleaned the area around the wound before moving onto the gash itself. Joel watched your face as he tried to gauge your pain level. It was a biting sting, no doubt due to how deep the cut was, but you tried to hide it as best as you could. You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you were surprised you didn't experience the coppery taste of blood in your mouth, "its alright, baby. I'm almost done."

You closed your eyes and nodded, but Joel was one step ahead of you, his hand already on your cheek in order to comfort you. He gently shushed you, and as if he possessed some kind of magic power, the pain seemed to dissipate slightly.

"Is it over?" Your question came out more like a whimper than anything else. You peeked an eye open at him, and found him watching you with a gentle expression.

"Mhmm," he removed the rag and tossed it into the sink. You could feel him scrutinizing your leg; he'd had enough of his own injuries to know more or less what was going on, "can you do me a favor, sweetheart?"

"Of course."

"Take off your pants please," his eyes pinked as he could barely meet your face. You felt like you were burning up immediately and found it impossible to say anything, "I just…you need some stitches. This cut is pretty deep."

"Stitches?" You squeaked out as he grimaced with nodded in the affirmative. After exhaling deeply, you nodded, "yes, o-of course."

Joel took a step back and gave you some space, turning around in order to keep from losing his mind. If he was an honest man, and he was for the most part, he would admit that he'd thought of this moment so many times. Not the whole 'taking care of your injury' thing but the whole 'getting to see you undress' thing. In his mind it was usually a more romantic thing. But this…well. His main concern was getting you taken care of.

"Okay," your voice sounded so small as he turned around to find you sitting there in just your oversized t-shirt and pale pink lace underwear. At least you'd worn some cute panties, "w-will it be okay?"

"Yes," he promised as he tried to focus on the injury rather than the soft skin of your legs. The edges were red and angry, but he knew once everything stitched up and kept clean it would be alright, "you trust me enough to do this?"

"I think you're the only one I'd trust to do this," you confessed gently, causing Joel to hesitate for a moment. You could see the corners of his mouth quirk up, "will it hurt?"

"Yes," you could tell that he hated admitting that it would cause you any sort of pain, "it'll hurt a little bit. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you watched as he grabbed the clean needle and thread. Funny how a home patch job these days had become so normal. When he was ready his fingers danced around your soft skin, "go ahead. The sooner you do it, the sooner it's done."

"If it hurts too much let me know," you nodded and turned your head away. You hoped that by looking to the side you could convince your mind that nothing bad was happening. But as soon as you felt the prick and slide of the needle entered your skin, your body tensed up and a hiss escaped your lips. Joel made a small sound of reassurance, "I know, baby, I know."

You were holding the edge of the tub so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. Joel tried to make it as painless as possible but you were so on edge that you were sure you could feel every little movement, "does it always feel like that? Or am I just a huge baby?"

You hoped that humor would help and tried to focus on the fact that Joel - Joel! - was touching you. You heard him inhale and exhale sharply, a stunted laughter of sorts before he adopted a softer tone, "just a few more stitches and you'll be good as new. You're doing so well."

"I'm acting like a little bitch," you blinked back your tears, laughing ever so slightly, "you don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying," he promised as made a few more movements before stopping, "and now you're all done."

"All done?"

"Yup," He cut the thread and covered up the wound before you could take too close of a look and worry again, "and you took it like a champ."

"Thank you," the pout on your lips was so pathetic and cute at the same time that he was sorely tempted to kiss it away, "it'll be okay?"

"It'll be okay," he taped up the edges of the gauze before moving to stand back up, "I'll check on it again tomorrow."

"You don't have to-"

"It's not up for debate, sweetheart," he was busy washing his hands so he didn't see the ways your eyes widened in response. Your whole body felt like it was on fire.

He looked up in the mirror and caught your eye, offering you a half smile. You returned it the best you could before slowly trying to stand up to put your pants back on. Joel beat you to it, reaching for your hands and gingerly hoisting you to your feet.

He handed you your pants holding out his arm to you in order to keep you balanced all while pointedly keeling his gaze shifted away.

"Thank you," you pulled the zipper up and buttoned the jeans, trying to ignore the big hole where the bandage was now peaking out from. You were going to throw then away as soon as you got home, hoping the memory of the injury as well, "for everything."

"Nothing to thank me for," he insisted, "are you going to be okay going home?"

"Considering I live a few houses down I think I'll manage," you managed to tease him in response and that brought a grin to his face, "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow," he promised, "and if you need anything before then-"

"I won't hesitate to ask."

"Good girl."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the next afternoon you hadn't heard from Joel. You were ready to write it off as him being busy, but a small part of you was disappointed as well. Admittedly you did want to see him, even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances.

Just when you'd given up on him, you heard a knocking at your door before it slowly opened, "hello?"

"Joel?" You nearly tripped over your own feet as you almost ran down the stairs.

"Yeah," he made his way over to the bottom of the stairs, smiling lightly as you came down, "easy there, don't want to go and hurt yourself more."

"Sorry," you hopped off the bottom step and looked up at him, trying to keep your composure, "just, I- um. Hi."

"Hi," he took a step back and motioned for you to follow him to the kitchen. He'd been over to your house so many times by now and knew his way around but at the same there was something undeniably sexy about the way he took charge, "c'mon, let me take a look at you."

"Its fine," you promised softly, "really."

"Again, it wasn't a question," he pulled out the chair and you sat down without further hesitation or comment, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine," you promised, glad you wore shorts today and didn't have to pull down your pants in front of him again. He washed his hands before crouching down at your side and slowly removing the bandaging he had so gently applied. You must have made a small sound at the pressure because he stopped immediately and looked up at you with worry, "sorry, it's okay. Preemptively preparing for pain."

He chuckled in response as he finished removing the bandage and appraising his handiwork. You tried to watch his face for any sign that it wasn't okay but quickly got lost as you studied his features instead, "its looking good. It'll be sore for a few days but it'll be just fine."

“Promise?” the question slipped out before you could even really process it. It was more of an internal ponderance but when he gave your hand a squeeze, you relaxed. He looked at you, warm brown eyes staring into your eyes as thought he could see deep inside your soul. The look was so intense that you wanted you to look away,but couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“I swear it,” his voice was a raspy whisper that sent shivers running up and down your spine. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or feel the way gooseflesh erupted all over your skin. Almost as if he could sense your thoughts, he reached up and touched your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “you look like you’ve got something to say.”

“I-I…” you paused for a moment, opening and closing your mouth a few times, in search of the right words, “umm, I don’t know if you want me to hear it.”

“I’d love to hear anything you ever have to say,” and you knew that he meant it. Joel Miller would never lie to you. Your eyes darted to his lips and you couldn’t help the way your mouth ran dry. You’d always been attracted to him - it wasn’t just the fact that he was incredibly handsome, it was also that he was so kind and caring (even if he never admitted it), and smart, and giving. He had a lot of admirable qualities even if he didn’t believe that or acknowledge it. You’d gladly remind him of that every day if you had, “I was just…I was thinking about how handsome you are. And that I’d really like to kiss you.”

“You sure about that?” his cheeks flushed slightly as you nodded gently, “that’s funny because I was just thinking the same thing.”

“You were thinking about how handsome you are?” you joked causing him to snort as he sighed at you with nothing short of affection.

“Very funny,” in a gentle movement, he took your face gently in his hands and made sure you were looking at him. Your own gaze in response was wide-eyed and innocent at the sudden gesture, “let me ask you again, are you sure about that?”

“Uh huh,” you choke dout but you knew he wasn’t going to take that as an actual answer, “y-yes, I’m sure.”

“May I?” you nodded, instantly knowing where his mind was going. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, something so soft and gentle that it was almost nothing more than a ghost of a kiss. And yet - it felt so utterly perfect.

When he pulled back, looking at you curiously to make sure he hadn’t accidentally crossed any boundaries. When he realized you were beaming at him, he relaxed and leaned in to kiss you again, this time with more urgency and fervor.

The two of you only broke apart when you needed a breath of air and Joel pressed gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks before stopping at your lips.

“Are you still sure?” if you didn’t know any better you would almost think that he sounded nervous.

“Positive,” your reassurance allowed him to relax, “in fact, I’m so sure that you could do that anytime you want.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze, “but seriously, thank you Joel. For taking care of me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” and yeah. You knew that was true, and you loved that, among so many other things about him.

“I’d do anything for you too, Joel,” he smiled bashfully in response and you might have fallen a little more for him.

“I know,” this time it was your turn to kiss him.

And kiss you did, until it was the only thing that either of you thought about.

Maybe the leg injury wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

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roosterforme · 9 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you and Bradley babysit Cat's son for the evening, you get a preview of what life could be like. You have to watch as your husband has the time of his life, and the ache inside you feels like it will never go away. Bradley starts to wonder why Jake is being singled out at work as he counts down the days to his deployment.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

"We need to come back here," you said as Bradley opened the passenger door of the Bronco for you and buckled you in. "Promise me, Roo. I loved it here too much. Promise we can come back."

Le Chateau California with all its quirky colors and weirdness was so much fun that you didn't even want to leave at noon the next day to go home. But Bob had stayed with Tramp for the night, and you needed to get back in time to babysit Jeremiah for Cat.

"We can come back, Baby Girl." Bradley looked exhausted, and you definitely felt exhausted in your glasses and yoga pants. You and he had gone at it half the night after the dream come true that was the hot sauce vending machine. Your husband was top tier, always finding something silly you'd like and indulging you.

You listened to his Motown playlist as he drove back toward San Diego, looking out the window at the ocean. When you reached across the seat, his hand was there, his fingers warm and ready. "I love you, Roo," you whispered, leaning against the window and dozing off.

When Bradley wrapped his arms around you and carried you inside, you were only semi awake. You registered that he put you in bed and kissed your forehead, and then you napped for another hour or so. You woke up still drowsy but feeling delicious, wondering if you had time to take a bath before Jeremiah got dropped off.

When you went into your bathroom because your bladder was about to burst, tears filled your eyes as soon as you sat down on the toilet. Blood. Your period had started. You knew it was going to. You had the cramps and the moodiness leading up to the weekend to prove it, but until you saw it for yourself, that same delusional feeling of hope had been residing in the back of your mind.

You cried on the toilet for a few minutes. You swore you were going to be done with the tears soon, and grab a tampon and move on with your day. But you were still crying hot, hateful tears when Bradley walked in looking for you.

He must have known what was wrong right away, because he came to kneel in front of you without uttering a word. Then he held both of your hands in his while you ugly cried on his shoulder.

"It's me and you," he whispered. "We're a team, and I love you. We got time."

But you could hear the undertone of sadness in his deep voice. You took a deep breath and said, "I fucking hate the way this feels. It hurts so much."

"I know," he promised. And once again, you felt like you were letting both of you down. "And I hate that you're in tears right now. Do you want me to get your phone and call Cat? Tell her we can't watch her kid?"

You shook your head. You didn't want to cancel now. Cat and Cam could go on their stupid date. They'd probably fall in love and have a million more kids that you'd keep agreeing to watch for them when they went out on more dates. "No, it's fine."

But when Cat arrived a few hours later looking like a smokeshow while you were still in your yoga pants and glasses, you felt even more ridiculous. You opened your front door for them, freezing in place at the sight of the sweet child in her arms. He turned to look at you with a little grin that told you he was probably a bit of a trouble maker. He had the same dark eyes as Cat, and when you greeted him by name, he giggled.

"He likes you," Cat said, stepping inside, and then Bradley was walking out of the kitchen. His face absolutely lit up when he saw Jeremiah, and you had to swallow against more tears. Pleading with yourself would only get you so far when your husband reached out to take Jeremiah into his arms, only to be greeted by little hands reaching up to his mustache.

"Hey, little guy," Bradley laughed, letting Jeremiah touch his face and hair. "We're about to have so much fun. You wanna hear a story about a Super Hornet?"

"Wow," Cat said, handing you a bag while she watched Bradley walk into the living room with Jeremiah in his arms. "The two of you should have kids. Your husband looks like a dad already."

The words felt like a physical punch to your gut, so much so that you staggered back a step. You knew she didn't mean to hurt you, but she had, and now the tears were right there as you desperately tried to blink them away. "Your ex husband wasn't like that?" you asked softly.

Cat looked at you with soft eyes now, and her lips parted a few seconds before she spoke. "He never met Jeremiah," she whispered. You wanted to know more, your curiosity getting the better of you in spite of yourself. But then Cat asked, "Are you okay?"

You nodded vigorously. "Yep, just perfect. You should go before you're late." You peeked into the bag to find some toys and a few snacks while you listened to her directions. But you could hear Bradley laughing while Jeremiah giggled, and you were distracted.

When you opened the door for Cat to leave, your eyes settled on an older SUV parked behind your car. It was so familiar looking with the scratch on the hood and the bent antenna. As she climbed in, you were sure you'd seen it on base before, but you knew she didn't own a car. Maybe it belonged to her uncle? You watched her pull away, certain you had parked next to that SUV at work on Friday.

"Hey, Roo," you called out, walking into the living room. "Do you know anyone at work who drives an older, green Chevy SUV?"

But he wasn't listening. He was laying on his stomach while Jeremiah lined up blocks on his back and giggled. "Look how cute this is," he crooned. "I get to be Godzilla and destroy the city after he builds it." Bradley did indeed growl and crawl around the room with Tramp, knocking the blocks onto the floor while Jeremiah clapped.

Then they did it all over again. It was the cutest thing you had ever seen. A few minutes later, you crashed the party with a sippy cup and a pouch of applesauce, and Jeremiah sat in your lap. He looked up at you as you helped him squeeze the pouch. Tramp kept trying to lick his hands, hoping for a little treat himself.

"He's so sweet," Bradley said softly.

"Yeah," you agreed, enjoying the feel of his warm little body settled back against you while he ate. When he smiled with his few teeth, you smiled back. And when he got applesauce on your area rug, it didn't really matter, because Bradley got a paper towel right away. Even changing his diaper wasn't bad. And then Bradley changed it later, and he did a great job of it. You got Jeremiah into his tiny pajamas with soccer balls all over them, and he just looked so adorable.

When it started to get late, you pulled some books out of the bag, and Jeremiah walked over to where Bradley was sitting on the couch. "You might as well settle in, little guy," Bradley told him. "Her voice is so sweet, she's going to put you right to sleep."

The child curled up against Bradley's chest and looked at you as you started to read a book about rhyming animals. He made it halfway through a second book about eating healthy foods when his eyes started to close. "I tried to warn you," Bradley whispered, wrapping one big arm around Jeremiah's small body as you closed the book. "Her voice is lethal when she uses it like that." He looked at you for a beat and added, "It's lethal when she whines my name, too. But that's a different kind of lethal."

"Don't say that in front of the baby!" you scolded, crawling across the floor to them.

"He can't understand. And look, he's already asleep anyway." You sat at Bradley's feet with your chin on his knee and watched Jeremiah's little body move as he inhaled and exhaled. He was so perfect, you let your heart ache. If you had actually gotten pregnant last June when you went into a panic over your late period, you'd be eight months along right now.

When Bradley ran his fingers along your cheek, you realized you were crying. "It'll happen, Sweetheart."

He looked so content with Jeremiah on him, and he'd clearly had so much fun tonight. He should be a dad. He wanted it, and he'd be excellent at it. Cat was right.

"What if it doesn't?" you asked as he wiped your tears. "I can see how much you want this, Bradley. Looking at you around kids makes me ache."

Then he carefully slid to the floor next to you, holding Jeremiah tight while he slept on. He kissed you softly and wrapped his other hand around you. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I never thought about this stuff before I met you. You are everything I need. Anything else, like a kid, would just be a bonus. But I still think it'll happen."

You nodded as you cried. "I want it to."

"So do I, Baby Girl. You make me feel like I can have everything. Just... give it some more time, okay? We'll get there."

When Cat knocked softly on your front door, you and Jeremiah were both asleep on Bradley. You let Bradley kiss your cheek where you could still feel the tracks of your tears. As you walked over to get the door, you tried to wipe at your face.

"Well? How was your date?" you asked her, but she just sighed as she stepped inside.

"How is it possible that I have zero chemistry with a guy that sweet and cute?"

You immediately perked up. Maybe Jake wasn't completely out of the running. You'd overheard them flirting, and it sounded a little spicy. There was definitely some chemistry there. "Are you going out with Cam again?" you asked cautiously.

"Probably not," she told you with a little frown. "He said he's not a big fan of kids. So I'm not going to ask him out again, and I highly doubt he'll ask me. Which is fine. I don't want to make anything weird at work by trying to force something that just isn't there. You know, since his lab is down the hall from ours."

"Right," you agreed with a nod as Bradley carried a still sleeping Jeremiah over. "Don't want things to get awkward."

You watched Bradley slip his shoes on and whisper, "Want me to just put him in his car seat?"

"Sure," she replied with a smile. "If you don't mind." Once he was out of earshot, Cat turned to you. "Looks like Bradley had a fun time?"

You nodded, swallowing, afraid your voice was going to shake. "We both did. Jeremiah was so sweet."

She smiled and nodded. "I can't thank you enough."

You kind of wanted to tell her that you and Bradley would be more than willing to watch her son again if she decided to change her mind about going out with Jake. But you didn't, because she was already turning to leave.

When Bradley walked inside, he wrapped you up in his arms. "Do your cramps hurt?"

"A little," you replied against his chest.

"Get ready for bed," he whispered. "I'll get your heating pad ready."

"Will you come to bed, too?"

"As soon as I let Tramp out, I'll be in."

You fell asleep with a hopeful heart even though you had your period as you curled up on Bradley's chest.

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

First thing on Monday morning, Jake was on your tail as you walked inside from the parking garage. "I heard Cam took Cat out this weekend," he told you in an accusatory voice. "Did you set them up? Is that why you didn't call me back last night?"

"No, Jake," you sighed. "I didn't set them up. Why would I do that?"

"Because you've known Cam longer than me and you love him more?"

You snorted as you made your way to the elevators. You knew he needed to be in the locker room right now, but he wasn't leaving. "Jake, I went to the movies with Bradley last night. I didn't call you back, because it was late when we got home. And from what I heard, Cat and Cam won't be going out again. Neither of them had a great time, okay?"

"Oh," he said, a bit of a smile making its way to his lips. "Sounds great. See you later."

He walked away and just left you standing there muttering, "What the fuck?" as you pushed the elevator button. Cat was already in the lab when you got there. "How are you always here so early?" you asked her, checking the time.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Have to ride in with Bernie, and he doesn't tolerate being late," she said with a yawn. But then her eyes went wide like she suddenly realized what she had said.

You were absolutely right when you thought that green SUV was familiar. "So your uncle works on base?" you asked with a smirk. "He's in the navy?"

Cat grimaced at you. "Would it absolutely kill you to keep that to yourself?"

"I'll do it for a small fee," you replied.

"Name your price."

"Next time you go on a date, you let us watch Jeremiah again."

She laughed. "I'm not going on another date anytime soon," she swore. "But sure, you can watch Jeremiah in about seventeen years when I date again."

After that you got to work, but when you went downstairs for lunch, you found Bradley at a table with two trays and some of the green hot sauce you loved. "Are you even real?" you asked as you sat down across from him. You were bloated, and you still needed to lose some weight so your uniform fit better, but you were also starving. You inhaled the burrito bowl after you doused it in hot sauce.

"Look," Bradley said, nudging your leg with his foot. When you turned, you saw Cat and Jake both holding trays of food. Neither of them seemed to be making a move to actually sit and eat; they were too busy gazing longingly into each other's eyes as they chatted.

"She should just go out with him," you said with an eye roll. "Like he's good enough to flirt with but not to get dinner with?"

Bradley grunted while he ate. "He's really into her. Apparently he's not sleeping around anymore."

You looked at your husband as he chewed. His cheeks were tinged with a little pink, and he wasn't meeting your eyes. "Sounds like you, Roo."

"You know," he started, shaking his head, "I kind of wish I had changed for myself. But it wasn't until I met you that I knew it was time."

You basked in his words. "Do you even understand how flattering that is?"

He just looked at you, his gaze dipping down to your lips. But then Jake was setting his tray on the table next to you.

"Could you two stop eye fucking each other while I eat?"

You turned to him and glared. "Could you be less of a dick?"

"Absolutely not," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "I asked Cat out again."

Your jaw dropped open. "What did she say?"

"No, of course," he replied, completely unfazed. "I knew she would. But I've changed my tactics. I'll just keep asking until she says yes."

"What if she never says yes?" Bradley asked, lacing his fingers with yours across the table.

"She will," Jake replied, watching Cat as she walked out of the cafeteria. You wanted to bonk their heads together. You also kind of wanted to tell him about Jeremiah and give him a heads up.

But instead you told them both, "Guess who will be working in the tower later this week?"

"Seriously?" Bradley asked with a smile as he leaned across to kiss you.

"Yep. Cat, too."

And now Jake looked pleased as well.

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

Bradley rushed back to base on Thursday morning after his appointment. It took less time than he anticipated, and now he just needed to wait for some results to come in.

"You're up next along with Hangman," Maverick told him as he zipped up his flight suit.

Bradley knew you and Cat were sitting in the tower today, testing out some new software interface signal response thing that made very little sense to him. Honestly, he was just happy you'd be on the receiving end of his communications again today. You'd been there since Tuesday, and Bradley loved it when you moaned softly in his ear after work and said, "I love listening to your voice when you're flying. I always have. So sexy, Roo."

"Fuck," he grunted, ready to get in the air once again. But Hondo had Jake cornered on the tarmac, and he didn't look too happy. He couldn't hear them, but Hondo had his finger pointing at Jake's face. To Jake's credit, he just stood there and took whatever Hondo was dishing out, but Bradley was sure this would mean some push ups were coming their way.

"What did you do to piss him off?" Bradley asked when Jake joined him, and they walked to their aircrafts together.

"Honestly? I'm not even sure," Jake replied, running his hand through his hair before putting his helmet on. "Ol' Hondo and I are usually square."

"That's what I thought. Don't antagonize him. I wanna look cool in front of my wife."

Jake snorted. "Joke's on you, Rooster. Angel, for some bizarre reason, always thinks you look cool."

He watched Jake take off, and then he started to taxi as well. When they were both in the air, they actually worked really well together. Bradley wasn't sure if it was because he knew you were listening in or not, but he communicated great with Jake, and some of the maneuvers they pulled off against Maverick were pretty impressive.

But as soon as they were back on the ground and climbing down their ladders, Bradley heard Hondo laying into Jake again.

"You wanna fly like shit? You're going to do push ups for me all afternoon. Two hundred. Start counting them off, Hangman."

Bradley watched Jake quickly remove his helmet, and for a second it looked like he was going to question Hondo. Bradley knew that was a terrible idea, and yet he didn't understand what they had done to earn the punishment.

Bradley took his helmet off as well and dropped down next to Jake, getting himself in the perfect stance.

"What are you doing, Rooster?" Hondo asked hardhly.

Bradley looked up at him, brow creased in confusion. "Two hundred push ups, sir." Jake was already ten deep by this point.

"I wasn't talking to you when I assigned them, Lieutenant Commander. Get your ass inside."

Bradley looked from Hondo to Jake one more time before he got to his feet and made his way into the rec room, completely unsure about what had just happened. He dropped down on the couch next to Nat who was sound asleep and waited for Jake to finish his punishment.

When he eventually came storming inside, Jake tossed his helmet onto a chair and ran the back of his hand across his sweaty brow.

"What the hell happened?" Bradley asked, getting to his feet.

"Fuck. I have no idea!

"It's always a team effort," Bradley replied, completely baffled. "Your two hundred push ups are my two hundred push ups. But we didn't even fuck up in the air."

Jake wrenched the zipper down on his flight suit. "He made me do three hundred. And it's a million degrees in the sun today.

"Three hundred? What the fuck?"

"If you figure out why Hondo suddenly hates me, please let me know." Jake threw his hands in the air before he downed a bottle of water.

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

You ran down the tower stairs anxious to get to Bradley. You were a little worked up from listening to him flying. It had been so long since you'd been treated to that. You briefly thought about bootlegging an illegal recording of him in the air so you could listen to it when he was deployed in a few weeks when you were needy.

"Baby Girl."

You spun when you heard his raspy voice, and then you were in his arms. He pulled you behind the bottom of the stairwell. It wasn't the most private place, but you had your fingers in his hair immediately, and he was rutting up against you as he dirty kissed you.

"Bradley," you moaned when his lips found your neck. "We can't do this here. And I still have my period." But his fingers were on your buttons anyway, and then one hand was dipping inside your bra.

He stroked your nipple into a tight peak, and you felt yourself clench. "You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you as soon as we get home?"

His mouth moved to the swell of your breast as you whispered, "Yes. Whatever you want."

"My favorite words," he murmured, and you had to forcefully remove his hands from your body. Your breasts were a little sore from your period, but his rough hand somehow made you want more.

"I'll meet you at home?" he asked. "After I hit the locker room?"

"Yes," you agreed. "I still need to carry my equipment back to my office, but I'll see you at home."

Bradley grunted and left you there with your shirt unbuttoned. You quickly fixed yourself up and then started the trek back to the main building. When you passed the aviators' lounge and saw through the small window that it was empty except for Jake, you started to reach for the door handle. But then you froze. When Jake turned a little bit, you saw that he was with Cat, her small form had been eclipsed by his larger one.

"Oh, shit," you whispered. Because Cat was running her fingers through Jake's hair, and then he leaned down to kiss her. And there was no way this was a first kiss or even a second or third. While it was more sweet than sexual, they looked pretty familiar with each other. The way Jake's hand trailed down her arm before settling high on her waist was telling. As was the way Cat smiled against his lips.

You ducked out of the way, afraid of being caught by them. You didn't know what was going on this week. It was like the Twilight Zone or something. Jake kept getting in trouble. And Cat insisted she wouldn't go out with him when clearly she was really, really into him. And you wanted answers that you didn't feel like you were allowed to have. And you were keeping too many secrets.

When you pulled your little car into the driveway, Bradley was already home. You walked inside, intending to tell him about Cat and Jake, but as soon as you set down your bag, your husband was eyeing you up and down.

"You want to finish what we started in the stairwell, don't you, Roo?" you asked, looking up at him with an innocent expression.

He groaned, rubbing himself through his gym shorts. "I've been rock hard for the past hour, Sweetheart."

"You poor thing," you crooned, reaching for him and stroking his cheek softly like he was something to be pitied. "Do you need some help? Anything I could do for you?"

His lips crashed against yours as you slipped your hand down the front of his shorts. He wasn't even wearing any boxer briefs, and he groaned when you palmed his balls. "Fuck, Baby Girl."

"Mmm," you hummed against his lips as you wrapped your hand around his thick cock the best that you could and started to stroke him slowly. "Why don't you tell me what you want?" you whispered against his mustache. "I'll give you a little reward for taking me to that hot sauce vending machine."

Bradley bucked into your hand, and you giggled. But his cheeks were flushed pink, and his eyes looked a little but guarded. You tilted your head, questioning his gaze, and he finally asked, "Will you go put your glasses on?"

"Sure?" you asked, stroking him one last time before you withdrew your hand from his shorts.

Bradley watched you lick his precum from your hands, and he swallowed hard and added, "Any chance you'd give me a blowjob and let me cum on your glasses?"

You were kind of shocked. The two of you had been together for a while, and you would absolutely do that for him. If he wanted it, he could have asked for it before now. God, it sounded fucking hot!

"Only if you take some pictures when you're finished," you told him, wanting to know how that would look.

He swiped his tongue between your lips before smacking you lightly on your butt and pushing you toward the bathroom. "Hurry, Baby Girl."

You quickly removed your contacts and pushed your glasses into place, and when you returned to your bedroom, Bradley was standing there naked, stroking himself slowly. His tip was red and swollen, and he was groaning as he looked at you.

"Oh, you really need me," you acknowledged, dropping to your knees in front of him. "I'll take care of you."

As you parted your lips and let your tongue peek out to swirl around his tip, he gasped. Bradley reached out to adjust your glasses on your face as his cock jumped in anticipation.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you on the drive home," he grunted as you opened wider to take him deeper. "Needed you."

You moaned your approval around him as Bradley thrust and hit the back of your throat. When he placed one hand softly at the back of your head, you let him get a little rough, pushing you where he wanted you.

Gagging over and over again, your eyes started to water. "You look so pretty," he growled. "You're my little slut with your mouth full of my cock."

Oh, he was on a roll at the moment, because you were gagging and nearly crying, but you were also clenching your thighs together, unbelievably turned on by his words. You sucked on him hard, withdrawing him inch by slow inch as his head tipped back.

"Fuuuuck," he groaned. "So good."

You were drooling down the front of your uniform shirt as you took his tip between your lips again. He was so silky smooth against your tongue. It was like a treat that you didn't want to release. You took him a bit deeper, still circling the tip of him with your tongue while you hummed in satisfaction.

"Baby Girl," he snarled. "My wife is so fucking hot."

And then you let him fuck your face hard, gasping for air when you could. You were reaching for him, trying to pull him closer, but suddenly he had your chin in one hand while he stroked himself with the other.

"Roo?" you asked as he jerked your chin a little bit.

"I'm gonna paint you up," he panted, and the first ribbon of his cum hit your glasses making you squeal in delight.

"Keep going," you encouraged. "I want more."

His groan filled your ears, letting you know how much he was enjoying himself. Your glasses were completely coated now, and you couldn't see him very well. He came on your forehead, and it dripped along your nose. He came in your mouth, and you swallowed him down.

"Here," he gasped, running his spent cock along your lips so you'd part them for him. You sucked gently on his softening length while he told you he was taking some pictures. You let him rest on your tongue. "So pretty. Gonna get off to these when I'm deployed."

Soon his fingers were dipping into the mess, and you cleaned them off for him as he knelt down on the floor with you. "That was fun," you told him when you were mostly cleaned up and he was removing your glasses.

"Thank you," he rasped, kissing your cheek softly. "I figured it didn't matter if I came in your pussy today since you're not fertile right now."

His words hit you, making you frown as he stood up and pulled you to your feet. So fucking you and giving you a creampie was only imperative if you were ovulating and trying for a baby? You tried not to think about his words as you walked back into the bathroom and washed your face and glasses. He probably hadn't meant to send that prickly feeling of annoyance along your skin. But he looked sated and happy now while you were...not.

"How do you feel about pizza for dinner?" he asked, scrolling through the photos he had taken. "Jesus, look at you. In your uniform, too," he muttered.

You looked at the photos with him. He wasn't wrong. You looked hot covered in his cum like that. It was a rank kink fantasy. "I like that one the best," you told him, pointing to one where you had his cock cushioned on your tongue. "And pizza sounds fine."

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

Bradley was starting to feel anxious about his deployment. It wasn't helping that he had to keep watching Jake get roasted by Hondo day after day. But to his surprise, Jake really held it together, showing only the highest level of respect.

"Yes, sir," Jake told Hondo, promptly unzipping the top of his flight suit and starting the five mile run which he had been assigned as a punishment.

When Bradley asked if he should join Jake, Hondo once again told him to get his ass inside. Still baffled, Bradley made his way back home for the evening. He beat you there, and it was a good thing, too. His results had arrived in the mail. He tossed all the other mail aside and ripped into the envelope, but as soon as he scanned through it, he heard your car in the driveway.

"Thank goodness that piece of shit is so loud," he groaned about your car, quickly shuffling all of the mail into a neat stack and pushing it to the side. He'd sort it out later. But when you came in, he was writing up a harmless list of things he needed from Amazon on the whiteboard that hung on the refrigerator. A ten foot phone charger, earplugs in case he didn't get to bunk with Bob, a silicone ring, and some protein bars.

"Hi, Roo," you called from the living room. You had apparently picked up your dress whites from the dry cleaner in preparation of your promotion banquet. He, and everyone else, had already taken to calling you Lieutenant Commander. And he loved calling you Bradshaw as well. Your promotion ceremony would just be a formality, just as his had been. But he couldn't wait to pin your new insignia on your uniform for the first time.

He kissed you and held you close, before he whispered, "Don't forget, it's Hard Deck night," just to annoy you.

"Oh, my god!" you groaned dramatically as you laughed and pushed him away. "You're as annoying as Jake."

"Fucking ouch," he shouted after you as you went into the bedroom. Your laughter filled him up. "Hey, you need anything from Amazon?" he called out.

"No, I'm good," you replied, and he tried to do a better job of hiding the mail. But then you added, "I'd be better if you were in here... helping me get undressed," and he dropped everything.

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

Hey, Uncle Bernie. Hey Roo, hiding the mail. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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sxcret-garden · 6 days

Text

4th Desire ღ Hush, My Dear [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ words: ~5.8k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, a bit of angst, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, semi-public (they have to keep quiet cause reader’s family is literally in the other room), quickie, clothed sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pain kink, biting (idol receiving), he’s lowkey mean… again askjfkljas, orgasm denial, praise) ღ warnings: reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mentions of her mother trying to convince her to wear a dress to an event even though reader doesn’t like wearing them, mentions of a bad experience Jongho had in his past relationship, (him running his fingers through reader’s hair)

Desc.: Dinner with your family goes about as you expected - you’re slightly uncomfortable because of their choices in conversation topics and very much bored. Luckily, your boyfriend tagged along and knows just how to make you feel better, and in the process he too seems to be able to finally let go of his worries.

Author's note: This has a bit of a different pacing than the chapters so far... fun fact! It's also the first chapter I wrote for this fic... no I don't write them in order, that would be way too simple kalsdjflksda

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“Necklace or no necklace?” you ask, raising your voice a little so your boyfriend would hear you in the other room. You hear footsteps, and not much later his figure appears in the doorframe to his room, where you’re looking yourself in the big mirror next to his wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear.

“Y/N…” he mutters your name, and as you shoot his reflection behind you a look, you immediately respond,

“I know…”

“It’s just your family,” he says it nevertheless and he walks over to you. Coming to a halt right behind you, his palms find your waist as he lets his gaze take in your figure through the mirror. “You don’t have to dress up for them.”

“I know,” you say once again, peeling yourself out of his hold in order to walk over to the far end of the closet, pulling out yet another different necklace. “This one?” you ask and Jongho gives you a huff, a sympathetic smile showing on his face.

“Did you hear what I said?” he questions, coming closer to put his hand above yours. “Wear what’s comfortable. Your parents won’t expect you to look like you’re going to some big event.”

“Well you’re the one talking…” You shoot his outfit a look - neat black pants paired with a knitted sweater in dark colors and a button-up shirt underneath it. You can tell he put at least some thought behind it.

“Hey,” his gums show as he smiles at you. “I’m trying to leave a good impression on your parents, okay? You’re their daughter, not the boyfriend who needs to make sure they like him,” he chuckles.

“They already love you. You could show up in pajamas and they’d be fine with it,” you retort.

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” You put the necklaces back to their assigned space in your boyfriend’s wardrobe, before closing its doors. You decide against wearing one after all.

“Actually… we still have time, so I want to ask you something,” you start, turning towards him. “Let’s sit down first?”

“Sure.” You notice by the way his stance changes ever so slightly that your partner can sense you have a more or less serious question. Really, you’re just curious about something that’s been on your mind for a while now. Making yourselves comfortable in the living room, you clear your throat and pose your question.

“You’re being very careful… ever since we started experimenting more while having sex,” you state. “And I appreciate that! It’s just making me wonder if there’s a reason to that, other than for general safety’s sake? Because I feel like you really don’t have to check in with me as many times as you do.” You were afraid he might not share your opinion on this, and feel criticized for something that seems perfectly reasonable to him. But to your relief he seems to know what you’re trying to say.

“Ah… you’re right,” Jongho responds, and then he thinks for a while. “There is a reason for that, actually,” he then says. You guess it might have something to do with his previous girlfriend, and it looks like you’re correct in that assumption. “I told you about how me and my ex tried going in that direction too, right?”

“Right.” The way he suddenly becomes very serious makes you tense up as well - it’s like a barely noticeable darkness reflecting in his gaze.

“So we didn’t want the same things… a lot of the time. There was this one specific thing - I’ll spare you the details here - that she kept wanting to try out but I always said no because it felt too risky for me.”

“Makes sense.”

“And one day we were out with friends, drinking.” You have a hunch what his story might lead up to, and you furrow your eyebrows as you listen on. “And we came home tipsy. Not totally drunk, we were still aware of what we were doing, but also not sober. And this time I gave in, thinking if it’s something that will give my partner pleasure, it will be fine.”

“It wasn’t fine…?” you guess, and a short and regretful laugh escapes him.

“No…”

“Oh,” you breathe.

“I hurt her that day. Not seriously, and not permanently. But it could’ve been avoided… and I think that’s why I’m being so extra careful with you. I swore to myself after that, that I wouldn’t do certain things if I’ve had something to drink or I’m too tired.” He glances up at you now, one finger swiping his hair covering his face to the side as his features soften, and he looks at you as if you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. “But I guess I’m more afraid of hurting you than I thought I was.”

“So that’s why…” you respond. “I thought you were overdoing it a bit,” you admit. “But now I get why you’re so focused on making sure I’m okay at all times… thank you.” Grasping his hands in yours now, you look him right in the face. “I mean it. Thank you for keeping me safe.” He can only watch and blush when you bring your joint hands up, brushing a kiss onto his knuckles with your lips. “But now I’m wondering… can you enjoy it like that? I mean.. it must be stressful to always carry that fear with you.” There’s a complicated expression on his face now, and he hesitates for a second before he speaks.

“Yes and no,” he answers honestly. “I am enjoying it, please don’t misunderstand! But… yeah, I think you noticed that overall I’m not letting go as much as I might be able to without those fears. Except for last time…”

“When I called you-”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t let you say it out loud, and you wonder why. Does it really affect him that much?

“Then…” You give him a reassuring smile. “When you’re ready to let go of that fear, you can. I trust that you won’t hurt me. And I promise I will say something if you’ve overstepped a boundary or I feel unsure about something. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mouths. You get up to take a step towards him, closing the distance between the two of you, and you put your arms around him, bringing your hand up into his hair as he leans into your embrace. “Sorry for overcomplicating things and not telling you sooner,” he mutters, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, fingers combing through his locks. “You have a very good reason. Don’t feel pressured to go against your gut feeling, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you too for understanding.”

You remain like this for a while, and the longer you stay in this position, the harder it becomes to tear yourself away from the warmth of the hug. However, eventually you force yourself to step back anyway, because it is soon time to make your way to your parent’s place.

It’s half past 6 on this Saturday when the two of you arrive at your destination to have dinner with your parents and your grandparents. The invitation had come suddenly, and not completely unrelated to your cousin revealing that she and her long-time boyfriend would get married soon. Your mother had already warned you over the phone that she wanted to discuss some “details” with you, and that you and Jongho should come over for dinner on the weekend. You could only guess that those details would be mostly about trying to convince you what you should wear for the occasion according to her, and once you arrive at your childhood home, it doesn’t take long for that fear to come true.

“Oh my, who do we have here?” your mother greets you and, mostly, your boyfriend, who she seems to like a lot. It’s really no secret that ever since you first introduced him to her, she too wishes her daughter would get married soon. Though you’re nowhere near ready for taking such a huge step, so whenever the topic arises, you do your best to quickly switch to a different one. However, today her concerns aren’t of your marital status, but of - as you had guessed - your planned outfit for your cousin’s wedding.

Pulling you aside after making sure everyone else is seated at the dinner table, entertaining themselves with a conversation about who knows what, her demeanor immediately changes and she becomes serious.

“So, Y/N…” The moment she calls you by your name, you startle just a little bit. “I’ve been thinking.” Whenever she uses that line, you know something uncomfortable is about to go down.

“What is it?” you reply, acting as if you didn’t already know the answer.

“For your cousin’s wedding… you’re not gonna show up in that suit again, right?” Memories of the last occasion you decided to go with neat dark blue dress pants and a fitting blazer instead of the dress that multiple people apparently expected you to wear come back to you and you gulp.

“I was going to,” you say, and your mother sighs. It’s a condescending sigh, one that’s supposed to tell you how naive and young you are and how you should trust your mother’s words, who surely knows better.

“You should wear a dress at least for her wedding,” she says. “Don’t you think? I mean… every young woman there is going to wear one!”

“How do you know that?” you dare to talk back at her, but she raises her eyebrows at you in response. Evading your question, she continues,

“You’re so young and such a pretty girl! It would be a waste if you went in pants.” With a bitter taste in your mouth and a glance towards the living room where the conversation seems to be dying down a bit, you retort,

“Mom, can we talk about this another time? I think everyone’s waiting for us to join…” Not expecting your attempt at getting out of this uncomfortable conversation to work, you’re surprised when she gives in and you find her agreeing with you.

“Okay, I’ll call you about it during the week. Don’t even think about not picking up!” she adds, lifting a finger as a silent warning, and then she lets you off the hook, walking into the living room where everyone else is gathered. Letting out a deep sigh, you too follow.

Eventually you reach the part of the evening where the conversations of your family members are starting to bore you. Just because you've moved past the uncomfortable questions (at least you know your mother won’t bother you about your outfit for the wedding in front of the others) doesn't mean you feel particularly up for engaging in their small talk and occasional political debate. If you're being completely honest, you just might've been fine if it was only the small talk.

Yet here you are, watching your parents and grandparents argue about economics and politicians, and from the way Jongho is reaching over to place his hand on your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze as he tries not to frown too much at what's unfolding at the table, you can tell he notices your discomfort too. And it's not like you didn't warn him, it's not like he didn't assure you multiple times that it's fine, he doesn't mind, he wants to come to your family dinner anyway. But now you can't help but feel apologetic to him.

As if he knew what's going through your head when you shoot him a look, your eyebrows furrowed, he shakes his head and leans in to whisper in your ear,

"Are you okay?" Frankly, you're not okay per se. Used to this is what you are, and equating one with the other in your mind, you give him a weak nod.

"They'll stop... eventually," you whisper back, so the people in question wouldn't hear. And they really do stop a mere moment later. To your dismay, they pause their noise only to comment on you and your boyfriend instead.

"The two lovebirds... look at how they can't wait until they're alone." It's your grandma of all people who makes the comment, a knowing grin sitting on her face and you feel uncomfortable. You know it's just how people act when they see a young couple - they tease. But that doesn't mean you particularly appreciate what's probably just an expression of them being happy for you.

"Mom!" your mother exclaims and everyone laughs. You glance over at Jongho, and you see him smiling along to their bickering. It's a polite smile, nothing more, because he knows how much you hate receiving this kind of attention.

"Well it's true, isn't it?" your grandma defends herself, the creases around her eyes deepening with mischief. "We were like this too when we were their age." Now she shoots your grandpa a look, one filled with warmth as he gives her a somewhat awkward laugh because of her straightforwardness, and then puts his arm around her frame to pull her in close for a moment. You can't help but wonder if you too will still be as in love with your partner once you've reached their age, and your gaze naturally wanders over to your boyfriend sitting next to you. The familiar sight of his smile, the way he lowers his head ever so slightly because after all he's still a little shy around your family, and the way he sits up straight the exact moment your father asks him a question to start a conversation all fill your chest with warmth. Without thinking, he lets his palm glide up and down your thigh once as he answers, and just as you're about to put your hand above his, he deprives you of his touch, gesturing along with the way he talks instead. You listen to them chat as the rest of the family returns to political debates, and in your father's face you can unmistakably see that, just like your mother, he's taking a liking to your boyfriend, and it fills you with relief. And yet you soon find your mind drifting off again, wondering what would happen if your boyfriend put his hand back on your thigh, letting it wander just a bit higher. Wondering how far he could technically go without anyone else at the table noticing - though you know he’d never cross the line in front of other people. And so instead you fantasize about how he would continue unknowingly riling you up, or maybe he’d be aware of it, he is Jongho after all. He’d tease you and keep an eye on you all while making sure to keep the conversation going naturally, so that not a single soul would even guess that you’re craving for him to touch you, and he’s craving for you to beg for it. And then, after dinner is finally over, he’d pull you to another room, and-

Jongho’s hand actually returning to your thigh pulls you out of your thoughts, and as he glances over to you, noticing how your mind is drifting off further and further from the conversation at the dinner table, he moves his palms a little more towards the inside of your leg. You almost startle at the sensation, and at what it inevitably stirs up inside of you, and so you turn to look at him. As soon as you do, you find him already staring back at you, the expression on his face having changed almost unnoticeably. He leans in to mutter something in your ear again, and with it, his fingertips move towards your middle just a bit, sparking desire deep inside you once again.

"Shall we get out of here for a minute?" Thankful for his suggestion, you nod, and with the excuse of you having a headache along with assuring everyone that you'll be fine, you just need some quiet, so as to prevent anyone from following you two, he leads you out of the living room and towards the bathroom at the other end of the corridor. As soon as you close the door behind you, locking up as well, he pulls you towards him by the hand he's already holding.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyes wandering to your lips instinctively, and with his free hand he captures your chin.

"Whatever..." you breathe.

"Don't say that," your boyfriend retorts, tilting his head to the side a little, now looking you in the eyes instead. "I can tell you kept zoning out in the middle of their conversations."

"Can you blame me?" You give him a huff and a weak smile as you look away and he lets go of your chin to comb his fingers through your hair instead.

"No, to be honest." Now he as well shows you an apologetic smile. "What were you thinking about when trying to drown out the sound of their arguing?"

"Just... nothing much," you answer, suddenly worried about whether he saw right through you or if his question didn't have so much meaning behind it after all.

"You sure? I noticed that you were upset when I took my hand away earlier... you sure it was nothing much?" You gulp at his tone, the way his voice alone reveals that he very much has a pretty good guess about what you've been fantasizing about for most of the evening. And at the same time he's now taking a step towards you, forcing you to back away and eventually your behind hits the edge of the sink, with your boyfriend now towering above you.

"I..." you try to say something, but it seems your body language already tells him everything he needs to know, because now he's placing one hand on the small of your back as he leans in, his lips hovering just beside your ear.

"Cause I've been thinking about dragging you off to somewhere else and putting you in a better mood for a whole while now." You swallow thickly, and when he takes a proper look at your face to see your reaction to his words, all you can do is part your lips and whisper a confession.

"Me too." He retrieves his hand from behind you, his palm wandering to your sides and then to your front, dragging it up across your chest and letting his fingertips graze your throat on its journey to finally cupping your face. Your eyelids flutter shut almost instantly as his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, and then he leans in, coming to a halt a mere inch apart from you.

"Want me to entertain you for a bit?" His enticing offer leaves you unable to do anything but nod, and when you take a glance at his face you don't miss the look he’s giving you, knowing he already has you under his spell. However, Jongho doesn't leave you much time to think about it as he kisses you slowly, a pace meant solely to make you crave for more. You throw your arms around his shoulders as you let him part your lips to deepen the kiss, and still it ends too soon. The pleading expression in your eyes only makes him chuckle, but for now he gives you what you undeniably want and he kisses you again.

His hands wander towards your hips eventually, and after pulling down your pants and underwear just enough for comfortable access, one of his hands keeps you in place while the other finds your core. A mere finger, dragged up and down your folds painfully slowly, is enough to have you moan into his kiss, and next thing you know he pulls back and ceases all motions. Shaking his head at you, he mutters,

"They might hear us."

"R-right..." you whisper an answer, already having forgotten all about your family still chatting merrily not too far away from you.

"Let's be careful," Jongho says, shushing you while momentarily removing his hand from your side. Not letting you wait, he continues his teasing motions, and you bite your bottom lip as you try not to make a sound under his touch and his more than curious gaze scanning even the tiniest of your reactions. "What?" he whispers, a somewhat mocking tone in his voice. "Didn't think you'd already be that wet just from thinking about me all evening." And before you can even come up with anything to say in your defense, he dips a finger inside you quite effortlessly, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand. The act makes him smirk, and he pushes you back into the edge of the sink to keep you from moving around. Clicking his tongue at you as quietly as he possibly can while the amusement in his gaze is apparent, he says,

"So impatient." Furrowing your brows, you shoot him a pleading expression that causes his features to soften, and he adds another finger. "That what you want?" Nodding, you can see his eyes growing darker, and you squeeze yours tightly shut as he watches on, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Feels so good, hm?" he keeps talking, his voice low and quiet, and you dig your fingertips into the fabric of his shirt where it covers his shoulders.

"Y-yeah..." you answer, doing everything in your might to keep your volume at a whisper.

"Shh," he, however, shushes you. "Don't talk. You don't wanna risk getting caught, do you?" And so you do as he says, merely shaking your head vigorously, and earning yourself a kiss brushed against your lips.

"Good girl." And then he picks up the pace just a bit, thumb now pressed against your clit, and the way he curls his fingers against that perfect spot deep inside you makes your head spin.

"Fuck," you mouth, and you earn a sharp look from your boyfriend, but he keeps going nonetheless. You can feel your knees getting weak as you melt under his touch, heatwaves rushing through your body with every time he pulls out and pushes back inside. And then, just as your high starts building up in your stomach and you throw your head back, he pulls out just as slowly as he started. For a second you stare at him blankly, but when he takes a step back, you immediately find yourself protesting.

"Don't do this... not now, please..." You can tell exactly how satisfied he is with himself for riling you up like that and then withdrawing just as you were about to find your sweet release by the cocky grin he's giving you, head leaned back ever so slightly so he could triumphantly look down at you even better.

"Why?" he asks. "It's far too risky to let you lose control. Remember?" He leans in closer now, his fingers that have just been inside your pussy merely a few seconds ago now brushing against your lips just before he leans in, the tip of his tongue licking your juices off your mouth. "They might hear us." Unable to say a word, all you can do is reach out for him, cling to him as he tries to walk backwards.

"No, please... baby... need you so bad..." You press your thighs together tightly as you speak those words, his gaze immediately dropping down to your legs as he registers the movement, and as his pupils darken, he slowly lets his eyes wander back up to your face.

"Then what do you want?"

"Just fuck me please... do whatever you want but please fuck me..."

"Love..." he calls out to you rather softly now, quite in contrast to the firm grip on your ass that he pulls you towards him with. You suck in a breath as you can unmistakably feel his bulge against your lower stomach, but Jongho doesn't waver. "I don't think you can keep quiet if I do whatever I want with you."

"I can... please..." you push him, and he seems to ponder on your plea for a moment. Just when he lets go of you, you think this is it, you're not getting what you want tonight, but then you see him unzip his own pants, and before you can think any further, he orders,

"Turn around." You don't hesitate. All you do is do as he says, facing yourself in the mirror as you bend over the sink as far as the insufficient space between its edge and the glass surface in front of you lets you. You can see his eyes being glued to you from behind, one hand moving to your back and pulling your shirt up as your boyfriend moves it towards your shoulders, while he's giving himself a few strokes with the other. His palm wanders back down, fingertips tracing your spine, and you arch your back for him as he follows your shape, eventually letting his hand rest on your ass.

"That's right," he mutters, rubbing circles onto your skin before squeezing the flesh. For a second there you prepare yourself for impact, but he's already steadying your hips, aligning himself with your cunt. Even just his tip parting your folds makes you shudder, and so he leans forward, until he can comfortably place his hand over your mouth.

"Is it okay if I do that?" he asks, whispering, and you nod your head in desperation. At this point you think you'd comply with almost anything if only he finally filled you up, and at the same time you feel warmth spreading in your chest as he checks in on you and makes sure you're comfortable. And then he pushes up into you, forcing you to bite down a moan that would've almost escaped, and you find yourself agreeing with his earlier words. There really is no way in hell you could keep quiet when he has his way with you. And yet you manage to keep it down as he settles inside you with his full size.

"One sound and I won't let you cum, got that?" he warns, and you can barely nod as he begins rolling his hips into you. Though he starts slow, he too seems close to losing his composure as he picks up speed, using you to chase his own high as well. And even though the pleasure keeps gradually building up deep inside of you, you can keep it together so far. However, when his other hand lets go of your hips so he could rub circles against your clit instead, you know he's about to drive you insane. And so, as a moan threatens to escape your throat, you do the only other thing you can think of as an alternative - you sink your teeth into the palm of his hand. With him bringing you closer to the edge with every repetition of his movements, you don't pay attention to the impact of your actions, but when you bite down harder you can suddenly hear your boyfriend hissing a curse above you.

"Fuck..." Finding the reflection of his face in the mirror and the way his features distort in pleasure as he fucks you harder only causes you to apply even more force to how you’re biting down on his palm, and in turn he tightens his grip on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut as you're about to roll them back from all the sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm comes crashing down on you, shaking you whole. Only a mere second later, a strained grunt escapes your boyfriend as he cums inside you, halting at once to allow for you both to come down from your highs.

He pulls out carefully as you release his hand, and grabbing a few paper towels, he begins cleaning you up. With one arm around your waist he helps you stand, the other wiping clean the insides of your thighs, making you shake whenever he grazes your still sensitive core.

"You okay?" he asks finally, placing a kiss just below your ear as he holds you close, letting you rest with your back against his chest.

"Yeah..." you whisper, before remembering his hand. "What about you?" You turn around, reaching for his wrist to take a closer look at his palm, only to find very apparent bite marks there. You can't help but snort at the situation, remarking, "Well, I guess it's not the noise we need to worry about now."

"Ah... right..." Taking a look at the mark himself, an embarrassed smile now graces his face, gums showing as his ears take on a soft shade of pink. You take a hold of his hand again, bringing it up to your mouth now.

"It's okay," you say, blowing some cool air onto it, before placing gentle kisses all over the mark. "I'll make it better."

You return to the table significantly later than what would’ve been a timespan where you could be sure nobody would get suspicious, but thankfully the only question you receive is whether your “headache” is better now or not as everyone’s busy cleaning up the table. Your boyfriend immediately takes a heavy looking stack of dirty plates from your mother’s hands and carries them to the kitchen instead, and once again it makes you happy to see what a good impression your parents have of him.

“You really picked a good guy, Y/N,” your mother tells you as she moves over closer to you, and you agree silently as you glance over to where his back is disappearing in the kitchen. Caught up in your feelings, you startle as she claps her hands together next to you, the loud sound immediately makes you look at her. “You get to work too! You’re gonna have to be a good wife to him!”

“Mom!” you call out, finding several things that bother you about that sentence, but in the end only addressing one. “We haven’t even been dating for that long!”

“Oh,” she throws one hand over her mouth, before smiling with a hint of mischief in her eyes, just like your grandma had done earlier. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself. But can you blame me?” Now putting her hand on your shoulder, she points in the direction of the kitchen, and following her movement with your eyes, your gaze soon comes to rest on your boyfriend, who gives you a smile upon noticing.

“Jongho,” you call out to him to make him come over to you. “Can you tell my mom to stop simping over you?”

“What?” they ask, in unison, but very much for different reasons, as your boyfriend can’t help but smile in amusement, whereas your mother adds, “What’s simping…?” And before you can explain, your boyfriend chimes in,

“It’s a good thing, I promise.”

“Ah, well,... either way, someone’s gonna have to get dessert ready, and I assume it’s not your father,” your mother switches topic, shooting you a look. And then, glancing at Jongho and then back to you, she adds, “But that won’t be a problem you’re gonna have, right?” Walking away with that, she leaves you to protest in vain and to internally die of embarrassment, and when you see your boyfriend merely laughing at the situation, you’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here…” you mutter, but he shakes his head, one arm snaking around your body loosely.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” he tries to reassure you, and yet your mood won’t change.

“But I’m not… I hate it when they are like this. They act like we’re already married…”

“Hey…” He pulls you aside, fingertips dancing down your arms until he takes a hold of your hands. “They like me. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, averting your gaze because you really don’t want to keep discussing this, but at the same time you can’t shake the feeling that they’re taking this too far too quickly. And instead of dwelling on the topic, your boyfriend now finds reason to complain about something entirely different.

“You guess?” he asks, his tone making it sound like he’s upset, but the playful spark in his gaze as he raises his eyebrows at you tells you he’s just fooling around.

“I mean… no, it’s a good thing,” you correct yourself, shooting him a thankful smile for attempting to cheer you up and then letting him pull you into a quick hug, before your mother starts calling everyone to the dinner table again in order to have dessert. It’s self-made chocolate cake, sweet just as you like it, and even though you know it couldn’t possibly match your boyfriend’s tastes, he still finishes his entire plate.

“This is why they like you so much,” you mutter eventually, when people start moving again to get ready for bed. “You’re risking a tummy ache just to make them happy.” He can’t say anything to that, having been caught red-handed by you, who wouldn’t not know his ulterior motive behind forcing himself through sugary hell. So instead, you get up, touching his shoulder lightly as you do. “Let’s get ready for bed too?”

You help your mother put the remaining plates and cutlery into the dishwasher before brushing your teeth and eventually moving to your old room with your boyfriend. Making yourselves comfortable under your blanket which is that much fluffier than the one you’re using at his place, you immediately feel sleep tugging at your bones and you let out a content sigh.

“Say…” you mumble, facing him as you’re both rolled over onto your sides. “You didn’t seem so anxious about possibly hurting me today.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he whispers a response, sounding as if he hadn’t really noticed that fact himself.

“Is it because we didn’t have much time?” you ask, grinning at the thought of your dirty little secret that you’re keeping from everyone else in the house. Jongho thinks for a short while, but then he shakes his head along with an “mh-mh” coming from his side.

“Because I trust you.” Your smile widens at his words. “I think the trust that you’ll say no if you want me to stop is finally bigger than the fear of accidentally hurting you…”

“That’s good,” you respond, reaching out to place your palm onto his cheek, squishing it lightly between your fingers and contrary to the expected reaction, Jongho merely raises his eyebrows at you slowly, as if he couldn’t properly process what you just did. Letting go of him, you move your hand towards the back of his head instead and your partner shows you a delayed shy smile. “I’m really glad for that,” you whisper, before you roll onto your back and he reaches out for your hand in order to place a goodnight kiss onto the back of it.

“Me too.”

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