#real recognizes real and you’re real I guess

[angelsuecult]

a lonely night | s. crosby ff

“it was the only time

and if i led you on then i apologize”

warnings: explicit sexual content, MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough encounters, strong language, unprotected sex, smut

summary: what was meant to be a casual fling has sidney wanting more from a woman who has made her intentions clear.

wordcount: 4.2k

song: a lonely night - the weeknd

a/n: this is lowkey my first time ever writing something like this so it might not be the best but i like it. i hope you guys do too! also i didn’t proofread so it might be all over the place, sorry!

———

It was a crowded charity event, one of those high-profile affairs where athletes and celebrities mingle, the kind of scene Sidney usually tolerated more than enjoyed. He had just scored a hat-trick the night before, so naturally, the room was abuzz with people trying to congratulate him, trying to been seen with him. He wore that success with a bit more arrogance than usual tonight—shoulders squared, chin up, a smirk tugging at his lips as he worked the room.

You were there as well, not out of any real obligation but because your PR team insisted it would be good for your image. You moved through the crowds with an effortless grace, accepting compliments with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. You were used to this, to people fawning over you, wanting a piece of you. But you weren’t here for them.

When Sidney caught sight of you, something about your presence struck him—maybe it was the way you seemed almost indifferent to the attention you received, like you had better things to do. Or maybe it was the way your gaze, when it did meet his, was steady and unflinching, showing no sign of anything really.

He approached you with a self-assured stride, that trademark Crosby confidence, expecting you to respond like everyone else did—flattered, intrigued, maybe even a little starstruck.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, voice smooth, carrying that undercurrent of cocky charm.

“And you must be Sidney Crosby,” you replied, your tone natural, giving nothing away.

His smile widened. “I guess that makes us the center of attention, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself, babe. I’m here for the free drinks.”

Sidney chuckled, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. You weren’t playing along, weren’t biting the bait he dangled so casually. “You’re not a hockey fan, I take it?”

“I’m a fan of a good game,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “But I’m not here to feed anyone’s ego.”

Sidney’s smirk faltered for a second before he recovered. “That’s refreshing,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Most people in this room can’t get enough of it.”

You met his gaze head-on, unbothered by how close he was now. “Maybe they’re just better at pretending than I am.”

Sidney's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping in. “So, what are you pretending to do here then?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “Charity. Same as you, I’m guessing.”

“Except people actually want to see me here,” he shot back, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“And I’m sure that helps you sleep at night,” you replied, not missing a beat.

There was a brief silence, charged with the tension of your verbal back and forth. Sidney was used to winning, on and off the ice, but this was a different kind of game, one where his usual moves didn’t seem to land the way he expected.

Finally he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you with a new level of interest. “I gotta say, this night just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said leaning in. “I don’t meet many people who aren’t impressed by me.”

“Maybe you should meet more people,” you suggested.

Sidney smirked, recognizing the game you were playing. “Maybe. But most of them aren’t as interesting as you.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, keeping your expression unchanged.

“Who said I was trying to go anywhere?” he shot back, his smirk widening.

A beat of silence settled once more, this time it was thick with tension. Sidney was used to women being drawn to him, used to his charm working like a well-oiled machine. But you weren’t giving him anything, and that only made him more determined.

“So if you’re not a fan of hockey, what are you a fan of?” he asked, trying a different approach.

“I never said I wasn’t a fan of hockey,” you replied, your tone still calm, still controlled. “I just said I’m not a fan of yours.”

The words hung in the air between them, shark and unexpected. Sidney blinked, taken aback for a split second before he could regain his composure.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to work on changing that,” he said, his voice low, almost daring.

“Good luck,” you said, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You’ll need it.”

———

Later that evening, after the event had wound down and most of the crowd had thinned out, Sidney found himself in the hotel bar. He wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, his mind still buzzing with the thrill of the evening. There was something about you—something that got under his skin in a way that he wasn’t used to.

He wasn’t surprised to see you there as well, sitting alone at the bar, a half empty glass of whiskey in front of you. He slid onto the stool beside you without an invitation.

“You don’t strike me as the type to drink alone,” he said, signaling the bartender for his own drink.

You barely glanced at him. “Maybe I’m not alone.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is here.”

You gave a small smile. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Sidney took a sip of his drink, studying you. There was something about you, something that intrigued him beyond just surface-level attraction. Maybe it was the way you held yourself, or the way you seemed immune to the usual charm he used so effortlessly.

“So, what’s your deal?” he asked, leaning back slightly.

You sighed, swirling the liquid in your glass. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. Sidney didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to bridge the gap that seemed to open between you.

“Look,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less cocky than before. “I’m not here to mess with you. I just-”

You cut him off, your tone laced with sarcasm. “Wanted to see if you could score off the ice too?”

Sidney opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it again, realizing there was no easy way to explain himself. “Maybe,” he admitted after a moment. “But not like that.”

Your expression softened slightly, though you tried to keep your guard up. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it, “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.”

“Maybe you could try harder then,” you suggested, your voice tinged with challenge.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You smirked, finally allowing him the satisfaction of a small smile. “So I’ve heard.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the tensions between you shifted into something else—something warmer, Sidney found himself leaning in, drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. But just as he was about to close the distance, you pulled back, placing a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m not looking for anything more than tonight,” you said firmly, your gaze steady on his.

He nodded, slowly, understanding what you were saying, but not entirely sure he could accept it. “Neither am I,” he lied.

You saw through it, but didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your lips slightly against his in a kiss that was more a test than a promise. You smiled, a real smile this time, and it was like a punch to his gut. “Good. Then let’s keep it simple.”

He reached out to push a strand from your face, his fingers lingering longer than they should have, “Simple’s good.

You pulled away, your gaze never leaving his as you brushed your hair over your shoulder. “Then let’s get out of here.”

———

The atmosphere in the elevator was thick with tension, the kind that had been building since the moment your eyes first mentioned. You guys had barely made it inside before the doors slid shut, and the confined space only seems to amplify the electricity between you. The second the doors closed, all acts were dropped.

His hands were on you before you could even take a breath, his strong fingers gripping your waist, pulling you against him. You responded immediately, your hand sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, before wrapping around his neck to pull him down to your level. Your lips crashed together in a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue, like you both had been holding back for far too long.

There was no gentleness in the way you both moved, only raw, unrestrained desire. Sidney’s hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His hands were rough as they slid up your thighs, hiking your dress around your waist, his fingers brushing against the lacy edge of your panties. You moaned softly against his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding you slick and ready. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he began to stroke you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug deep into his clothed shoulders, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from crying out.

“Sidney,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need as he pressed his thumb against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. The sounds coming from you were obscene, a mix of moans and whimpers that echoed off the walls of the small elevator.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Sidney groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you come undone beneath his touch. His fingers quickened their pace, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The elevator seemed to crawl up to his floor, each second stretching out in agonizing anticipation. Sid growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against you in a way that made your knees weak. Before you could fall over that edge, the elevator dinged, signaling the arrival on his floor. Sidney pulled his hand away leaving you panting and on the verge of begging. The smug grin on his face told you he knew what he was doing to you, and it only made you want him more.

As soon as the doors opened, Sidney pulled you out into the hallway, barely giving you time to adjust to the change before he was on you again. You stumbled down the hallway, hands fumbling with clothes as you went. You gasped as Sidney pushed you up against a wall, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

“Baby,” you breathed, your voice a mix of need and impatience as you tugged at the buttons of his shirt, trying to pull it off of him. He laughed, a dark, sinful sound that sent a thrill down your spine as he leaned back just enough to rip the shirt open himself.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for you again, this time hooking a hand around your thigh to hook your leg up around his waist. You didn’t bother with a response, instead letting out a soft moan as you felt the hard length of him pressing against you. Your dress was riding up, barely covering anything at this point, and he took full advantage, his hands slipping under the fabric to squeeze your ass, pulling you even closer.

“Room,” you managed to gasp, your voice strained with the effort of holding yourself together. “We need to get to the room.”

Sidney grunted in agreement, but didn’t release you. Instead, he adjusted his hold on you, practically lifting you off the ground as he continued down the hallway, his lips never leaving yours. You barely made it to the door before he was pinning you against it, his fingers digging into your hips as he rubbed against you, the friction making you both groan.

It took a moment to fumble for the keycard in his pocket, and you used the opportunity to suck on his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural sound from him that made your pulse race. Finally, he managed to get the door open, practically shoving it with his shoulder as he carried you inside.

The door slammed harshly behind you, but neither of you seemed to notice. You were too busy tearing at each other’s clothes, a frantic urgency consuming you as you both stumbled further into the room. Sid’s jacket hit the floor, followed by your dress, which he practically ripped off of you in his haste to get you naked. You weren’t far behind, your hands working feverishly to unbuckle his belt, pushing his pants down until they pooled at his feet.

You barely made it to the bed. Sidney’s hands were everywhere, exploring, gripping, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your breath caught as he lowered you onto the mattress, his body covering yours in an instant. The kisses between you were hungry, desperate, filled with a need that neither of you could contain.

“Jesus,” Sid growled, his voice thick with desire as he kissed a trail down your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. You arched into him, your nails raking down his back as you urged him on, needing more, needing him.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he settled between them, the hard length of him pressing against your core. “Now,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of urgency and need. “I need you now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the base of his cock, guiding himself to your opening. The first push was slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you. Your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into his back as you arched beneath him, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Fuck, Y/N” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot inside that made you cry out.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your body rocking with each of his thrusts. The intensity of it, the way he moved inside of you, almost too much to bear, Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your moans echoing in the room as he drove into you, his pace relentless.

It didn’t take long before he flipped you over, your stomach pressed against the mattress as he positioned himself behind you. He gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrust forward, the new angle sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to the headboard, gripping it tightly for support as he fucked you from behind, his movements rough and demanding.

You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you so completely, the way his hands dug into your hips, anchoring you to him, The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin against skin, filled the room, mingling with both of your moans and gasps. It was messy, it was intense, it was exactly what you both needed.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Sidney groaned his voice deep and raspy, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release, driving you both to the brink

“Oh my god I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, ready to snap. “Fuck.”

With a low growl, Sid pulled you up so that your back was flush against his chest, one his arms wrapped around you, with the other wrapped around your throat, as he continued to thrust from behind. “You take it so well,” he whispered in your ear. The new position sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling. You cried out his name, your release coating his cock creating wet sounds as he continued to move inside of you drawing out your release. “That’s right baby,” he coaxed as your head rolled back onto his shoulder.

But he wasn’t done yet. He turned you around again, pulling you on top of him as he lay back on the bed. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest as you sank down onto him, taking him in fully. The position gave you full control, and you didn’t waste it. You began to ride him, your movements slow at first, savoring the way he felt inside of you, before picking up the pace. “Good girl, holy fuck,” he breathed out.”

Sidney’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you rode him, his eyes locked on yours. The sight of you above him, head thrown back in pleasure, breasts bouncing about was almost enough to send him over the edge. He thrust up to meet you, matching your pace, the tension in his body building to an almost unbearable level.

“Y/n,” he gasped, his voice strained as he felt himself getting closer. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—“

“Do it,” you urged, your own voice breathless as you rode him harder, pushing you both to the edge. The sound of your bodies moving together, the feel of him inside of you, was enough to tip you over again, your second orgasm hitting you with just as much force as the first. Your body clenched around him, and that was all Sidney needed.

With a low, guttural groan, Sidney came, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. He spilled into you, his hips jerking with intensity as he rode out the waves of pleasure. You continued to move above him, milking every last drop until you were both spent. bodies trembling with exhaustion.

You pulled yourself off of him, a mix of both of your juices dripped from out of you and onto his dick, causing him to throw his head back against the pillows. You collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, both of your breath heavy as you tried to catch your breath. The room was filled with the sounds of labored breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you lay there together, spent and satisfied. Your head rested against his chest, the rapid beating of his heart a steady rhythm beneath your ear. For a moment, you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your intense night together.

Finally, he turned his head in your direction, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light of the room. There was as softness in your gaze now, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before, and it tugged at something deep inside him. He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, his earlier roughness replaced with something almost tender.

“Stay,” he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure why he said it—he’d never been the type to ask someone to stay the night—but with you, it felt different. Like maybe this could be more than just a one-night thing.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to figure out what he really meant. But then you smiled, a small, almost sad smile, and shook your head no. Sidney felt a pang of disappointment, but he didn’t push. He knew better than to ask for more than what was being offered, especially when it was clear you had your reasons. So he just nodded, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before pulling you fully into his arms.

“This was supposed to be simple,” you whispered, your voice still tinged with the remnants of shared passion.

Sid chuckled softly, his hands brushing through your hair. “Simple doesn’t seem to be our style, eh?”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your gaze searching his. ”We both know this doesn’t change anything, right?”

He nodded, though there was a part of him that wasn’t entirely convinced. “Right.”

You fell asleep like that, tangled together in the sheets, your bodies warm and tired.

———

Sidney woke up to the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the curtains. He stretched, reaching out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand brushed over the cool cheeks, a strange feeling settled in his chest—a mix of confusion and something else, something he wasn’t ready to name. He could almost feel you there, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin.

Blinking against the light, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around the room. It was quiet, and the space beside him was untouched, as if no one had ever been there.

For a moment, he thought maybe he’d imagined it, that night you shared was just a vivid dream. But the faint scent of your perfume still lingered in the air, and the tousled sheets were evidence enough that you had been there, at least for a while.

He sat up fully, running a hand through his hair as he tried to piece together what had happened. Everything from the night before came rushing back—the charged banter, the undeniable chemistry, the way you’d felt around him, responding to his every touch. It had been intense, passionate, and for a brief moment, it had felt like more than just a short connection. He stared mindlessly at the floor, his mind replaying every moment, every touch, every moan. The sheets still smelled like you, and the memory of your body pressed against his was still fresh in his mind.

But now you were gone, and with you, the warmth and closeness that had enveloped him during those hours together. Sidney frowned, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. You must have left early, slipping out before he’d even had a chance to wake up.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’d never been one for long goodbyes, especially when it came to flings. It was easier to keep things casual, to let it be what it was without any lingering complications.

But this felt different. The empty space beside him was a harsh reminder that you had made the decision to leave before he even had a chance to say anything. And that stung, more than he wanted to admit. As the silence settled around him, he realized that something had shifted inside him.

For the first time in a long while, Sidney felt something beyond just the physical satisfaction that usually followed a night like this. The sex had been incredible, that much was clear. But there was a nagging emptiness, a gnawing sense that what you shared wasn’t as casual as you both wanted to believe.

Sidney swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up as he tried to shake off the strange sense of loss. He told himself it was better this way—clean, simple, no strings attached. That’s what you agreed on, after all. You were gone, and he was alone. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he tried to center himself. He had to get a grip—this was just another night, another woman, and life would go on as it always did.

But as he moved around the room, gathering his clothes and getting dressed, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that he wasn’t ready for it to be over. Not yet. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly. Sid’s heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, unfolding it to reveal a short, handwritten note.

“Thanks for the night. Let’s keep it uncomplicated :) -Y/N”

Sidney stared at the note for a long moment,the words echoing in his mind. “Uncomplicated.” That’s what you wanted, what you had both agreed to. But now as he read your words, he couldn’t help but feel that things were far more complicated than either of you had anticipated. As he stood there, staring at the note, he knew you had left a mark on him, one that he couldn’t easily erase. The memory of you, of the way you had looked at him with those challenging eyes, would stay with him. Whether he liked it or not, you had gotten under his skin.

With a sigh, he tucked the note into his pocket, trying to push the thought from his mind. You were gone, and that was supposed to be the end of it. But deep down, Sidney hoped this wasn’t over. There was something between you, something that couldn’t be so easily dismissed. But he had a life to get back to, a routine that didn’t include him moping over women who left before dawn.

And as he left the room, closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see you again. And if he did, what the hell he would do about it.

[theloveinc]

can’t even bother thinking about a rapunzel tangled!au with Bakugo bc he’d be breaking his way out of that closet the second mother gothel yelled at u abt leaving the tower

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part Nine: The Expo

Your eyes widen to saucers as you climb out of John’s work van. The event hall in front of you is huge - the largest in the city. A big, glass dome with a high-end hotel attached. It glows in the morning sun. Lines of people have already formed out front. You passed them on your way around to the vendor entrance. It’s the twentieth anniversary for the Tattoo Expo, apparently, which means they expect massive crowds.

“I hate that Kyle couldn’t come.” You frown as a security worker hands over your badge. It’s fancy - heavy weight with brightly colored, neo-traditional graphics. Something about having the word VENDOR hanging around your neck makes your heart skip.

John sighs, heaving one of the boxes of his books onto your dolly. “Yeah. He tried but he couldn’t get his head out of the toilet long enough to do much of anythin’.”

You wrinkle your nose. Apparently he had caught some nasty stomach bug, poor guy. You thought about calling and checking in on him, but you worried that was too clingy. After… everything, you don’t want to come off as anything other than normal about it. Which you are. Totally normal.

At least Johnny was home for the day to help him out.

“Has Simon ever come?” You ask, titling the dolly pack to push into the convention hall.

John’s arms flex as he fights with his rolling tool box to get the handle back out so he can pull it. He just had to wear a sleeveless muscle tee, didn’t he? It’s rude, frankly. You look over his more rarely exposed shoulder and upper arm pieces - some more faded than others. Some more colorful, some better crafted. Part of you wants to reach out - to trace them the same way you want to with Simon. You want to ask him in detail about each one. Maybe he’ll let you, someday.

“Can you actually picture Simon in a convention hall?” He chuckles eventually, finally getting the toolbox rolling properly.

You laugh. “Guess not.”

The 141 booth sits in the center of the floor, surrounded by a few other big-name shops and figures in the community. You glance around at them, only recognizing a few. You don’t get much time to look around. There are only a couple hours designated for set up and you have to help hang all the flash options, get the cash box sorted, and be ready for the flood when it comes. You’ve mentally prepared for chaos, reading through pretty much every reddit and twitter thread you could find about convention disasters. You know that won’t happen here, and even if something did, John wouldn’t abandon you to it. Still, you feel better being mentally prepared for anything - no matter how unrealistic.

“Why do you still do these?” You ask, pinning one of the large flash sheets to the display board. “I mean - you don’t exactly have to get your name out there.”

“I enjoy them- the community. I was here when this was still bein’ held underground in an old warehouse.” John looks around, eyes scanning the rows of artists. He doesn’t share his thoughts, just stands there quietly for a moment with his hands on his hips. After a few beats he grumbles quietly, “Gettin’ old…”

You focus on setting up the front table where you’ll be stationed. John brought a few prints of work as well as several copies of his book. He brought a few signed ones as well, only selling them for about twenty more bucks than the usual price. You asked why he doesn’t mark them up more, but he just shrugged you off with a mutter of ‘I’m not all that’ before moving on to another task. You decided it was best not to argue that he is, indeed, all that. His books are literally filled until the late fall.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so proud of setting up a decently aesthetically pleasing display all on your own when you’re surrounded by real artists, but you still grin wide with your hands on your hips. It’s simple, with cards for each of the boys lining one sit and a roll of tattoo tickets for the day beside the cash box. The table cloth with the shop’s name looks nearly identical to the sign. One might call it lazy marketing, you find it charming.

“Somethin’ happen with you and Kyle?” John asks suddenly, back turned as he messes with something in his rolling tool box full of supplies.

You freeze, eyes wide and mouth dry. Did Kyle say something? You thought you’d been normal about it. Kyle hadn’t acted any differently - which shouldn’t have hurt your feelings - and you were sure you’d met him with the same level of normalcy. The past weeks race through your mind. Every moment, every interaction, picking each apart into threads in milliseconds.

“Uh, no? Why?” It comes out squeaky. Unsure. Lord, you really are a terrible liar.

John hums. He’s quiet for barely a beat, a moment that seems to stretch for lifetimes. You can almost feel your cells aging while you wait. “You’ve been quieter than usual around him. Just wanted t’make sure.”

“Oh.” Had you? You thought you’d been the same as always. Both of you totally moved on from… the incident. Well, except for those few times you caught yourself staring - zoning out while thinking about the way his lips pressed to yours. Imagining Kyle pulling you into the back room again. Another kiss with less nervousness and more heat. Actually bending you over the desk properly-

“Y’with me, love?” John snaps you back to reality.

“Yeah!” You jump and stutter. “Yeah. No. We’re fine. I’m… fine.”

You wonder if the giant guy in the weird homemade mask at the booth across from yours would smash your head in if you paid him. Let him free you from the torment of embarrassment. It had been eating away at you, if you’re honest with yourself, and now lying right to John’s face just feels… awful. He’ll find out. You know he will. Maybe he already knows as that was a test. Fuck if it was, you totally just failed.

The clock turns to nine, and you have no choice but to let that be a problem for your future self.

Something you realize rather quickly as the attendees begin to flood the hall is that John is a god here. People don’t meet his eye. They speak meekly, even to you, with voices low and faces flushed. The line for your booth stretches down the walkway as soon as the doors open - appointment tickets practically flying out of your hands. You overhear a pair of friends muttering about sleeping outside overnight to get in early enough for John’s booth. It makes your head spin.

You wonder if they’d still act that way if they saw him snoring open-mouthed at the desk in the back room mid-afternoon.

“Thought I heard 141 got a new front desk girl.” A syrupy southern accident lilts above you just as you finish selling tickets. He’s handsome. Blonde and blue eyed with a little scar gracing his cheekbone. Not much younger than John, you don’t think. Probably around Simon’s age.

You slip on your usual customer service smile. “Hello! How can I-”

“Graves.” John grunts behind you, not even looking up from the work in front of him. “What d’you want?”

“Just wanted to come see how you were.” The man - Graves - grins wide. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “And to meet your new front of house. Philip.”

You take the hand he holds out, giving a perfunctory shake and your name. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that John doesn’t like this guy, whoever he is, and you’re inclined to trust his judgement. You opt for basic small talk. “Are you an artist?”

Graves nods. “I own Shadow & Co. It’s a few blocks over from your place.”

Oh. You’d heard of them. They came highly recommended when you were looking for artists in the area initially. In the end you opted for John based entirely on vibes. The Shadow building is far too modern - to minimalist - for your liking. Too corporate.

“Y’know, we’re looking for a new desk girl as well.” Graves smiles. You do your best not to sneer at his use of desk girl. “We’re growing pretty quick - even if you wanted to split your time-”

“She’s full time with us.” John snaps - blatant irritation lining the edges of his voice. He still doesn’t turn around.

The blonde man pauses, glancing between you. Something passes over his eyes - some implicit knowing that you don’t quite get - but it’s gone just as fast as it came. He digs into his pocket, flipping open a too-new wallet and pulling out a business card. “Well, if you ever want to work somewhere more exciting-” you nearly laugh at that. “-give us a call, hm?”

You glance up to his face, then back down at the card. John’s tattoo gun continues to buzz behind you, but you can tell he’s slowed down. He’s listening. Before even really thinking you extend your hand, pushing the card he holds away from you.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m very happy here.”

Philip scoffs, dropping the card on the table. “Keep us in mind, yeah?”

He disappears into the crowd easily - blending in just like his shop’s namesake. Your nose wrinkles. You snatch up the card and tear it in two. “Dickhead.”

You think you hear John chuckling behind you, but can’t be sure over the roar of the convention.

The day flies by - people bustle by your booth. You run out of signed books just over halfway through - prints not long after. Your voice feels hoarse from talking to so many people. The hall has grown quite hot and you’re sure that your hair looks insane at this point. Either way, you’re having a great time. You get to talk to a with full body trash polka that you like for some reason. You get to meet one of the people involved in the stage competition - her massive thigh piece holding some of the best color work you’ve ever seen. All in all, despite the discomfort, you think this ranks in your top ten favorite days. Maybe top five.

“Excuse me?” Murmurs a voice so soft you almost miss it entirely over the roar of the convention. When you look up, you’re met with a painfully young face. Definitely not old enough for the 17+ entrance requirement.

“Hi!” You put on your warmest smile. “How can I help you?”

“I, uh, I was just…” They stutter, shifting in place. “I- Are there any signed copies left?”

You look them over, a too-familiar pang in your chest. You know those eyes, that anxiety. The jumpy way they look around at the people passing by and tug at their sleeves. Your teeth sink into your lip and you look over at the three blanks that make up your entire left over stock. Glancing over your shoulder, you see John finishing with his current client - giving the man a firm handshake before turning to clean up his station. There’s a fifteen minute break until the next one - his last for the night - and as much as you don’t want to take up his precious little time to set up…

“Let me check!” You squeak, shaky as you grab one of the blanks with all the subtlety of a brick over the head and cross the few feet over to where John sits. You lean over to speak in his ear, low enough that the kid won’t hear you. “John?”

“Hm?” He hums, turning slightly on his stool.

“Can you sign this one?” You chew your lip. “I know you had a set amount but this kid looks so…”

He glances behind you at the teenager in question, bashfully staring at their feet.

“I’m sorry, I know you need to set up for the next-”

John cuts you off by taking the book from your hands and standing.

“Thanks, dove.” He gives you that lovely, warm smile and rolls his shoulders before making his way over to the front table.

The teenager’s eyes go so wide you think they might pop out of their head. You decide to hang back and not interrupt their moment. John sets the book on the table and grabs a sharpie from your back up stash of pens. The kid mumbles something you can’t understand. John’s voice lowers as well. You can’t hear them, but you watch John scrawl something in the book and hand it over. He pushes away the crumpled, messy wad of cash the teenager tries to give him, shaking his head and saying something else that you don’t catch. The kid looks like they’re about to cry, a wide, wet grin splitting their face as they say goodbye and practically prance away.

You melt, shoulders slouching and what you’re sure is a very stupid smile breaking out across your lips. You don’t know why you doubted him for even a moment.

“What’s that face?” John scoffs, cocking a brow at you.

“Nothing.” You shake your head and re-take your spot at the table.

The ending of the convention is rather uneventful. Some of the other booths begin clearing up early. You take the time to count the cash box - which is absolutely stuffed to the brim. John rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck about five times in the span of a few minutes. Maybe you could convince them to do a company yoga class. It’s easy to see how tense and tired they get. You file that idea away for later.

Luckily most of the booth set up belonged to the venue and, since you sold out of books and prints, you don’t have haul those back to the van. All you have to take is John’s rolling toolbox and tattooing table. All things that easily fit in your bag and dolly. Thank god. Neither of you speak much on the drive back to the shop - opting for comfortable silence. Your ears ring ever so slightly from the noise of the convention hall. When you were in it, you hadn’t realized just how loud it was. John’s eyes are locked on the road, the slight glow from the setting sun warming his skin.

The sun just disappears over the horizon as you put the last of the equipment in the backroom - stacked rather messily but that’s another problem for future you. You’ve been working for a grand total of fourteen hours and, somehow, it still has yet to hit you. Adrenaline and excited energy still pulse under your skin.

John sighs loudly, crossing each arm over his chest to stretch them out. “Could really go for a scotch right now. You want a nightcap?”

Your cheeks warm, still riding high from the excitement of the day you agree easily. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He gives you a gentle smile, softened further by the low street lights. “Let me show you a spot.”

The place John leads you to is small. Local. You sit at the bar and take a moment to look around. Three pool tables take up half the floor space. It looks like a small tournament is going on - a white board showing the matches and who will go against who next. Two ski-ball machines are tucked in a corner beside the bathroom, currently taken up by two younger men who you aren’t completely sure are drinking age. The lights and music are both low. One of the bartenders is posted up on the opposite end of the bar with two other people watching Shin Godzilla on the mounted television. It’s cozy and oh-so very John Price.

You get an easy sipper, something fruity and sweet as a treat for the long day you’ve had. It’s nice against the warmth of the summer evening. A heat that’s only aggravated by the one that settles in your spine whenever the guys are around. John especially.

“Think that kid was a little young for the event…” You blurt in a poor attempt to make conversation.

John nods along. “Definitely.”

“That was really nice of you. I didn’t want to… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure why exactly the words won’t stop. You blame the drinks and exhaustion. Seems realistic enough. “They just seemed so sad.”

“Wasn’t nice. Just the right thing t’do.” John shrugs. His words come slow, almost as if he’s unsure if he should say them. Though, you find it hard to believe he has ever been unsure about anything in his life. “I know what its like… to need t’escape. Lied about my age just to enlist.”

Your eyes widen. “R-really?”

He hums. “They didn’t care much back then.”

For some reason you never thought about John’s childhood - his homelife. You know he has a mom somewhere. Kyle let it slip a couple of times - said she’s a really good cook. John doesn’t volunteer information about himself often, you gathered that much. He’s worse than Simon, somehow, which says a fucking lot.

“Did-” you mull over your words. “You didn’t grow up around here, yeah?”

It’s a clumsy attempt at getting him to talk, but it works well enough. He nods. “Hereford. My mum’s still out there.”

Score. “Do you visit her much?”

John shrugs, chuckling. “When I can. I could move back home and it wouldn’t be enough for her.”

You snicker.

“She’s the best woman I’ve ever known…” He murmurs, eyes far away. It’s only for a moment, but they look past you. Defocused in a way that seems to out of character for the hyper-aware man.

Your faces are close. Hunched in like school kids exchanging secrets and gossip during recess. Your eyes dart from his to his lips and back. It’s confusing. All of this. The intimacy you have with each of them in these moments is overwhelming. You like Kyle - you liked kissing Kyle - you really shouldn’t be wanting that from your boss, though. A co-worker is bad enough but John… John is off limits. You know that. Even so, you find yourself subconsciously leaning just a bit closer, eyes roving over the freckles you don’t see standing further away and the grey flecks in his eyes. You think, for barely a millisecond, that he leans in too.

Until he sits up straight, tossing back what little is left of his drink. “Let’s head out. Could go for a smoke.”

You nod, swallowing down your thoughts and following him out of the bar like a lost puppy. You’d follow him to the end of the earth, you think. Even if it hurts that you can’t get as close as you want, you’d go anywhere for him. Yeah, that’s definitely the drink and tiredness talking. Part of you also knows that it is undoubtedly true.

John rounds a corner to the side of the bar. It’s moderately lit, a single street lamp just down the way giving you just enough light to see. You lean against the wall beside John, the exhaustion beginning to cling to your eyes.

“Are you?” John asks suddenly.

“Hm?” You hum, unsure of what he’s asking about.

“Happy here?” He cuts the end off a cigar he pulled from the silver box that lives in his back pocket.

In the low light of the alley, his pupils overtake most of his irises. Dark and intense as he looks you over from head to toe. You see it, suddenly. The god that the others do. He’s not as physically large as Simon, or as loud as Johnny, but he fills every inch of any space he enters regardless. You suppose you became so used to being in that radius that you forgot just how much presence he carries. You’ve wrapped yourself in it like a blanket. A shield.

Your cheeks warm and you shuffle your feet. “I… yeah.”

“Good.” John sighs out a cloud of smoke. “It’d be a pain in the arse to replace you. The boys care about you too much.”

You stare up at him. You can feel something on the edge of his tone - some weight that you don’t understand. There always seems to be another layer to the things he says. Implications that you can’t understand, context that you’re missing. Part of you wants to ask, needs to ask, but the words get stuck in your throat. What would you say? You’re not even entirely sure what you need to ask. You know they care about you, and you care for them in turn, so why does it feel like there’s something missing?

“Does the boys include you?” You blurt, one again wishing that big guy from the convention was here to smash your head in like wile e. cayote and the anvil.

He looks you up and down, slightly taken aback while you debate on bolting. “Thought that was obvious.”

You scoff, still flustered. “You’re hard to read.”

“Am I, now?”

You nod. A comfortable silence falls over you, despite the awkwardness surely emanating from you. Your lip catches between your teeth, eyes on your feet. “John?”

“Dove?” He tilts his head, once again leaning ever so slightly closer to you.

“Thank you. For everything.” You murmur, voice low and unsure. “It’s… it’s really good here.”

“Think nothin’ of it, love.”

You look up at those pretty blue eyes. They always make your chest ache with some deep hole you haven’t been able to pin down. At first you could blame it on wanting to do well - to be a good employee. It’s more than that, though. It starts in your chest and seeps it’s way through the rest of you. A want. A craving. That’s the word. You crave those eyes on you. The weight of his hands, the fortitude of him.

You’re not sure who closes the gap - whether it’s you or him - but either way it closes. It’s too natural for the context of your relationship. You slot together too well. It’s not like with Kyle. John carries an intensity with him that Kyle never could. His beard scratches not unpleasantly. His lips are warm - you can taste hints of scotch and his cigar. He smells of spice and earth. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders - unsure of where to put them.

This is wrong. It’s messy. You already lied about Kyle, which he’ll surely find out. If he hasn’t already. What about Johnny? Or Simon? Will they think less of you? Are you less for this? For impulsively kissing your boss in some back alley? Will Kyle be angry if he finds out? Your thoughts surge, all chaotic waves crashing against each other in an attempt to make sense of this situation you find yourself in.

John’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into him. Your arms drape around his neck as you push onto your tips toes to meet him.

That’s a problem for future you.

A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to escalate it or not but I want to get a move on with these boys

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

[gghostwriter]

If You Love Me Right

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 Summary: Emily asks an all important question regarding the next step of your relationship with Spencer Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: Back at it again with something Short n' Sweet. Unsure if this will be the last of this album inspired fics but so far the album is still on repeat. I think out of all the fluff I've written, this is the one where I could just feel how much of a green flag Spencer would be as a partner, if only he wasn't fictional. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

“Have you thought about it?” Emily asked, wine glass on hand as she slid into the seat next to you.

The sun was just starting to set, covering the lush backyard in multitude of pink & orange hues. It was a Sunday and Rossi had invited the team and their extended families for an early Italian dinner feast. When Spencer inquired about your availability, it warmed your heart to hear who you are to him.

“Are you sure you want me there, Spence?” your voice coming out soft and muffled as you burrowed yourself further into the warmth of his slender neck. His invitation was a big step in further solidifying the relationship and having been in questionable situation-ships, you had to be sure where you stood.

He pulled back, doe eyes inquisitively staring into yours. His gaze had this way of making you feel known and at home. It was as if his soul has recognized yours from eons ago and needed no further introduction.

“Of course,” his calloused fingers softly pushing stray locks behind your ears. “You’re my person now and it feels right to have you there with me.”

Emily cleared her throat binging you back to the present. “Well?”

“Thought about what?”

She nodded her head in Spencer’s direction. “Having genius babies with our boy genius?”

You softly smiled, watching your boyfriend of one year perform magic tricks for Henry and Michael. It wasn’t like it never crossed your mind. If you were being honest, by the sixth date and the first time he stayed over for the night, the idea of growing old and starting a family with Spencer by your side had started to solidify. 

“Maybe,” you drawled out. A half truth that the seasoned profiler caught on right away.

“And has this—” she lifted her hands to form quotation marks in the air. “‘maybe’ been discussed with the potential baby daddy?” 

You brought the wine glass up to your lips, the outer corner of your lips tugging upwards your face as you took a sip. Dating a man of Spencer’s caliber had given you the comfort and stability to discuss any little insecurity, adoration, and realization without the unease of thinking he’d judge you for it. Gone were those nights of second guessing and reading too much in between the lines and in its place were honest discussions between two consenting adults. 

It was a real breath of fresh air.

“Do you think we should have a baby?” you casually asked, laying on his lap as he was propped up against the headboard with a book on hand. “I mean, not this second but—yeah, do you?”

There was a rustle of pages before a soft thud. “Sweetheart, don’t take this the wrong way but are you by any chance ovulating?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He smiled, looking down at your slowly reddening cheeks. I—uh, have actually been keeping track—” he bit his lip before rushing out to explain himself. “—not to use the information for nefarious reasons but my brain just started to notice the patterns and it feels like an invasion of your privacy and—are you angry?”

“Oh Spence, no. Not at all,” your hand twining with his to stop its nervous movements. “It might be weird but I know you meant well. Now, will you tell me some facts about why you thought I was ovulating?”

“Well, studies had shown that women feel more flirty, sociable, and more physically attractive right before and during ovulation. Some studies also support the idea of increased libido which makes sense since that is the peak window for propagation of the human species.”

You giggled, always welcoming his rambles even if it had to do with your own reproductive system. “Right, but you know what else got me thinking about it?”

A slight scrunch in between his eyebrows appeared as his mind no doubt rewound the day for any trigger. His eyes brightening when it clicked. “Was it the picture of me holding Henry and Michael?”

“Definitely,” you breathed out, starting to feel warm just thinking about how secure his hold was to the newborn babies and that smile on his face that reached his molten hazel eyes and radiated from his whole face.

He pressed feather-like kisses all over cheeks and forehead. “There’s actually also a study on why that affected you so much. It all comes down to women seeing their partners acting as providers—” he cut himself off to land a kiss on your lips. “—I’m not saying no—I’d actually really like that but maybe we can revisit the idea again in two weeks? I want to make sure this is something you really want and not something your biology has dictated on you.”

“Okay, that sounds fair. I love you, Spence.”

“I love you too.”

Spencer’s laughter floating through the air brought you out of your reverie. A slight shiver passed through you—either from the wind or the imagery of him carrying Michael and holding hands with Henry on the other as they slowly made their way back to their mother.

You turned to face Emily, no doubt that the blush on your cheeks giving you away. “Maybe.”

“Huh,” she tilted her head slightly to the left—a subtle tick you’ve grown to read into.

“What?”

Shaking her head, she leaned in to clink her glass with yours and a teasing smile forming on her face. “Nothing. Well—you’re welcome, by the way. And as a thank you, what do you think about naming the maybe baby after me?” 

You laughed. The trio had taken full credit for bringing the couple together—something that they had always brought up like it was their greatest contribution to earth.

A layer of warmth was added to your shoulders and a faint scent of books and wood wafted to your nose. Tilting your head backwards, it was Spencer sans his black coat that was now adorning your body. His garment effectively marking you as an extension of him, as if the necklace around your neck with his initials 'SR' wasn't enough already. A priceless jewelry that had a partner with your own initials that found its home around his neck. “Hi love.”

“Hi sweetheart,” leaning down to give your lips a kiss. “You looked cold.” 

You were both wrapped up in your own little bubble to notice Emily’s eyebrows arching towards her hairline. “It won’t be long now, I guess. So how many?” 

“One would be cute—” your eyes never lingering on his face as if you were tracing the all his angles and memorizing all the stubbles that had started to grow on his jaw line. 

Spencer without further explanation continued on. “—two would be better.” 

“You know, you both have to stop finishing each other’s sentences, it’s getting creepy,” Emily quipped.

You both laughed, turning to face her, and although your gazes were no longer meeting, the gentle caress of his thumb on the back of your hand was enough to communicate everything and anything in between.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[kithtaehyung]

broken, pt. 2 (3tan) (m) | myg

title: broken (pt. 2) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the championship game lights up... and everything goes down. note: not too much to say other than thank you. this part is definitely another very, very close one to my heart. please buckle up and enjoy the ride. warnings: [spice warnings under the cut] language, angst, tension, alcohol mention & consumption, fights, basketball!yoongi🧍‍♀️, cocky!yoongi, jimin😳, tense situations, did i say angst?, long hair yoongi, crying, bro😀, reader is a real one i don’t make the rules, arguments, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, saying softhours puts some of this lightly, bro🥲, blood/wound mentions, hurt/comfort, there’s just a lot in here y’all idek, taehyung being the best ever, …angst. drop date: february 9th, 2024, 10:37pm est word count: 17.7k my god

smut warnings: cursing, choking, light slapping, breast play, angry s*x a ha ha, crying, multiple explicit scenes y'all istg don't perceive me lol, c*nt slapping, penetrative s*x, brat!reader, protected s*x, edging, consent king ofc :), rough s*x, b*cksh*ts and a lot of them, ...unprotected s*x (yeah it's here and y'all better be responsible or so help me!!!), f*ngering, or*l (m/f rec), brat tamer!3tan yoongi!!!, reader loses themselves for a sec, but yoongi is a king, pain k*nk whewwww, kissing, so much kissing lmfao, c*m play, slight bond*ge (yoongi hands), spanking, aftercare ofc :'))

-

-

There’s no way.

How the fuck is he here? When did that horrible excuse of a guy even join a team? Had he been playing intramurals this whole time? 

“No fuckin’ way.”

Your eyes find your brother standing rigid at your side, wrists tensed to hell and shoulders spiked. Did he not know he was playing, either? Judging by his smoldering question, you’re going to guess he wasn’t aware. 

“Were they always on this team?” 

“No.”

“I don’t remember them being on any teams.”

They? Them? So they recognize more from the court on that day you try to not think about. Shifting your vision, you start gauge reactions under sounds of the growing crowd. 

It’s Yoongi that looks at you first, eyes lowering to the hand you still have on your arm damn it you should be okay about that night already. But you can’t seem to let your limb go, your fingers covering it in a weak attempt at protection and resilience. 

The blaze in his eyes makes you shake. Even as you swallow your pleas for everyone to just go home, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he walks over to stand in front of your knees, motioning for you to scoot over one so he can take the end seat.

Normally, you would slightly question why he wouldn’t just sit next to you. But this time, you’re hyper aware of what he’s doing—and why. It’s so obvious that you wanna reach out and grip his sweaty hand. 

Yoongi absolutely sat there to shield you.

And your heart burns and burns.

If only he could do more, be more, show more. Because with a rattled ego and tainted mind, you’re already yearning for his touch, wanting him to whisk you out of here and bring you back to the comfort of his home—just like he did that night. 

God, he makes you dizzy doing absolutely nothing. 

“What’s the plan,” he asks, eyes on the court and palms between his knees.

“Dunno yet.” Your brother shakes his head before looking back, eyes narrowing at the laughs on the other bench. “But I might get my ass thrown out if we—”

“Play.” 

Immediately, all three of them snap their heads your way. Fuck, your arm is still… 

One person cannot have this hold on you. There’s no way you’re going to let him control your every waking moment, and your determination bubbles into your commands. “Play the game and beat his ass,” you seethe, holding yourself together and aiming daggers everywhere. “Just make it quick.” 

Yoongi gives you a look before Jimin snags him with an eyebrow raise. 

“And you’re paying me double.” 

Looking at the man beside you, it’s almost comforting seeing his attention fully on your face. If it weren’t for your ghost on the other side of the scoring table and your brother standing there, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him. 

But you only nod, getting a huff and a lopsided curve in response before you watch him lock eyes with your brother, “What do you wanna do?” 

After a long, resigned sigh, your sibling finally relents, “Fuck this shit up.” 

Good. Yes. This is what you want—for you and them. “Exactly.” 

Scanning around the tight circle, you notice that you have everyone’s attention. 

But one person seems to send a question without any words at all. In kind, you answer the same way, wings battering your stomach when all of them send thunder to the court with lightning in their eyes.

Yoongi scoffs through a slant, carrying the air of someone you never want to mess with in your fucking life. “The fuckin’ nerve.” 

Jimin hums, sliding a finger along his flexed to hell jaw. “Bold,” he adds. And his voice drop sends shivers when he turns to you,

“Don’t worry, love.” 

You stare.

“This will be over soon.” 

-

-

The game is… just a game. For now.

No one’s taunted hard other than a few smirks and winks, and right now it seems as if both teams are just being competitive more than antagonistic. Which relaxes you to the point where you’re cheering from the bench with the other players—and their coach that arrived late—jumping and yelling and clapping when things go in their favor.

Your brother’s slamming down dunks. Jimin’s been playing amazing defense with his quick reflexes and high stamina.

And Yoongi? Has gotten sickeningly sharp. All those late nights at the rec center are paying off in this championship and, when he scores a hard shot, the pride you feel launches you to your feet. 

“Nice job, b—” Oh fuck you almost shout something that should never be public knowledge. Holding your tongue, you quickly switch it up with a hasty, “Let’s go!” 

That was close. Way too close. 

Get it together. 

But you cannot help it right now. Seeing Yoongi facing off against the man you both wanna square up against? And making it look easy? The fluttering you feel in your belly grows double. Triple. Tenfold. His gestures, the way he acts like it’s nothing, his shrugs at their failed attempts to stop him—everything’s making you scratch proverbial walls and kick bench chairs. 

And it’s not just him—the whole team has been playing excellently. Each play seems intentional; every pass and movement is strategic. If you didn’t know this was a casual rec game, you would think they’re gunning for a real, prestigious trophy. 

However. 

When it’s starting to be very clear who the better squad is, that’s when things start getting more than tense. 

On a foul call, both sides start getting in each others’ faces. And you peg that as normal until someone on your team gets shoved and your brother immediately gets between the action. 

Both you and the coach shoot up from your seats. 

Shit, shit, shit. If there’s one thing your older sibling’s gonna do in this game, it’ll be finding any excuse to deck that man in the face. And once that happens, there’s no telling how many injuries are gonna walk off polished floors.

Thankfully, everyone separates without a ruckus, and timeout is called on your side. The crowd starts to yell in favor of either team, and that’s when you notice that Taehyung has been joined by Shiv and your friends. From the looks of things, all five of them are laser focused on you. 

You hold a quick thumbs-up before you’re covered by hot and sweaty men huddling around the bench. And you immediately agree with their coach when he barks, 

“I need you all to calm down.” 

“No can do, coach.” 

“Not if they aren’t.” 

Shit. All of them look fucking livid, not giving any shits whatsoever if they’re willing to talk back to their leader. What’s really been happening on the court? Has it been even more tense than you perceived? 

Oblivious to the context behind this matchup, their coach keeps yelling, “Look, I don’t give a shit if you have something to settle. Play the game and leave it on the floor. Understood?” When there’s charged silence, he yells it even louder. 

And a smattering of agreement comes out before all of you hear an even bigger yelling session booming from the other bench. When you look over, it’s quickly noticeable that they’re getting reamed over there, too. 

Jimin watches before speaking, and it seems like your coach’s pleas fell on deaf ears, “Fifteen went for my legs.” 

“Saw that. Let’s switch cus he can’t guard me.” 

“K.” Park swivels his head to address someone else. “You good to keep playing?” 

Your brother responds with a nod, wiping his never-ending sweat. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Huh. Even though you know he’s mad, the man seems… Calm. Eerily calm. It’s reminding you of the way he acted after you came home from Yoongi’s. 

And you don’t like it one bit. 

But the timeout is over, and both teams eye each other on their walk back onto the court. As it continues, the gym erupts into life again, with a bit of back and forth shots racking the scoreboard up. 

And Yoongi keeps scoring. And scoring. And scoring. 

Which lands him in a bit of trouble when the same idiot from Dalo pushes him during a layup. After he manages to make the shot, Yoongi immediately flicks him off—which gets a whistle blown. Which also means he has to sit on the bench for a second because his coach is pissed. 

Ignoring the scathing remarks being thrown, he dumps himself next to you. And you immediately feel the heat roll off of him in waves, trying hard to focus on the game. “Don’t be stupid,” you jut out. 

“What?” 

“Don’t be stupid. These guys aren’t worth it.” 

“After what he did to you?” 

The way those words leave his mouth ice you over, flares spiraling through every fiber of your being. Your reaction is so visceral that you can barely get your response out, “Yeah, but…” 

Leaning on his knees, Yoongi wipes his forehead with a crinkled to hell jersey, excess sweat pinging onto his sneakers. The crowd is loud and the buzzers even louder, but they aren’t enough to drown out his bite,

“I can’t let that shit go.” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Sorry, doll.” 

“Please just—” 

Yoongi leaves the bench before you can finish, and you whip your head in a rush, hands jutting out in a desperate attempt to hold him back. 

Only for him to be just out of reach. 

-

-

After halftime, it’s a whole different game. 

From an outside perspective, it’s as if everyone was using the first half to sniff each other out, circling around each other before deciding how and when to go in for the kill. 

And Yoongi isn’t the only one that you’re starting to worry about. Jimin, your brother, and even Rohan and the other guys are on edge, playing hard and doing everything they can to keep their scoring lead. 

Both you and their coach know you can’t stop whatever’s going on out there. And you’re starting to feel yourself getting angry at how your brother and them are egging the guys on. 

Why are they taunting? What the hell is making them so bent on making the other team pissed? Yes, all that went down with you, but nothing else had happened since then. And they clearly aren’t listening to anyone telling them to calm down.

If they end up starting shit you are going to—the fuck! 

Yoongi gets straight shoved again as he goes for a layup, and you shoot up in your chair as he hits the back wall with a thud. While the players at your side are yelling and everyone on the court starts grouping in shouts, you stay rigid, solely watching Yoongi eye his attacker—the same idiot from Dalo.

Fuck everything, you wanna rush into the fray and throw hands yourself because that looked painful.

The only thing that’s stopping you is the chilling fact that Yoongi is… Grinning. 

Wiping his curved lips, he waits while the refs break up the squabble, still looking triumphant as he walks to the line to shoot his free throws. When both of them are made, he stares directly at your assaulter—as you finally call it like it is—and doesn’t stop even when the coward looks away.

A whistle blows, and the game continues to be close. Too close, too close, too close. A couple more timeouts let you see just how laser-focused everyone is, and you’re a little shaken when it feels like they forgot you were even occupying their bench. 

What the hell is being said on the court? Even Jimin is brimming with anger. 

But after a few back and forths, Yoongi passes to your brother for a hard dunk, basket ringing from his throwdown and shaking when he lands. 

Thank god. Those points are enough. They’re gonna win. 

All the pent up anxiety you’ve harbored all game releases as everyone starts cheering, and your pride soars as your boys stare down their opponents while the clock winds down.

It’s over. The game is over, nothing too serious happened, and you can all go the fuck home to eat dinner and celebrate. 

Your eyes catch Yoongi throwing a rudely lopsided curve across the court. Even when Jimin comes up to push him back in excitement, his expression doesn’t change. 

And you find that wildly, unfathomably attractive. 

Then, as it goes, your brother comes up and they all share quick daps, eyes ablaze and not letting the losers out of their sight. 

Well. All of them are infamous for a reason. You would guess their energy altogether certainly contributes to that. Because the aura you feel oozing from them fills the gymnasium all the way up to your knees. 

And the sigh you let out mingles with their coach’s shake of his head.

-

-

Things are still tense as they all shake hands—or at least offer hands to shake—with the other team. The atmosphere is even a little iced when they receive their trophy. 

But the way you’re currently being surrounded as your guys converse hides you from plain sight, so you feel heavily protected. Even Jimin, who’s usually cheerful even when exhausted, wields sharp eyes as he keeps glancing over his shoulder. 

Honestly? You wouldn’t know what to do without them. Both your brother and all his friends, good pasts or not, are great people. They didn’t need to shield you like this. But they’re doing it anyway, because they won’t give that lowlife another reason or chance to approach you. 

Yeah. Your older sibling knows how to choose his circle.

It’s making you wonder if… 

Nah. 

That’s still too big a reach. 

When it seems like all of them and their cheering squad are gone, everyone starts making their way over to the bleachers—and you’re acutely reminded of what went down under similar looking ones the other night. 

Your shivers are overshadowed by Yuri’s telltale screams to Rohan, “You were so good, baby! Are you okay?”

Reia and Dom shake their heads before focusing on you, the latter being the spokeswoman, “So what was all that for?”

“Don’t ask,” you sigh, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “I’m just glad they won and that we can go home.”

“You’re not coming to Yuri’s?” Reia asks. “I thought we planned on that, no?”

Ah, shit. Earlier this week, you did make plans with them without really thinking about what day they were gonna fall on. But now you’re so mentally drained that you kinda just wanna go—

“Is anyone else starving? I’m hungry as fuck!” 

Right. Food. Adrenaline made you forget you were starving. Glancing towards your brother, you quickly remind him, “Yeah, me. And you’re paying.”

“Ah, shit, that’s right.” As he lets out a hard groan and deals with Jimin and Yoongi’s comments, your sibling relents, “Alright, where are we going.”

“Up to you,” you shrug, stealing a little look at the man you want to kiss like hell for his performance tonight. 

God, Yoongi’s so handsome. As Jimin leaves his side, he silently wipes his forehead of any excess sweat, hands and shoulders shining in the lights wait wait wait. Hold on. 

Walking over, you toss any care about who notices you out the window. And as he eyes your approach, you murmur with care and concern, “Is your back okay?” 

Blinking once, twice, the man nods. “Yeah, it’s all good.”

“You sure? That looked…”

Of course he decides that now is the perfect time to rake his sweaty locks back. Speaking so low that only you can hear, Yoongi reassures with a fist full of hair, “I’m fine, doll.” 

Motherfucker. 

Pinning down your urge to reach out and smother him, you only breathe relief. And before you move away to put some distance between, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Yoongi looks your way again. “For what?” 

Swallowing what’s left of your anxiety, you sigh. “For not getting into it out there. I was about to get mad as hell, but.. Looks like they were all talk.” 

“Mm.”

Honestly? It’s a miracle. The game’s over without any hitches or brawls? More relief starts blossoming in your chest, prompting a smile to grace your features. “You looked so good out there, by the way. I almost called you ba—”

“What are y’all talking about over there!”

Your mouth snaps shut as soon as you see your brother watching, but Yoongi is quick to fire off an insult, “The way you always take so long to pick something.”

“I picked already!”

“Then let’s go then.”

Laughing, you join the whole crew as you’re all the last ones to walk out. Your friends and Shiv parked in another lot since one side was already full, so you tell them you’ll meet at the restaurant.

Some other teammates decide to join, with jerseys being shucked off as everyone heads out the door. Immediately, body odor swoops into your nose, making you welcome the crisp, fresh air of night. 

Scratch that. You smell oncoming rain. 

Conversations cease, which only leaves the sound confirming your observation: booming, rolling thunder. Stopping at the edge of the gym’s awning, multiple heads turn up at the rumbles, watching lightning crack the sky. 

In front of you, Jimin shifts his head to the side. “Still?” 

And when you look at who he’s asking, you see Yoongi nod. 

Weird. 

But it’s not raining just yet, so all of you make your way into the lot and to your cars. As you do, you check your phone while making your way over, aiming a question at Tae, “You know where we’re going?” 

“Yeah, it’s not far,” he responds, fishing out his own device. “I think we’ve been there before.” 

We? Looks like things are progressing nicely over there. Since you’re lingering behind the guys, you start to take a small jab, “We, huh? Cute.” 

Lips spread as tight as his eyes, Taehyung parries. “Cute? Look who’s talking, miss whipped.” 

“You’re whipped.” 

“No, you.” 

“No, you,” you giggle out, reaching out to tickle Tae’s side and laughing as he flinches away. You chase him for a few seconds before you see his whole body freeze completely, asking a small question before going quiet.  

And when you slowly follow his line of vision, your heart freefalls to your gut, smashing it so hard you feel bile sting the back of your throat. 

The man from Dalo. And all the guys from the court plus some. 

Surround both Jimin’s and your brother’s cars.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, there’s so many of them, standing and waiting and unflinching in the bursts of thunder inching closer and closer what the fuck are you gonna do— 

“Taehyung.”

Your eyes shake. 

“Get her out of here. Now.”

And you’ve never screamed so loud. 

Every word rips out of your mouth before you’re promptly shushed by large fingers, icicles pinging around your heart and holding it down, “Don’t fucking do thi—!” 

To your horror, Tae’s already hauling you back, voice low and firm in your ear, “Come on.” 

“No! What the fuck—” 

“We’re leaving.”

“Please—!”

There are so many of them. So, so many of them. Panic drowns out your words and excess leaks out of your eyes, your own storm preventing you from seeing that your best friend is just as torn apart. 

“Babe, we have to go now.” 

“No, let me go!” 

They’re outnumbered. What if they have weapons? What if the police are called? What if something happens that you aren’t prepared for?

You’re screaming. Curses, their names, or whatever whatever you don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying because your toes are kissing the edge of madness. 

Dragged a good distance away, your yells devolve into incoherency, your nose and eye sockets smashing into Taehyung’s solid forearm so hard it hurts. 

Make it out, make it out, make it out. For the love of everything in the fucking universe and beyond it, make it out alive. 

Some movements and backs straightening are the last things you see before getting pulled around the corner.

And when Yoongi calmly rolls one of his shoulders, you feel a wick of your soul burn out.

Panic. Worry. Panic and more panic. The car ride that Tae paid for is the blurriest muddy water you’ve ever waded through.

Truthfully, you don’t even remember blankets being pulled over your shoulder. Where even are you? Oh, you’re in a bed. Whose bed are you in because this isn’t yours. But what does it matter anyway what does anything matter anyway nothing matters there’s nothing you can do you gotta get up and go back over there get up get up go—

As soon as you yank his bedroom door open, Taehyung is there, holding you back and pushing your frantic energy back inside. “Tae, if you don’t let me—”

“Do what!”

“I’m going back!” Wrestling out of his strong hold, you bolt down his hallway, head clanging as your shoulder bumps into a wall. “We need to go back—”

“Stop!” You hear running as you burst through the living room, whizzing past the glowing television. “We have to stay here—”

No no no. There’s no way you’re staying here when you need to be back at that lot. Who the fuck would call for help if anyone needs it? When they’re gonna need it? Your vision proves so blurry you can’t even find your shoes—

Arms wrap around your waist and you fight back with a scream, “Let me go!”

“Stop and just think for a second—”

“Why aren’t you with me on this, they’re—”

“Dumb as fuck!” 

Your friend’s quick comment is so sharp it cuts your breath. As you still in his firm but comforting hold, you finally stop to breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe as you’re turned to level a look with his eyes.

Eyes that are red-rimmed and so, so raw. “They’re idiots,” Taehyung grits out. “But they will be alright.” 

From the shake of his voice, you find that neither of you think that for sure. 

“I need to.. To…” Your breaths are ragged, energy spent and head dizzy from your quick exit from his bed. As you come down from your volcanic high, every weight the world places on your back proves too much. 

“You need to relax,” Tae advises, guiding you further back inside. And you don’t speak as he leads you past the couch, past the pictures on his hallway wall, and into the dark of his bedroom.

Maybe it’s over. Right? Maybe someone will answer if you ring them up. “Call. I need to call…” 

“Shh,” he soothes again, walking you backwards away from his door. When the bends of your knees hit his bed, Taehyung lets you down slowly until you’re sitting. “I’ll do it.” 

Brain fried from hyperactivity, you can only nod. 

Your friend steps away to fiddle with his phone, the light illuminating his beautiful features in the night. When he holds it to his ear, this is when you hear rain and the television in the living room, noticing that it’s playing a movie he watches for comfort. 

Shit. He’s going through it just like you are, and yet he’s still finding energy to calm your nerves? What have you even done to deserve him?

Guess you know how to choose your circle, too. 

Going unanswered, Taehyung lowers his hand, thumb rubbing the homescreen before gripping the device hard. 

Both of you are in the same boat. So steer when he can’t do it anymore. Soft but assertive, you rise to your feet, offering your embrace while calling his name, “..Tae.”

When he turns, the man wastes no time in dropping his phone to bring you in close. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and you hear his words on your head but feel the trembles in his chest. “Okay?”

Feeble fingers grab at his soft shirt, and you bury into his scent while soaked and tired eyes shut. 

You want to believe him. You do. You do. 

But hope may be a bitch. 

So you don’t. 

-

-

Forever passes while you both lie still in his bed, with Taehyung holding you close and keeping you subdued with notes of honey and wood. You both try to have conversation, but it’s disjointed and manufactured, so giving up is a group effort. 

You’re about to give up on a lot of things before you both jolt at Tae’s phone vibrating. 

The world shifts quick as you both sit up, the call immediately being accepted and a low greeting whooshing at your side, “Hey.”

With bated breath, you hear Jimin on the line. “Hey.” 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”

We. We, we, we, all of them thank the fucking world. As your breath is held, Taehyung’s voice is solid, “Say it.”

“My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—” 

You don’t even remember yanking the phone to your mouth. “Where is he.”

Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. Irked and feeling ire bubble back to the surface, you seethe, “This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?” 

“With us.” Us. Shit. “In the car.” 

Oh. 

“Your brother’s here, too.” 

“Ah.” That means they’re all there. They’re all heading home. “Am I on speaker.” 

“Umm.. Yeah.” 

As much as you’re relieved they’re all okay, stockpiled anxiety transforms into anger, your limit striking the thundering sky. “Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.” 

It’s your sibling that responds first. “Hey, wait a damn minute—” 

“I waited long enough!” you scream, ignoring Taehyung’s wide eyes. 

You know you need to relax. But you can’t help what’s happening right now and all you feel is pain. “I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.” 

“He was gonna—”

“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?” Damn it, you weren’t supposed to cry during this part, not when you just want them to know they fucked up. 

And the response is dead silence. Because of course it is. But if they won’t answer you here, they’re gonna answer another, “Just tell me one thing,” you plead. “Is this gonna happen again?” 

That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.” 

Gulping, you give Taehyung a glossy-eyed look before staring at his lit screen again. Trying not to let your voice waver, you accept his response, “Okay… Are you okay?” 

“Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Huh?” 

What an idiot. “Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am,” you accuse through gritted teeth. There’s no way in hell you wanna deal with their bullshit. Ignoring your pleas and staring harm in the face? Forget it. “I’m going to Yuri’s.” 

“What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.” 

“I just—No.” Taehyung has to grip your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. And you’re still steel in his arms because you haven’t been this upset in ages. “I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.” 

And you mean that. 

“…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.” 

So you gotta listen to what he wants but when it comes to what you say, it’s crickets? Goddamn, you’re furious. “…Of course you don’t.”

And you hang up before anyone can say anything else. 

-

-

You open the front door to your brother leaning against the hallway wall.

Both of you eye each other, one of you with a perfectly fine face and the other that isn’t so lucky because he’s a fool.

And no words are exchanged as you trudge your frustration to the kitchen. 

-

-

Ice. Bandages. Dinner. Anger propels you through it all.

Whipping up a quick but hearty meal, you let your brother patch himself up after demanding he showered. The smells of comfort food waft through your nose as things sizzle on the stove and, through the whole process, you don’t think about anything except how upset you are.

They’re all okay. But like Taehyung so abruptly put it, they’re all stupid. 

As you turn off your burner, you transfer everything to a bowl, sighing so loud it seasons the top with fire. When you approach the bar, your actions speak pretty damn loud—the dish clank shoving out a question from your sibling,

“Is there something you wanna say to me?” 

“There’s a bunch of shit I wanna say to you.” 

“It’s about Yoongi,” he asks, the absence of hesitation making your insides squeeze. “Isn’t it.” 

But luckily for you, your rage is so potent that it overruns your fear. As soon as your brother stands up and starts to repeat his question, your correction clangs through the room, 

“It’s about all of you! You say you wanna be there for me but what the fuck will doing this shit do?” 

Freezing, the man waits in shock as you keep going, “Yes, that guy deserves hell. I was so scared when he grabbed me at the club.” You stop to swallow. “But I had them both there and we left.”

Fuck, this is hard. Having to relive that shit is difficult but you need your brother—and all of them, for that matter—to know how hurt you feel right now. Mustering up enough bravery to get to the goddamn point, you finally squeak out, 

“If I lose them? Lose you? Because of something as stupid as a fight?” Your eyes search his, and your heart cracks when you see glassy sheen amongst his bruises. “What would I do then?” 

You expect silence. And silence is what you get. It’s drawn out, loud, and telling. “We know.” 

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes lifting to meet yours with sincerity. “And we’re sorry.”

Another moment passes between the two of you, the food you made left uneaten on the counter and the rest sitting still on the stove. But you know your sibling will eat it all tonight, whether you’re there or not. 

And you step forward at the same time he holds his battered arms out. 

Freshly showered, he still smells like rain and exertion. But his heart beats under your chest, he’s present, and back home—things you need to stop taking for granted. 

But you’re still mad. And getting things off your chest has only made you tired, so you decide that it’s finally time to go before you circle back to other scary territory brought up tonight. “I’m leaving now,” you announce as you step away. “But just think about that.” 

“I will.”

“I’m serious.” 

“I will.”

Staring, you take note of his cuts and injuries, wondering how the others are faring even though you don’t wanna deal with anything else. Because it hurts too much, and if you see who you’re thinking about, there’s no telling what you’d do if you were like this with your brother. There’s no telling how you’d…

No. You choose to go the easy route this time. Everyone can simmer in their sore, swelling consequences while you have a night of de-stressing with your friends. 

So you leave to go pack without another word. 

It’s raining. 

Hard.

And even though your car is heading to Yuri’s, your heart is beating backwards. Tugging you somewhere else and not letting up. 

With a ping of chill, you can’t shake it. Braking at a stop sign close to your destination, you sit in silence, letting the rain pelt every side of your vehicle and wondering what the hell to do. 

Truthfully? Your brother looked like shit. But your body isn’t telling you to go back to the house, which can only mean one other place. And you know for a fact you don’t wanna talk to him, either. 

So fucking upsetting. They did all that for what? You can barely keep your thoughts in a row because they keep yelling at jostling each other just like everybody did on the court. If anyone had to fight the dipshit, it should've been you. 

Fuck! Your head connects with the wheel, an inner monster rumbling with the thunder because you’re so fed up with everything that happened. 

Your brain is the one yelling. But your heart is begging for it to listen. Go to Yuri’s? Go to Yoongi’s. Find shelter in that warm bed of hers and sink in her plushies to comfort you? 

A sigh. Maybe you can at least call him to tell him off one more time. He needs to hear what you told your brother because if you ever, ever lose him—

Your eyes burn. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

No answer.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

Pick up. What the fuck.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

…Turn the fuck around shit, shit, shit.

Curses flying, you whip your vehicle in a flash, heart pounding so loud it’s blocking out the storm. Which is morbidly impressive considering how horridly it’s pouring. 

Thinking in leaps, you pivot and make another decision. Tell her and make it all quick. 

Yuri: Outgoing Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m not coming.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going to Yoongi’s.”

“Yoongi’s? Why?”

Ah, shit. Oh, fuck. She doesn’t know. 

Banging the steering wheel, you smash your teeth, stressed as hell from braving the rain in the dark and now snitching on yourself to someone else. 

Damn it. What do you say? What can you possibly even say when you’re so mad and stressed and conflicted and worried—

“Hello?”

“Because he’s the one,” you whoosh out, your vision quivering twice as much as it should. “And things went down after the game and now something feels wrong.”

“Oh, shit. Is that why y’all didn’t come to—”

“Yes.” When you say all this out loud, now it has weight. Horrifying weight on your chest and a block pushing down on the gas. You hear a bit of shuffling on the line, and you’re starting to get so anxious that you blurt, “Please don’t say anything. Please.”

“I won’t. Not about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Hang up, babe. Make it safe.”

“Okay.”

Go, go, go. Please, just get there. 

Letting up, you change your speed, hoping to everything good in the world that this feeling you have is only a feeling and nothing more. 

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

What a strange emotion, wanting his reason for not picking up solely being because he doesn’t wanna talk to you. That is an answer you can deal with. 

But you still can’t fight off the jagged pulses telling you it’s something else. 

After an agonizing drive, you finally see his complex, tensing harder the further and further away you have to park. 

Whipping into a spot, you screech into it before hauling your bag out, popping the trunk and desperately grabbing a plastic box you always keep inside. 

And the mad dash drenches you long before you seek cover, your bones shivering shivering shivering from the chill.

Yoongi has to be home. His car is here. 

But he still won’t pick up the fucking phone.

Skidding at his door, your knocks are rapid, knuckles singed from the ice cold wraps.

Answer, answer, answer. For fuck’s sake, he better answer. 

After a haunting moment of silence, you decide to call one more time, head wet and bones shivering as you press the phone to your damp ear. 

Finally. “Hello.” 

“Open the door,” you jump into commanding, hearing nothing other than a voice that sounds so crushed and low that it crumples you inside. 

“You’re here?” 

“Yeah, let me in.” Fuck, your teeth are clattering against each other, whether it’s from the rain, the cold, or anger, you can’t tell. 

But the reply you get is the coldest thing imaginable. And it sets your whole body aflame. 

“Not tonight.”

Hell no. Hell fucking no Yoongi is not going to get rid of you that easily. Not when you have a boatload of things to say and only one dock to dump them all on, “Yoongi, I swear to god—” 

“Not tonight—”

“—you don’t let me in I’m—”

“Go home—”

“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”

Oh, you’re pissed. You’re so fucking pissed because this all could’ve been avoided if none of them were stupid. Or prideful. Or whatever the fuck boys decide to be when they can’t let something go. 

And this man still has the audacity to give you the stiff arm, silence on the line before he rasps out another short, “I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Go home.” 

“No!” 

He says your name. So, so softly, before a gut-wrenching, 

“Please.”

Breath shaken, you rest your forehead against chilly wood, hoping it quells the fire you feel rising from your rib cage. 

You can’t give up. Not when you have so much to say. Not when you have to check on him and make sure he’s fine. 

Not when you give into the strongest premonition that you need to be nowhere else but with him tonight. 

You will stay. Stay, stay, stay. Even if he doesn’t want to see you. 

Voice trembling in rage and concern and everything in between, you feel your eyes sear through when they close, mission boiling down to one more desperate choice, 

“…No.” 

You’re cold. And wet. But you will stand out here for as long as it takes him to let you inside—a night, a day, no matter what.

And for a moment. Or a few. You think he’s dead set on making you prove that. 

But you finally, finally, finally hear a sigh before a lock turn, and you try to prepare yourself for what you see but he opens the door and his face comes into view holy shit he looks like a wreck—

“What the fuck,” you grit out as you rush in with vision swimming, digging into your bag for the medkit you hastily stashed and swinging off your sandals because you gotta get something in the—

A hand grips you hard, tugging you back before you even register what’s happening.

As your feet stumble back onto linoleum, your gaze snaps to the ground. 

And your breath cuts like it’s your last. 

Shards. 

Pieces.

Thousands of wood and glass chips litter the entire open area of the living room. 

And realizing where they came from strikes like lightning. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck, what did Yoongi do?

“I told you, doll.”

You choke on a sob.

“Go home.”

Your breaths return before you straighten, tears flowing freely as you don’t know whether to start cleaning up the chaos or finally facing the one who caused it.

No, no, no. Get rid of it. 

Throw it out, all of it, all of it. 

A new fire roars to life, forging your steeling commitment as you wrestle out of Yoongi’s hold.

What did he do, what did he do?

Revving with smoke out of your ears, you burn a path to the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag before marching into the wreckage. Up go the biggest pieces first, chucked into plastic before the smaller ones follow.

Throw it all. This one, this one, and this one.

Yoongi isn’t even wearing shoes. He can cut himself up even more if this all stays where it is. 

Shit, this is everywhere. 

When you realize you’re gonna need a broom, you storm back into his laundry closet to yank one out and keep going. When you go to sweep, the sharpest voice cuts through your fingers.

“Stop.”

Your grit grips the tool even tighter. Because you won’t. Don’t dare look into his expression, either, because you know that one glance will melt every scream on your tongue. So you stay resolute and shoot rejection to the ground, “No.”

“Just go, please.”

“No.”

This hurts. 

This really, really hurts. 

Yoongi has never, ever said these things to you and it feels like a knife jabbing into the same spot over, and over again. You almost prefer three new months of no contact over whatever the hell this is.

But you have to keep going. Eyes clenching, lips wobbling, you must keep going. 

Because you came here for a reason other than this mess. And he’s gonna have to do better than this to kick you back out into the rain. 

“I got it.” 

“Let me do it.” 

“Your brother needs you.”

“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” You harden your fist on the sweeper, tugging it more towards your shoulder with finality. And you gather all the energy you need to leave no more room for arguments, because Yoongi is going to listen, “So sit down.”

It hurts.

He wants to say shit. You know he wants to.

But he only breathes hard with eyes closed, following your orders and carrying his dark clouds to the dining room. 

When he finally leaves you alone, this is when you look his way. 

In sweats and a shirt, he appears fine. But with a deep pang, you notice he’s slightly limping. Judging from those knuckles, you wonder if they’re red from the fight or from hitting another wall of his apartment. 

Or from whatever the fuck happened around your feet.

Shit.

While he dumps himself at his table, you clean up the pieces of his rampage, mentally noting that one plan of yours has now changed. 

This one. These, too. A string here. A metal piece there.

You don’t know how long it takes you. All you know is that you’re burning inside, determined to clean everything and sweep this chaotic energy away. 

One more. Two more. Another one here.

As soon as you’re done, you lug the trash bag out of the front door and don’t give a shit what happens to it now.

Keep going. There’s more that you need to take care of.

The fuel inside of you rages on, anger conflicting with anxiety and past worries and sadness for something that didn’t even happen. As you spin, you vow yourself to keep pushing until you can’t anymore. 

Sniffling. Shivering. But staying strong because things could’ve gone a lot worse. 

Yoongi meets you by the table, messy, damp hair shielding his features. “You’ve done enough.” 

“I still need to—” 

“Just.” He looks away. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.” 

“Do what? I’m helping you.” 

That’s what you do for each other, right? You both help each other. But now you’re not so sure because Yoongi comes back with not an acknowledgement, nor a way of relenting. 

But ice. 

“Who said I needed it?” 

And in all the time you’ve spent with this man, this is the first time you’ve felt downright cold. “Yoongi, what?” Your eyes travel across his face, chest caving in when there’s barely any hints of vitality. “Are you serious?” 

“You think I’m joking?” 

“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?” 

“I say a lot of things.” 

…Oh.

That hurt. That… That physically couldn’t have hurt any harder. 

Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in disbelief because you are on the verge of losing it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”

Walking away, you start rearranging pillows on the couch pushed askew. “Like how perfect I am.” Picking up his books from the now non-existent coffee table. “And how there’s no one else.” 

As you give the volumes a new home on his intact tv stand, you turn to face him again. “Those are just words, too, huh?” 

Yoongi kicks his head back with a smile, one that cuts instead of mends. “Nah… Not tonight.” 

“Not tonight what.” 

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” 

“The fuck we aren’t.” It’s his turn to walk away, with a slow head shake that you really don’t like. “Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head to the side, but not enough for you to fully see him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want you to. “But you’re going home.” 

Something’s off. There’s something completely off but all you feel is sadness and rejection in your ribcage. “So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.” 

He finally faces you, miles away even though you’re just rooms apart. “You’re gonna go there?” 

“I am.” 

“Wow.” 

That’s what he comes back with? This is gutting you from the inside out and you have no idea what’s happening but now rage is flaring into your mouth, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?” 

“Do you even know?” 

“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!” 

“That’s cus—” 

Your response sears over his floors, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.” Breath shaken, you continue dumping out all your thoughts and previous concerns, “If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.” 

For a person that you’ve come to know as so warm, Yoongi’s entire aura freezes you over as you keep talking. “And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…” 

All he does is stare. Why isn’t he doing anything else? Is he really flipping the switch and choosing to legitimately let you leave this time?

Fine then. 

“You know what?” Giving up, you laugh—harsh, and breathy, and without any joy at all. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”

“I swear to—I just said not tonight.” 

Frustration from the game, fear from the ambush after, anxiety from not hearing from them. All of it coalesces into something you can’t even control anymore. Your buffer shuts off, the monster you created seizing the reins, “No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.” 

Stunned, Yoongi huffs in disbelief, jaw working overtime. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.” 

And it looks like he has a beast of his own because his next response to your last attempt has you reeling back in shock, 

“Who asked you?” 

Dark liquid drips onto your soul. 

You can only stare, unblinking and feeling like you’re in an entirely different universe. “Who asked me? Who asked me.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

Forget the question of who asked you because… Who are you even talking to? Who is this person standing in front of you because it’s not the Yoongi you know. It’s so jarring and hurtful and strange that you truly feel thrust into the middle of a nightmare. 

You’re gonna do it. You’re actually gonna leave this time. 

“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.” 

God, it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts.

You don’t even know where this is all coming from. All you know is that you’re angry and there’s no stopping the hot magma bubbling in your center. 

Silence fills the room.

And it rains. It pours.

But finally, you hold a sob back before burning a shaky path to his door, wrestling with the lock before yanking it open—

Only to have it shut back in your face, so thrown when you realize you’re getting spun. Air whooshes out of you before your shoulder blades connect with wood—  

And this is the goddamn breaking point. The walls you haphazardly built to keep you upright collapse and tumble. It’s so potent and blinding that you don’t even realize your hands are connecting with his chest in the weakest, saddest ways and you are outright screaming. 

“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—” 

“Whoa, hold u—” 

“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—” 

“Just listen—” 

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—” 

Your lips are smashed to hell, his lips bruising so hard you feel it in the back of your skull. And it’s a whole storm as Yoongi pins you against the door, leg wedging between yours and his hands gripping you like a vice. It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. 

“I swear to—” 

You don’t know what to do. What to do what to do what to do, and all your madness jangles as you’re yanked and slammed against another wall, breath leaping into his open mouth before you tug at his hair, digging anger through his shoulders. 

“Can’t fucking listen, can you?” 

“No,” you rip from your throat, shoving him back only to gravitate right back and lock lips again. 

And he rips at your clothes, tearing the front of your shirt so far your chest emerges on full display. Before you can even react to the cuts on his face, Yoongi’s hand clenches around your throat, making you gargle just how you fucking want to right now. 

“Shouldn’t even fucking be here.” 

“When has that ever stopped us.” You groan as you get rapidly led back into something hard, and you realize it’s the dining table digging into your ass. 

“He’s still home.” 

“So?”

“Shouldn’t you—”

“Then kick me out!” you taunt. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.” 

Yoongi works his jaw before gripping tighter, making you groan and your gut flare into something primal. Nostrils flaring, he moves to grip your head hard enough to make your stomach flip but not firm enough to scare you. 

Never to scare you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.” 

Your eyes are ice. 

“Are you.” 

You solely watch in determination, breath harsh from your nose and billowing out like steam. Drilling your answer into his eyes, you charge the surrounding air enough to spark like the flashing sky outside. 

And Yoongi cracks like lightning. 

“Goddamn it.” 

Everything happens at once and in quick succession. Teeth grit to hell, Yoongi pulls you upward before fast stepping you to his bedroom, slamming you through the door before you shove him right into his desk. 

Things teeter and shake and clang with each impact, your storm disrupting everything in its path and creating a tornado of desire and thoughts in your brain. 

Something swirls and twists between your souls, tightening and condensing into emotions darker than midnight. And as angry as you are, it’s slipping into a dangerous mania, and you’ve never been this excited for anything in your life. 

“Stubborn.” 

“Coward.” 

Your back stings as you’re pushed back into his door, the wood smacking into the spackle of his wall. Rough lips smother yours as you claw at his shoulders, neck, hair, and you hear him growl into your mouth, 

“Want me to kiss your ass? Suck my dick then we’ll talk.” 

“Fuck you. I give better head than you anyway.” 

His words rival the deepest growl, “Prove it.” 

“Make me.”

Whirlwind. Storm. Tempest. At this point, it’s a whole goddamn high. Your body is thrumming and the only way to feed your anger is to channel it through actions. 

And truth be told, you need this. You both do. With all the high strung emotions that had nowhere to go until you collided?

This is liberation. 

You’re shoved onto your knees before Yoongi dives into his pants, and you’re already hungry and impatient enough to help him shrug his sweats down before he can do it himself. 

“Choke on it,” he commands, holding his dick and watching as you note how hard he already is. When you waste no time taking him in, you elicit the deepest groan you’ve ever pulled from him when you fling spit onto his length. 

Maybe his reaction is to your face. Because you’re still mad as fuck and you aren’t done letting him know that. 

With a passing thought, you realize that this is all new. But you’re welcoming it because it’s working. Only Yoongi can bring out this passion even in anger, or maybe the two of you were going to get to this point no matter what. 

“Fuck.” He steadies the bottom of your chin while you suck him off. “Uh huh. Got anything else to say?” 

You flick him off, and he hums with a rumble, his cock reacting and hitting the back of your prideful throat. 

“Fuck you, too, doll.” His talks devolve into hisses, grunts, moans when you slobber all over yourself, and your cunt is already dripping with your own slick. “There you go. Gonna take it all? Or are you gonna keep running that mouth?” 

And you pop off before taunting, “Find out, pussy.” 

And you’re swallowing him before he shoves you all the way forward, your body arching up in a gag but filled with him him him, your nose flat against his pelvis and his dick squeezing tears from your eyes and your throat overstuffed to hell and there’s no way he’s gonna forget this moment. You’re making damn sure of it. 

Another middle finger raises as you’re tensing around him, and you can barely hear him above you but you do know he’s massively pleased. Tears stream down your eyes when you’re yanked off, gasping for air and being pulled off the ground. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Throat hoarse, you attempt speech but it doesn’t matter anyway, because his lips steal them all. And your cunt is slapped with a whole palm, making you flinch and shoot out a whine into his kiss. 

Before you know it, your body hits the bed before he joins you, arms bulging as he rips your top open completely. You can’t even think straight as he teases your earlier efforts, “I’ve had better.” 

“Oh, you fucking—Shut the fuck up,” you growl, a moan leaving without permission as he palms your cunt again. Just when you think he’s gonna top you, Yoongi hauls you up, hastily leading you around the bed until your back connects with another wall. 

You love that shit. And you’re starting to think Yoongi is very, very aware of this fact. 

“Take those fuckin’ pants off,” he orders. “And hands on the wall before I put them there.” 

“Can’t make me do shit—”

Fingers grip your chin before Yoongi gets right into your face, primal instinct making you go on full alert. As his tongue prods his cheek, your whole lower body quivers. “I can. And I will, if you don’t behave.” Tapping your jaw in a warning, he hums. “Now do what I fucking say.” 

Holy shit, he’s not playing around. Which only heightens your desire to peaks previously unreached, and you’re shucking your bottoms off while he yanks his drawer open for condoms. Hurrying, you fling your clothes away before planting—

Yoongi smashes his whole front against your back—pinning your whole body against the cold, rough wall—before intertwining long fingers with yours. “Good girl.” 

Hitching your hips back, he sticks your ass out as you slip, and you feel his cock tease your entrance. Groaning, you grip your hands into fists as he continues to rub your cunt but never enter. Denying, denying, denying. Smacking your pussy and still not letting you feel him inside. 

And it’s maddening. “Please!” 

“Please what,” he asks, giving your ass a spank that has you flinching into the wall. 

And, without any shred of mercy, this goes on for longer than he’s ever held out. It’s so sickening that tears start flowing from your eyes, and you devolve into saying anything to get him to fuck your brains out. Between spanks on your ass, slaps on your tits, and aggravating kisses on your back, Yoongi doesn’t let you phase him for minutes. 

It’s when you choke on a sob that he finally, finally squeezes inside of you, checking for your nod before wrecking you completely. 

“Oh, fuck—” Your eyes shut tight as you try to keep yourself upright, hands pushing against the wall as your legs shift with every thrust. 

“This ass. Fuck.” Yoongi’s pace is relentless, hands bruising your hips and your cheeks smacking into his pelvis over and over and over. “It’s a goddamn problem.” 

You’re trying so hard. So, so hard to stay on the wall. But your hands are too sweaty; they're starting to slip with each attempt. “Bed,” you command. “Bed now.” 

And he obliges immediately, pulling out and yanking you back. Mouth to your ear, he both checks in while making your legs jelly, “You tapping out?” 

“Break my fucking back,” you rasp in return, hearing him growl in satisfaction before burying you facedown into his bed. As he plunges inside again, you grip at his sheets, driven to the brink and reveling in all the things he’s saying to you while feeling him in your stomach. 

Suddenly, you feel your arms pulled back, and you yell into his mattress as he buries himself even deeper. Everything you’re screaming makes no sense, but the phenomenal sensation you feel as you go limp renders you speechless anyway. 

Yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing as he pushes his thumb into your asshole, because you clench so hard around him that he chuckles darker than dark. Careening into space, you kiss the edge of euphoria before he inconveniently pulls out, launching a sling of insults from your mouth. 

“What was that?” 

“I said fuck you!” 

“Thought so.” 

Not done in the slightest, Yoongi hauls your thighs so flush against him that you have to use your fingertips for support. Just as you’re about to argue, he rams into you from a new and impossibly enticing angle and holy fuck it feels so good you want to weep.

“Put that fucking hand down,” he growls, smacking away the fingers you didn’t even know were on your mouth. “If you wanna talk shit.” 

“Fuck—!” 

“Uh huh. Let it out, baby girl.”

You’ve never felt this out of control. This wild. This out of body. Your head is yanked back, your back pressing into the front of his shirt before you feel him so far into your guts that you quiver. 

Now at the mercy of his tongue in close range, you hear his gravelly tone in your ear, “What’s my fuckin’ name.” 

“Asshole—” 

A hard smack to your tits has you crumpling with a whine. “Say it.” 

“I’ll say it if I wanna say it—” 

Another spank to your inner thigh and you’re gone. Eyes roll as he tweaks your nipple, and your words are almost garbled when he grips your chin from behind. “This what we’re doing? Hmm?” 

You laugh breathy before you taunt, “Uh huh.” 

“Mm…” Despite your laugh, you shake. “I wouldn’t do that, doll.” 

“Make me. Bet you can’t.” 

Tensed and veins angry, Yoongi grips both your tits before snarling, “That’s enough.” 

Swiftly, he shoves you down into the sheets, muscular frame pinning you as he strokes up into you just right. Again. Again. It’s all too slow and too effective and you’re trying to stay mad but all you can feel is perfection, your back arching at his thrusts and mewling at his low growls in your ear. 

“You wanted this.” Another thrust. “Talking shit.” Your jaw goes slack. “Pissing me off.” 

Your groan is downright erotic. Why why why? Just knowing you’re making him this mad flutters your cunt and, from the sinister chuckle shooting into your neck, Yoongi definitely felt that. 

“Fuckin’ thought so.” 

When he reaches to grab your breasts, the last thrust has you crying out in a flurry of pleasure. 

Every single thought is Yoongi, from beginning to end in a biblical cycle of debauchery. Exertion leaves you slick, sweat coating the expanse of your skin only to press into his bed, your mess your mess your mess. At his hands. The smacks of his cock. The rolls of his hips. Are you gone? Are you here? If he’s bruised then you feel like you are, too, and you welcome the temporary pain as Yoongi’s fingers dig ever deeper into your waist fuck one’s now pinning your head down. 

The moans you let out are unending, and your thighs shake when all you get in response is a laugh of condescension. 

“Look at you. Can’t even stay mad.” 

“Fuck you!” You’re close, you’re close, you’re close again. Release is at your fingertips, but Yoongi yanks himself out to rip it away from your outstretched fingers. “No!” 

“What, doll.” 

“Please!” 

“Nah.” 

Body sore, you’re flipped over with no mercy as something else presses against your cunt. 

Fucking hell, he’s eating you out now? Shaking, you feel Yoongi’s tongue swirl around your thrumming clit before he sucks, edging you to the point of tears and heartbreak. And it proves too much as you grab at his head, yank at his hair, because he lets up when you’re close. 

Every. Single. Time. 

Your madness spirals into your curses, and he relishes in your despair, continuing to lick and suck and slap your thighs with patience. “What do you say?” 

“Please!” 

“Mm. Not loud enough.” 

“Yoongi, please.” 

“Oh, we’re saying names now?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it aches. It’s starting to borderline hurt. “I’ll be good,” you barter, beg, plead with a head spinning off its own axis. “I’ll do anything.” 

“Do it yourself then.” 

Later, when you look back on tonight, you’ll be embarrassed and shy to hell. But right now, you’re so over any shyness that you don’t hesitate, reaching down to rub at your clit and moaning when it’s so sensitive.

And Yoongi gets a front row seat. 

His groan is gutteral. And it doesn’t take you long to quicken your pace, bucking your hips and whining to the ceiling. You’re so so so close it’s right there—

Your hand is smacked away. And after you try to wrestle out of his grip, you are a flat out, blubbering mess. “Yoongi… Please…” 

“Nah.” 

This is torture. And you’re frightened at how much you’re enjoying it. “I’m so close.” 

“You’ll come when I say you can.” 

“Please! …Please..”

“You done being a brat?” 

“No! Fuck. Yes!” If you weren’t so far gone, you may have deciphered a tiny smile of amusement. But it won’t be for months later until you’ll realize that you were wrong. 

Because the menacing flash of teeth you see is much too wide to be anything other than pride. “The fuck did I say? Use your words.” 

You know you’re still upset. You know Yoongi is still upset. But for some reason, you feel closer to him than you have in awhile, and you wonder if lust and madness are two sides of the same coin. “Let me come. Please.” 

Yoongi finally obliges with something he hadn’t pleasured you with yet. And your vision blanks as you yelp at the sensation, his slick fingers pistoning into your folds so fast you’re arching so taut. From between your quivering legs, you hear one final command, 

“Then fucking come.” 

And you burst, so hard you almost feel like something threatens to spew from your cunt. But all you can do is shake and thrash under his grip, so erratic that you feel like Yoongi’s starting to pin you down. Gone, gone, gone, you’re sure the veins of your neck threaten to break through your sweaty skin. 

Then you feel his cock thrust inside of you, and you whip your head forward only to get your airway cut off. “Again,” he calmly repeats, flinging you back to the last time this happened. 

Only this time, there’s even less room for you to make any other choice. 

“I said again.” 

Your body cannot fathom disobedience, pulsing and milking his perfect fit. Over, and over, and over. You hear rumbling from a dragon above, feel breaths of steam whooshing as it watches you come undone. 

“Yoongi—” 

A light slap to your cheek is your only warning before your chin is tugged, lips smushing into yours to swallow your straining sobs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your body is still thrumming, inundating around his cock until your emotions spill from your core. Toes. Fingers. Everything is straining and locking in place. 

“So fucking hot.” He rips your soul right out. “Shit.” 

You fly through time and space, gathering emotions and feelings and spiraling spiraling spiraling. Crying. You’re crying. Full on crying you’re so overwhelmed with everything truly you were so mean to him you upset him holy fuck you should’ve left when he told you to—

“Baby.” 

But you cannot stop crying, choke choke gasping on sobs. 

“Babe.” 

“I—I—” 

Your name stabs you with a crisp shot, coupled with a firm grip on your chin, snapping you back to lucid. And Yoongi’s eyes are frantically searching your own. “Look at me.” 

You do. Do you? You do. And his eyes… 

They’re not angry at all. It’s pure concern. Steadfast concentration. And something reflecting your soul. “Breathe.” 

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, coughing and reaching for oxygen you didn’t know you were denying. Air rushes back into your lungs as you inhale. 

“There you go. Keep going.” 

You do, gulping down air and hiccuping a breath or two. Your cheek is being caressed, you think. And with another pass, you know it is. 

“Relax for me.” And you hiccup a sob. “Breathe, babe.” 

You do, you do, you do. Yoongi kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and you breathe more and more through it all. “You with me?” 

“Always,” you answer, filter off because you are hanging by a thread and he’s holding the top. “Please don’t kick me out ever,” you hiccup. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything for you but I—could—never handle that—” 

You’re tenderly hushed before lips slide over yours, attempting to swallow your thoughts and your sobs and your oncoming tears. As you flood his bed with apologies, Yoongi keeps wiping them all.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I’m really sorry.” 

“Babe.” 

“You told me so many times—” 

“Breathe, angel.” 

You blink at the change in name, and it makes you focus just a bit stronger. Floating down from the precipice. 

“I wasn’t kicking you out,” he slowly explains, kissing sweat from your forehead. His words feel like a calm, rock-filled river over your eyes. “I felt like an idiot and hated you seeing me like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Just… Like this.” 

“You’re perfect like this,” you hitch out, not caring about what flows out of your mouth. “So perfect. Always to me. I just wanted to help you, baby, I’m so sorry—” 

He hugs you so tight more tears squeeze out. 

And so do more confessions, “I… I care about you. I think a little too much. If I lost you, I wouldn’t—be able—” 

“I’m here.” 

“So please don’t push me away.” 

“I won’t.” 

“I know you don’t make promises but—” 

“I promise.” Without an ounce of doubt, Yoongi places a firm, lingering kiss on your temple. “Promise. Fuck.” As he holds you tight, you feel him shake before you hear the tiniest sniff at your ear. 

Oh. He doesn’t need to be like this, too. You try to move your hand up between your bodies to comfort him, but your whole limb feels gelatinous. So you simply whisper, “It’s okay, baby.” 

You can’t tell how long you lie like this, with his beautiful weight on yours. But time is irrelevant when your mind is unwinding from hours of whirring, starting to finally accept the fact that everyone is okay and you don’t have to be angry anymore. 

“Come on,” Yoongi rasps, voice cracked and airy. “Let’s go.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Shower.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

You’re so thrown and dizzy from what just happened that even getting to the bathroom is a blur. What you kinda feel is Yoongi holding you upright when your legs buckle, but you don’t remember when he leaves your side to turn the water on. 

As he flips on the light, your eyes squeeze until they adjust, and you watch as he tests the water while fully clothed. Air conditioning starts to give you a chill, but the shower warms up just in time because he reaches out to guide you inside. 

Wait. Is he not joining you? Bleary, you grab at his shirt when he steps away, eyes pleading. “Are you coming in, too?” 

Yoongi stops before he gives a shake of his head. “I’ll take mine when you’re done,” he says through a slight smile. “We’ll take care of you first.” 

That doesn’t make sense. Even in your depleting haze, you know something doesn’t add up. “You can join me now. I don’t mind.” When you try to lift his shirt, Yoongi visibly flinches when you brush over his ribs.

And all the murk around your head vanishes in a snap. 

He kept his shirt on that whole time. Not once did your positions allow you to see his upper body fully. And now he’s not gonna get in the shower or take his shirt off? 

Your voice lowers two octaves when you reach full clarity. “Let me see.” 

Unblinking, Yoongi tries to back away, “Don’t worry—” 

“Let me see it, baby,” you command, breath cut until he finally allows you to lift his shirt up holy fuck those injuries look so painful tears prick your eyes. “Oh, my god, Yoongi—” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re hurt.” You feel these wounds deep in your ribs, and you tell him to get your kit what the hell he fucked you while feeling those? 

Attempting to alleviate your stress, Yoongi decides to strip fully and step into the shower, ignoring your pleas to grab your med kit and promising you can take care of him when you’re done washing up. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, doll.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Promise.” 

And when his arms wrap around you, this is when you finally let go. Huge, chest-wracking sobs echo around tile, and Yoongi stays quiet through your cathartic release. 

There’s another reason you were so upset. And it has nothing to do with any of them, but with yourself. The main reason you’ve been so riled up and frustrated is because… This is technically your fault, too. 

But, unsurprisingly, he won’t let you take any blame whatsoever. 

“You got hurt cus I said to play.” 

“Nope.” 

“I wore the outfit that day.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“And lost my friends at the club.” 

“No.” 

Sniffling in quick succession, you think about one other option. Some form of closure that can double as compromise. Voice soft, you suggest the last resort you have, 

“How about we share it.” 

Yoongi blinks twice before he clarifies, “You wanna share the blame?” When you nod, he huffs through the tiniest smile of confusion. “Mm. Then it’s our fault.” 

“Okay.” 

After shaking his head, he closes his eyes, molding his forehead with yours. “What are you doing to me.” 

A sniffle. “Wrecking your water bill.” 

His laughs join yours as you barely get your sentence out before giggling, and to feel him so close and present and here makes your worries slink down the drain. 

Hands trace down your arms, walking along falling rivers before creating ponds with your fingers intertwined. “Gonna clear me out someday.” 

“Duh.” 

He’s himself again. 

And after a whole night of chaos, you feel like yourself again, too. 

That’s all you both need to feel peace. 

-

-

You keep that tranquility carrying you through his room, peeking into his closet to grab the biggest shirt and sweats you can find before drying your head. 

But no matter how much water you can dry, your body will keep being washed in relief. And it’s the calmest feeling, watching as Yoongi does the simplest things near his bed. 

Your lips curve when he pulls up his pants; your heart beats when he grabs a tee. It’s in this moment that you admit that these outfits of his are your favorites, and you gravitate to him as he slips cotton over his damp head. 

“Come on,” you softly offer as you turn. “I’ll make food and get you some ice.”

Again, Yoongi just stares with a faint smile. But his eyes are alive again, so you’re more than fine if he just follows your lead without a word.

In the kitchen, you pause amongst the appliances, the cabinets watching as you utilize your phone to find a good recipe. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—” 

Looking up, you eye him in thought before choosing to focus on something else. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.” 

Opening yet another tab to add to your hundreds, you type away before selecting a good starting point. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…” 

Scroll, scroll. 

“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?” 

Despite asking, you go right back to your phone before Yoongi can even respond. Scrolling and clicking and reading again. 

Scroll, scroll. 

“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”

“I love you.” 

Time bursts.

Your chest glows. 

Everything starts to beat, beat, beat in slow motion. 

And you don’t even feel like you’re in the room anymore. “…What?” 

You need to hear it again. You need to need to need to, because if you heard him wrong, you will check yourself and bolt right out the door. 

His eyes. 

Despite the battlefield on his skin, they are dripping, and sparkling, and full. The whole world suspends as he stares right into your soul, caressing it with his wounded hands and cradling it in his bruised arms. 

No matter how hard the moon will try—for years, and years, and years more—it will never outshine this single, shaken, solidified admittance. 

“I love you, doll.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to fucking do. 

Why is Yoongi saying this now? Why is he choosing now of all times to make you the happiest person in the universe? 

No. 

Happiness isn’t even close to what you feel and you’re pretty sure you’re crying but nothing makes sense and your vision plunges under sunlit waters. 

“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to.” 

What?

“I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—” 

You lunge forward before he offers his last syllable, careful to avoid his wounds and not mush his face because he would do the same for you. 

And it’s all too much tonight. The lingering fear, the dying anger, the floods of relief, the joy. You can’t stop your sobs from coming out in bursts, your whole body wracking with overwhelming emotion as he grits into your skin,

“Goddamn it, I—”

“Yoongi—”

“—so fucking much.”

Yoongi loves you. He’s here. He loves you, loves you, loves you and the beats of your heart pulse orange and blue, blue, blue. 

Nothing will ever compare to this moment. Nothing. You will bottle this one up in a jar to place next to all the others you have stored, and when you are lonely, or hurt, or even when you’re doing just fine, you will uncork it to surround yourself with this memory and know that everything will be okay. 

He loves you. 

Fuck, he loves you? 

You choke out his name with a sob, and he squeezes you even harder. When you can’t reply with anything else, he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, his tears taking root and blossoming into beautiful vibrant fruit all along your rib cage.

He loves you.

Why can’t you seem to say it back? What the fuck is wrong with your tongue?

Maybe it’s because saying it doesn’t feel like enough. Like it’s laughable that there are words for this feeling because they don’t nearly represent what you harbor in your very being for this man. 

There’s no way any words are enough. Not for him. Nor for you. Because right now, Yoongi needs something more. And you’re going to give him more than everything. 

“Yoongi, I—”

He captures your lips in his, and you let him push you against his counter and consume you everywhere he wants to. Between his claims, your sobs have room to breathe. Which makes for a horrible showing of your attempting to say what you want to. “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”

Fingers press into the back of your head, a forehead smushing into yours and shutting you up completely. “I’m sorry,” he says, words rolling down the tracks your tears have walked. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.” 

“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.”

“It is.” You squeeze his hand, feeling the lovely digs of his knuckles in your palm. His scent wafts around you like an embrace, and you know there’s nothing quite like it. At all. “You’re okay, so I’m okay.” 

After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, you feel his hands ball into fists at your ears. “I just—fuck.” 

There’s no telling what he’s thinking about in that brain of his. But you need him to know that there’s nothing more for him to be sorry for. All you care about is that he’s present, responding, and himself. 

“Babe,” you whisper, still not believing those three words coming out of his mouth. “I’m here.” 

“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, you’re more than sure he can taste your rainfall. 

None of this is real. Because you can’t believe it at all. Even as Yoongi continues his journey across your neck, your shoulders, your jaw, your face, you still can’t piece together that this is truly happening.

When you feel him hard on your pelvis, you remember that he didn’t get the same release you got earlier. But you’re not gonna be the one to suggest going again, all of this will be what he decides. 

And what Yoongi decides is to pull you closer, breathing you in while you do the same. His kisses are never ending, and your hands roam languidly along his shoulders, his hair, stretching across the expanse of his back. One that has held the weight of the world and then some.

His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching as softly as the kisses being planted along your breasts. 

“If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing, babe.” You gasp into his next rough press to your lips. “You’re so—fuck.”

You said you’d let him lead. But as Yoongi starts to walk you into his bedroom again, you think about his injuries and feel more concerned after knowing they’re there. So you quietly stop him as you reach his bed, “Are you sure?” 

“I’ll be alright, doll,” he whispers, lowering you down and smiling so tranquilly your heart lurches. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.” 

Giggling, you fight the heat from searing your cheeks as you smile. “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.” 

“I don’t think so.” Yoongi smirks, getting up. “Lemme get a cond—” 

“It’s okay,” you halt him with a hand, and he freezes. 

Full stop. No movement. Not even a breath. “...What?” 

“We don’t…” You swallow, stomach fluttering at his expression. “We don’t have to this time.” 

Because Yoongi’s eyes have not left your face. “You sure?” 

Then something causes you to smile. Knowing that if there’s anyone you want to do this with, it’s this man right here and now. There’s genuinely no one else in the world with whom you would wanna share this experience, and the fact that he’s still asking makes you emotional.

Cradling his face with the most tender touch you can imagine, you confirm, “Just for a little bit.” And you add something you think he needs to keep hearing. “I trust you.” 

Gulping down any extra emotions spilling from your heart’s chalice, your words come out a little wobbled. “And I want to, if you want it, too.” 

“I want what you want, doll.” 

“Then it’s okay.”  

Clothes on or off, you still feel so shy underneath him. 

But this time, you vow to shove those feelings of unworthiness to the side. Because you are fully invested in this moment above all others. And Yoongi deserves more than you can give. 

When he slowly tugs his sweats from your legs, you’re already choking back tears. As he climbs on top, you await the connection you never in your dreams would’ve imagined. 

And when Yoongi stares at you one more time, you know exactly what he’s asking. 

“Yes, my love,” you wisp into his skin, craning up to kiss him and swallowing his last slice of doubt. Knowing you’ll say it again and again and again. 

His brows pinch as he kisses you—slow, purposeful, understanding. Then he positions himself, and you can physically feel his hand brush your cunt as he does so. If he ever asks if you felt him shake, you will deny it. But only for a year or two. 

As soon as you feel him—only him, solely him—you swell with a current of emotion. And it pulls you all the way under when he’s fully sheathed inside. 

“Holy fucking shit.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Fuck.” 

Simply having him inside, with no barriers or obstacles in between? You’re already close. There’s no early explanation, but you already feel overwhelmed enough to come. 

No no no. You want this to last forever, so you wait for Yoongi to gather himself because he appears to be fighting, too. 

Chuckling, you ask, “You good, baby?” 

And your lover snaps his gaze to your face, bangs sweeping across your cheeks and eyes unblinking. “Yeah, just...” He stares at your inquisitive expression before whooshing out a harsh breath. “Just this is about to make me bust.” 

You burst into laughter before admitting you were just thinking the same thing, and his slow grin makes you want to cry. “We’re not good at this.” 

“No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.” 

“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.” 

Feeling a twitch more prominent than ever, you giggle as Yoongi puffs out pained amusement. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.” 

“Okay, okay,” you surrender, loving how out of sorts he seems. He’s fighting for his life and you’re enjoying the hell out of it. 

“You’re a little too perfect right now.”

Maybe one day you will agree with him. But that day is far from reach, your head shaking in quiet disagreement.

“You are.”

“Nowhere close,” you whisper.

His nose brushes against yours. “Say that again and see what happens.”

“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”

His shove up your cunt makes you see stars. “What did I fuckin’ say?” 

“What—”

Another launch has you careening through space, lip bitten and suppressing a hearty whine. “You think there’s someone else?” Again. “Hmm?” 

Again. 

You’re so dazed and mind-fucked to pieces that your speech is barely audible. But your chin is grabbed as you’re snapped straight, and your eyes try their hardest to focus on slitted ones above. “You’re gonna regret saying that.” 

You just laugh, whine pinging sharp into the ceiling as he shoves forward so hard your whole body shifts upward. “Oh, yeah?” 

Yoongi doesn’t respond with words, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and winding towards the edge unbelievably fast. “Uh huh.” 

“Make me then,” you gasp out. “Make me really sorry.” 

The sound Yoongi makes comes from deep within his stomach, the rumbling hum shooting right into your veins like liquid fire. 

And the full-on attack he bursts into renders you completely speechless. Everything Yoongi does pulls you deliciously in all directions—his thrusts, his chain hitting his chest, his grip on your wrists, the way he snags your chin. Everything. 

“Taking me so well like this.” 

“I—”

“So fucking tight.”

Fuck fuck fuck it’s habitual for you at this point, and you unhinge your jaw a split second before he smacks the side of your face. Desire lowers your lids halfway as you feel empowered, and you don’t even recognize your voice as you order him on the spot. “Do it again.” 

Yoongi doesn’t stop his pace as he keeps his eyes on you. 

“Do it again,” you growl, fully limp and a groaning mess when he does exactly what you want. 

Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that you reach up and choke him out. But the back of your head is grabbed before you feel hungry lips smash into yours. You feel your wrists pinned again by one large palm, air chilling for a moment before a hot mouth captures one of your nipples. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi!” 

“Uh uh.” 

“Please—please—” 

You’re still tensing as he devours your chest below his shirt, strokes now slower but just as powerful. 

Your arms still haven’t been freed, but there’s something about being under his control that has you loving this position. Without question. Maybe it’s the fact that you can see him now, losing himself just as he saw you washes in the throes of passion. 

And he licks, sucks, lolls his tongue all over your tits, whispered praises sinking through your bosom as he keeps a grip on your wrists. 

“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—” 

“Shit.” Air whooshes over you before you feel your arms freed and him yank himself out, and you freeze as he unloads right on your stomach, a sharp cocktail of pride and shock in your gut. 

Holy fuck, Yoongi was that close? Did he hold out as long as he could? Shit, he’s breathing so hard his jewelry shakes as it dangles. 

You’re still so surprised that your arms are still locked into bends, and he glances up at you from his kneeled state. “Fuck,” he laughs, and is that… Is Yoongi shy? “Thought I could hold out.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure through your own tiny chuckle. “Oh my god, I promise.” 

He leans down to plant a heart fluttering kiss on your lips, but you hate how he looks pained on the way down. 

Those hits he took… Now you kinda understand his perspective. Because now you want to avenge him in five hundred thousand ways—almost half as many ways as you want to show him how you feel. 

“Stay there, beautiful,” Yoongi orders as he moves to get off the bed, wincing in passes. “I’m not done with you.” 

Damn. He looks even more exhausted than before. “Baby, are you sure?” 

But Yoongi walks right to his bathroom to retrieve a towel, and your eyes may as well transform into hearts when you watch him come back to you. So handsome, even now. Even when he’s simply holding a washcloth, hair completely mussed, soul sparkling and face bruised. 

As he sits to clean your face before moving to your stomach, you can only observe his eyes. So experienced. Calm. At peace. When they drift to yours, it’s instinct that has you shying away. “What, love.” 

Another reason to crumble inside. “I just… nothing,” you whisper. 

And Yoongi finishes with the cloth before tossing it somewhere. “Tell me,” he says, lying down on the ribs with more damage. “I wanna know.” 

“Come on this side,” you tell him, and he obliges without a word. “It’s a secret.” 

“A secret?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi settles before lifting your chin, rubbing an affectionate thumb over any tears still persevering on your cheeks. “I can keep those, you know.” 

Smiling, you fold way too easily. “Okay, I’ll tell.” 

When he leans in, your nervousness and excitement to tell him almost spoils your ability to do so. Like someone gifting a present while wanting to say what it is before it’s even opened. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, tears sprinting to your ducts as Yoongi freezes. When he looks at you, you can’t help but choke on a sob seeing his eyes get as red as the marks on his cheek. “And you deserve more than I could ever give.” 

His eyes hold the heavens and the seas. 

You’re right. Just saying it isn’t fucking enough.

You’re already liplocked again before you can think, saltwater on your face and you don’t even know whose eyes it came from.

Determined, Yoongi starts kissing a trail from your lips to your jaw, and you start to cry as he makes his own journey down the expanse of you. 

All of you.

Is this what it feels like? Is all of this actually, genuinely real?

You hope so, because you feel devotion in each press of his lips, and every touch will be remembered in its own right. Its own pocket of time.

Every single stop.

It almost feels divine when his mouth reaches your folds, lapping at your essence and swirling around your clit. When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing, instead palming your thighs and eating you out like he has all the time in the world. 

Swelling, you already feel close. 

But the way he gets you to fantasia is so natural that you slide into your quivers seemlessly. The transition into your heaven flows like a stream, and your waves engulf his tongue and coat his mouth without trouble. 

This is what it feels like. What it feels like with Yoongi. 

And you wanna keep making love until only sleep can take you from him.

Your hands jut into his hair, gasping as he keeps his pace, and no matter how you squirm he is dead set on holding you down until holy fuck you’re coming again. 

How? What’s happening to you? This constant stream of release is shocking you to the point of crying out, and Yoongi groans into your orgasm and prolongs it with the whole press of his tongue.

“Holy fuck, baby—!” Another wave overcomes the next, and you outright quake in his hands, eyes rolling and vision blinking white. Muscles lock as you can’t keep up with the pleasure, and you’re mercilessly let go only for lips to descend on yours.

Your tears spill into your ears as you kiss him back, wrapping tired arms over his shoulders and raking in deep. 

“Fuck.” And you feel his cock lodge against your entrance, and you’re amazed how hard he is again. 

Does he want what you want? Is he ready again? 

As Yoongi quietly gets up to get a condom, you’re amazed that he wants to keep going after everything that’s transpired. But, if he feels like you do, he’s ready to keep going until the sun comes up three whole times. 

When he sits next to you, your better half appears shy as he bites the wrapper. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Oh, I already know.”

“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile, remembering what he said a long time ago and bringing it back full circle for the next thing you both wanna try. “One day.”

Yoongi only grins. 

And for the next hour, your lover, your secret, your home gives you everything he has, and you come for him more times than you ever have in your life.

Every time, he drags your pleasure out, expertly tearing you down with his movements and building your confidence up with his words. He tells you you’re perfect, and he disagrees when you disagree. When you find tears on your face, he kisses those away, too. When you feel along his silver, he simply watches you in silence. 

No sadness, doubt, nor anger to be found. 

After you physically can’t do any more, Yoongi lies at your side, silent as you play with his hair. You do your best to stay still, not wanting to accidentally push into any of his injuries that you’re gonna beg him to get checked in the morning. 

Once he’s healed? That’s when you’ll never let go. Because you want to crush him into you completely. Mold into him, just so he can feel the brevity of your highest affection. 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“It won’t happen again.” 

“That’s what you said last time.” 

Yoongi stares, seeming to withhold something from you before he palms your cheek. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he reveals, snapping your heart back in two. “We all knew that.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Everything hits you at once: why they stayed, why you and Taehyung had to leave. Why Tae didn’t bring you straight back to the house. And the burns at your eyes match the searing in your gut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.” 

When you start to cry, Yoongi sits up and hangs his head between his sweats. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, sounding defeated as ever. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.” 

Sniffling, you whisper out a thank you. But you don’t want Yoongi to feel like he has to distance himself, so you untangle him—slowly, gently–-before bringing him into your chest. 

After dealing with all that and the tempest in his living room, this man still let you in. From the looks of things, there’s a lot that he had been fighting, and you’re more than appreciative that he opened his door. Not knowing how to put these feelings into words, you say the first things that come to mind. And for some reason, they feel heavier on the way out, 

“Thank you for letting me in. It was raining really hard.” 

Yoongi stiffens hard before holding you closer. 

“Babe?”

No response. Just another batch of weighted quiet. 

Worried, you tilt your head. “Hey. Look at me.”

If he stays right where he is, you’ll have to respect that decision. But he ends up pushing himself up, and as soon as you see moonlight catch on a falling tear, all your instincts reach for him, “Oh, fuck, come here.”

You surround him with everything you have, wanting every single bit of warmth birthed from his love to fill his space instead of yours. Whatever he needs, you will give. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, holding him so close but not nearly close enough. 

Never close enough.

His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you will let him live there whenever he needs to. “I’m not mad anymore, okay?” God, you hate how he’s still so silent. You get it, but you hate whatever made him default to this state. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

After light rain fills the room, your soul breaks at a sniffle, and you crush your love even tighter.

“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi finally whispers, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”

It’s what? What’s he thinking about? Hopefully it’s not anything—

“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.” 

When you choke out a sob, his body locks, words pouring from nowhere and everywhere. “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”

“Yoongi…”

“It’s true.” Sighing, he sniffles again before letting his weight drop onto you in resignation. Or relief. “I mean that.”

“Then… Those three months…”

“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, making you wonder what the hell he’s been through in the past. And if it has something to do with that guitar he smashed to pieces. “But from now on, you can be here whatever you want.” 

Many things have shifted tonight. As if an earthquake had upturned everything between the both of you, only peace has settled in its wake. A peace you had never felt before. As you brush fingers through his hair, you joke, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?” 

“Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.” Kissing your shoulder, Yoongi continues to admit, “He was worried. And hoping you would show.”

Oh. That’s news to you. 

“I knew you wouldn’t. But.” He exhales before nestling in further. “I did hope to see you, too.” 

“It’s okay.” You rub the back of his neck, your fingers feeling nothing but warmth and the softness of his clothes. “It would’ve been too obvious.”

“What would’ve.”

“That I wanted you all to myself.”

“You already have that.”

When you stiffen, your words are tiny. “You know what I mean.”

Yoongi laughs soft, taking one of your hands in his and bringing it up for a kiss as you blurt, “My brother was the one that invited me. To come to those, I mean.”

The way he blinks is comical. “Huh.”

“I know.” It’s your turn to bring his hand close, kissing along his knuckles before you stare out the window behind him. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”

“What if he does?”

You snap your eyes right to his. “Does he?”

Yoongi watches your lips linger on his fingers before he tells the truth, “No.”

“Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?” 

“Who do you think you bought those groceries for?” 

Oh. Wait. “What?” 

Grinning so sly, Yoongi reveals the plan he had all along, “I get you for a week, right?”

Oh. Holy shit. You cannot quite possibly deal with what this man is saying. That whole time you were shopping for his list… No wonder he was already done with dinner when you got there oh you’re gonna get him back for that. 

Light bursts from your center as you grit out through a grin, “You sneaky little—” Pulling his tilted mouth in for another kiss, your heart pulses little pink stars as he leans in with a laugh, and you meet lips again and again until he slowly, reluctantly stops. 

“One day,” he murmurs out of nowhere, and you flick your eyes to his. “I’ll be better.”

Of course he will. You have no doubts. But, just like he always does for you, you’re gonna start offering the same reassurance out loud, even if he knows it’s there. 

And you can’t contain your little laughs at your own joke, despite him just staring into your face right after you crack it, “Don’t make it just one day, silly.” 

Even if you’re very serious, it’s in your nature to lighten things up. Especially after hearing such wonderful news for what’s coming. Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion, 

“We’ll make it as many as we can.”

You hate how you feel him freeze, knowing what that means, what plaguing little thoughts are embedded in that tiny shift. 

Yoongi’s still hesitant to accept.

Because you are, too. In many ways. But this man has been picking you up and making you stronger day after day—in both his presence and absence—that you can’t help but fight to do the same. 

Does he ever think about you? Does he know that you’ll always be with him? No matter how close or far apart you are? You hope so. Because it’s so true that your heart is searing that promise into your soul, branding it as a reminder to reciprocate all this genuine love you’ve never been given before.

He loves you?

You still can’t accept that as fact.

…Maybe one day.

You chuckle to yourself, deciding to keep talking because Yoongi is still so very quiet. “At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat,” you huff in triumph. “Then I’m running away with her.”

It’s a perfect strike of a match. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to pout. “But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”

Yoongi laughs so suddenly you flinch. After a playful scoff, he tries to make you feel better, “She’s still here!”

“Lies.”

“How much are you betting, doll.”

“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”

“This much,” he finally says, pinching your sides and hissing laughter when you scream. “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.” 

“You did threaten to kick me out before.” 

“Huh? When?”

“That day I showed up,” you remind him through a chuckle. Thrown back to that first night, you start to see all the parallels between then and now. And how vastly different things have become. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.” 

The glorious laughter from the depths of his belly makes you grin, and you cringe when his brows pinch in both laughter and pain. “I should’ve!” 

He needs to get those hits healed. “You really should’ve.” 

“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” When you nod, Yoongi shakes his head. “Course you are.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” Your eyes meet, which proves dangerous for you because he bites his smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.” 

“No!” You lie. Because no, you certainly were not! “…Maybe.” 

“Guess what.” 

Suddenly paranoid, you give him a look, already expecting to be tricked again. 

But Yoongi captures your lips without warning, curling your toes into sheets you’re now achingly familiar with. After a few passes, he shifts above, planting a hand at your side and letting his chain slide against your chest as he slots a leg in between yours. 

Yet again, you think about that first night, that first time. The first of apparently, surprisingly, wonderfully unexpectedly many. 

Who would’ve thought rain and a broken ego would bloom into something good? Who would’ve believed a person so close to your roots would be your home? 

As he lets up with one last slow stroke of his tongue, you whisper, “What were you gonna say?” 

At this, Yoongi spreads closed lips, taking his time planting a peck on your nose. “I just fucking love you, doll.” 

Oh. He’s a menace and the most annoying tease on the planet. 

When you can’t do anything but flee into his chest, Yoongi immediately laughs, forcing you back out of your little shell. “You can’t hide now, babe.” 

“I can!” 

Leaned forward in your struggle, you give him no choice but to swoop his head into your neck. Which backfires on you immensely because he decides it’s the perfect time to rasp deep against your ear, “I love fucking you, too.” 

His name flies out of your mouth in disbelief and embarrassment, and his heightened amusement puffs into the burning column below your chin. 

This is the moment something comes over you. Slams into you. Washes you in present nostalgia like lingering footsteps on a balcony. 

And it hurts. It really, really hurts. 

Instead of laughing along, you come down from your high, squeezing him like the pillow that couldn’t replicate his warmth for months. “I miss you.”

After a second, Yoongi questions, “How? I’m right here.”

You know that. You do. But with every hello there’s a goodbye, and you don’t want that this time. Especially now that your heart knows that his beats the same. 

Breathy and shaken, you rest your head in his chest, hoping he doesn’t hear but does at the same time, “I still miss you.”

Strong fingers weakly press into your sides, and while you can’t see him, you know for a fact that his smile is gone. Because he also knows goodbye is coming again, and you can’t stay here forever as long as this is all a secret. 

You feel a sigh wisp over your head before words that make no fucking sense follow it out, “I can’t do shit like this anymore.” 

…What?

No. No no no he can’t be done just like that you both just confessed everything you need to fight say something anything anything—

“I wanna do this the right way.” 

Oh. 

Yoongi’s chest… It’s shaking. 

Pushing yourself up, you search his eyes for answers. “What are you saying?” 

When he looks at you, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it has been there all along, and he only needed a spark to set it ablaze. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.” 

Oh. Oh, shit. Didn’t he say not yet? Didn’t he say he needs more time? He said he’d figure it out what is with the sudden…

Your tears are automatic as Yoongi roams his gaze from one eye to the other, and he’s swallowing before taking a step. A step you didn’t think he’d make. One you didn’t have the courage to take yourself. 

When he utters the words, your soul lets rain fall just as the storm resides.

And right as moonlight shines through his blinds.

“I’ll tell him everything.” 

-

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tbc. :)

-

so... how did it go! | join the server!

a/n: so. here we are, over two years and 250k+ words later. thank you for sticking with me if you're still here, and thank you for being the most amazing readers a writer could ever, ever ask for. if you can interact or let me know what you enjoyed/like, i would be eternally grateful. these two parts took all of me, and i'm gonna take a break for a little bit before starting on the next part. a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! things have really weighed on me for awhile, which prevented me from working on this part forreal. but my mental feels a lot lighter now, and i am ready to keep running with y'all. so thank you for your support and encouragement, no matter how you show it! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[dollfacefantasy]

Restless Dreams

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets home late after another hard day at work to you having some extra sweet dreams.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, wet dream

word count: 3.6k

a/n: hey everyone!! hope you all enjoy this :) i guess i've been into soft leon with somno lately idk LOL. i was kind of tired myself when writing/editing this, so forgive any errors pretty please. new divider from here. thank you for any comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

“So what time do you think you’re gonna get here?” you ask before blowing on the drying polish that coats your nails.

“My shift finishes up at 12, and then I gotta file some reports. I’ll probably be done at 1, so not too long after that,” Leon explains through the phone. Despite his attempt to lay it out for you, there’s still a pause, one he came to recognize as your reaction of displeasure. A smile plays on his lips. “But you know the real answer is as soon as I can.”

You look down at your phone on your vanity, a pout forming on your face. Obviously, it wasn’t his fault he had to work so much now. He’d warned you when he started at the police station a few months ago, but it didn’t prepare you for how much you’d miss him.

It made you feel dumb, that nagging, achy feeling of longing in your chest. It wasn’t like he was off to war or something. You still saw him almost everyday. But more and more of his time was consumed by work now. Even when he was with you, he was often exhausted. 

Sometimes all you could think about his new job was that he was your boyfriend, not theirs. You’d mentally scold yourself for being so immature when that happened, but the sentiment still lingered in your head.

“Ok…” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. He hears the dejection in your tone though.

“Baby,” he coos in that voice that sent warmth through your spine and got you to agree with everything he said, “You know I’d rather be with you. I’m just new and have to take the time to learn. Plus, with the caseload and the number of officers here, they need me at the station.”

“I need you more,” you say. You try to pass it off as playfulness, but it comes from real feelings. Your heart was beginning to tense with resentment for the RPD for taking him away so much. You knew the job meant a lot to him though which is why you would never unleash your admittedly petty frustrations.

A low laugh leaves him, and you can hear that loving smirk on his face as his voice comes through your phone’s speaker.

“Do you now? You’re really missing me that much?” he teases, leaning back in the driver’s seat of his cruiser. 

He knew that you did in fact miss him that much. And even though, since starting at the police station, he tried to project the image of a tough guy, he missed you just as much. That’s why he started calling you during lulls in his shift.

“Mhm. It’s not fair. It’s like I’m sharing you with the station. And I don’t like sharing,” you say with an exaggerated huff.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” he chuckles. He sighs happily, checking the time to calculate how much time was left before he could have you in his arms again. “But not much longer, baby. Then you get me all to yourself for the whole weekend.”

“I better,” you grumble with a smile.

“I promise you will,” he says genuinely. A light on his dashboard flickers, alerting him that his attention is needed elsewhere. “Just don’t stay up too late waiting for me tonight, ok? Your rest is important.”

“Seeing you is more important,” you respond.

“I know, but I prefer my girl when she’s not all cranky and sleep deprived. So try tonight, sweetheart. For me?” he asks.

“I guess,” you concede. Your heart already aches, knowing he’s about to hang up.

“I love you, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too,” you tell him before he disconnects the call.

The silence that falls over your room makes it feel even more empty. You tap the glass screen of your phone, scanning for the time before you finish getting ready for bed. Your mouth curves downward when the numbers light up on the screen.

Only 10:30. Too much time till you’ll hear him come through your front door, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You haphazardly go through the rest of your routine before dragging yourself over to your bed and getting in.

Sliding between the soft pink sheets, you flop down against your pillow and stare at the ceiling as you contemplate how to kill the time. Nothing grabs your interest because none of it’s him. It’s all just filler.

And worst of all, you were starting to feel sleepy. You wanted to wait up for Leon so badly, but you also went through a whole day of your own that tired you out. Plus, your bed was just so comfy with your plush blankets and full pillows, stuffed animals and frilly decorative cushions scattered on one side.

Thinking it would help to keep your eyes actively focused on something, you try to read. Your eyes scan over the words, and it isn’t long before you realize you’d made a horrible mistake. Moving your eyes along the page only made them more drowsy.

Next you turn on the tv and put on something you didn’t really have to pay attention to. But the soft glow of the tv casts across you and the low chatter of the characters becomes background noise, making it even harder for you to keep your eyes open.

You lazily reach across your bed and grab the bunny stuffie Leon had bought for you a few weeks prior. Tucking it beneath your chin and close to your chest, your drooping eyes fall shut and your breaths become soft and even. Barely any time has gone by before you’re sinking into slumber.

Leon glances down at his phone, the small numbers illuminating 2:04 in the darkness of the hallway. He enters your place with the key you gave him and shuts the door as quietly as possible. He knows you’re sleeping from seeing the dark bedroom. Already feeling guilty for taking longer than he’d expected, he didn’t want to add to that feeling by waking you up.

He makes his way to your room, padding silently down the hall. Once he reaches the door, he pushes it open with almost no force in an attempt to avoid even the slightest creak. You’re where he expected you to be, curled up in your bed, completely peaceful as you slept. He knew he probably looked like a little lovesick puppy right about now, eager to hop into bed and snuggle up to your side, but he didn’t care.

It takes him no time to shed his police uniform. He makes quick work of unlacing his boots and kicking them off. His pants and shirt crumple up at the foot of your bed next to his belt and socks. Finally, once he’s got on a pair of sweatpants he kept at your place, he climbs into bed with you.

He shoves your stuffies and extra pillows out of his way with a playful roll of his eyes and gets as close to you as he can. His arm drapes over you, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, planting a few kisses on the base of your head. You smelled so good, felt so soft, perfect to come home to.

His body melts into the mattress, and he’s ready to give into his own urges to sleep. That is until he notices you’re not as peaceful as you appeared from the doorway. His eyebrows raise as he feels your legs squirming. Restless movements from your feet beneath the covers and your thighs shifting aimlessly against each other.

He’s ready to brush it off at first. ‘Must just be having some wild dreams,’ he thinks with another kiss to your head. But then he hears the faintest sound, so quiet that he probably would have missed it had he been focused on anything else. It’s a whimper. A gentle, tender squeak that slips from between your lips into the cool air of your bedroom.

Now, his face conveys his concern. He worries you’re having a nightmare. That at any moment you’ll wake up with tears in your eyes and your heart pounding out of your chest. Immediately, he begins stroking your arm, kissing your temple, murmuring “It’s ok, baby. I’m here.”

But you make that little noise again, and this time it paints a different picture in Leon’s head. This whimper didn’t sound scared or stressed, like you were crying out for his protection. No, this sound brought to mind images of you writhing beneath him, nails marking his biceps with small crescents as he pumped himself in and out of you.

He shakes his head because that couldn’t be it. That’s just his horny mind creating things that aren’t there from being so pent up.

At least that’s what he tells himself until you make the noise again. It brings the same memories up, but this time he’s even more sure of it. He lifts his head off of yours to look down at you and try to figure out what to do next.

You look so cute, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted. As he brushes some hair from your face, he notices your fingers clutching your stuffed rabbit a little tighter. Your breath hitches for a moment before you let out a soft, sleepy whine of his name.

It’s unmistakable now what’s going on. He smirks and traces a finger over your lips. The pad of his index finger drags on your bottom lip slightly, turning your mouth into that pout he loved so much. He leans and kisses your cheek as you whine again.

“Please.”

He chuckles at how needy you sound even in your sleep, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your shorts.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your panties. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit. Clearly, this dream was a pretty good one.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

In your dreams, Leon was doing a lot more than rubbing you with his fingers. After you had fallen asleep, it felt like no time had passed. All of the sudden you were just on the table in your dining room, spread out for his rapture. 

You didn’t realize you were dreaming, everything felt so real. To you, he was really there, looking down at you with those loving yet lecherous eyes. Hands roaming your exposed body, lips caressing your skin all over. Everything seemed light and airy while also feeling heavy and thick. Your head, filled with clouds, slipped in and out of the moment. The sensation of him rutting his cock between your thighs and sliding inside of you was your reality at the moment.

In actual reality, Leon continues to move his fingers slowly, swiping them over your entrance and taking them back up to circle your clit. You mewl when he applies some pressure, sending sparks through you. Your squirming becomes more motivated, and he can tell your drifting away from your restful sleep back toward consciousness.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You hear his voice in your dreams. The deep rumble enters your ears as you envision his hips pistoning into your wanting cunt. You mumble something in response, but he can’t understand the sleepy babbling. He rubs your clit a little harder with some more speed. You twitch in response, yet your eyes remain closed.

“I know, baby. I know it feels so good,” he coos and kisses behind your ear.

More incoherent words fall from your mouth. He sucks love bites into your neck, and you tilt your head back, craving more of that feeling. The dream version of him began mimicking the actions of the real Leon as you neared waking.

Whining louder, your fingers dig into the smooth fur of your plush bunny before letting it go. He nips at the sensitive skin of your throat as his fingers travel down and push inside your heat.

The feeling rips a moan from you and causes your eyes to open. Your back arches as he works them deeper. Your hips wriggle a little as you make sense of what’s happening.

“Leon?” you whimper. Your sleepy eyes struggle to stay open after being torn from the fog of sleep.

“That’s right, baby. It’s just me. You were having some nice dreams, weren’t you, pretty girl?” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum mindlessly.

“About me?” he teases, eyes watching your body fidget with the pleasure you felt.

“About you,” you confirm before he leans down and kisses your lips. They were so soft against his own. He slowly moves his mouth with yours and languidly slides his tongue against yours.

You moan into the kiss as his fingers curl within you and hit your favorite spot. Your feet lightly kick at the sensation. Your hips rise a little as you feel the flood gates holding your release about to break.

You’re too sleepy to tell him out right, but he knows the signs. He keeps working you there until your body seizes and arches off the bed. You let out a throaty moan and turn your head to bury your face against his shoulder.

“There you go. Let it all out, sweetheart,” he whispers and kisses your head.

You ride out the high on his hand, and by the time you’re done, you’re ready to fall asleep again. Your mind is hazy with the fog of release. You’re drifting off as your body settles without even realizing it.

You’re only yanked back to reality by Leon scooping you up into his lap. He’s sitting with his back to the headboard, and he situates you between his thighs, back against his chest. His arms keep you caged in nice and close, safe and warm.

“Don’t fall asleep again just yet, babydoll,” he murmurs while kissing up your neck.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder. The fight to stay awake gets a little easier as his hand returns to your soaked panties. He doesn’t tease this time, just slides in two fingers and starts moving them in and out.

The new angle makes you squirm and whine, but he holds you tight in place with his free arm.

“Gotta work you open, honey. Can’t just slide my dick in you with no warm up,” he says with a smirk.

His voice pulls you towards lucidity a little more. Your hands wrap around his free arm for support while your hips instinctively roll into his blissful touch.

“I missed you,” you choke out between gasps and whimpers.

“I know you did,” he teases, grinning against your throat. His cock throbs against the small of your back as his ears latch onto the sound of your slick around his fingers. “Came home to cuddle with my sweet girl, and I find her having such dirty dreams.”

Your cheeks heat up as you start to piece together what had happened. You fully realize now that your escapade on the kitchen table was entirely in your mind. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the feeling dies pretty quick as you rapidly approach the edge for a second time.

“Not my fault,” you whimper shyly.

He chuckles and kisses your temple once more. “I know it’s not. If anything, it’s mine. I think I’ve been neglecting my baby,” he says with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

“Good girl,” he coos, “That’s it, just one more and then I can put you to sleep how you deserve.”

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Leon lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how his training had been paying off. Maybe this new job wasn’t all bad.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

“So wet. I can just slide right in,” he mumbles as his own hips twitch.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

He follows along and rests his face against your neck as he begins thrusting. You hear him panting right in your ear. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there’ll be marks.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

You nod lazily as you continue to clamp down around him. After two releases, you didn’t even feel a building ecstasy anymore, just a constant stream of pleasure.

“Leon,” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

“Wanna be sore after, don’t you, sweetheart? Want a reminder of me while I’m at work. Something to tide you over till I can do this again. Won’t have to rely on dreams then, right?” he says.

“Yeah,” you whimper. Your bed creaks as he picks up the pace, but your moans mask the sound as they grow in volume.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Ready for another one, honey? Gonna be the last one and then we’ll get you comfy and off to sleep.”

“Yeah,” you moan again, unable to say much else.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

“So sweet to me, baby. I hope that made up for the late night,” he whispers and strokes your hair.

“It did,” you say with a nod. Your eyes were already shutting again, ready to go back to sleep after being fucked so good.

He looks at you with all the love in the world as he pulls his sweats up. He then helps you pull your panties and shirt back on, trying to laugh at your sleepy, half-assed movements.

After that, he gets you all tucked in next to him, snuggled up in his arms like he originally intended. He even grabs that stuffed bunny he got you and fits it close to you in case you want it.

“Get some rest, honey. You need it,” he whispers while rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you respond tiredly, “You too. You’re all mine for the weekend, and I don’t want you tired out the whole time.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be tired out if we do some more of that again tomorrow,” he jokes. He pulls you close to him and shuts his eyes, nestling his head against yours and settling in to rest.

That puts a smile on your face and you nuzzle him once more before letting yourself fall asleep for the night.

[lovebugism]

hiii can i pls request shy!reader where eddie teaches her guitar but she keeps getting distracted by her crush on him and then they confess to each other 🥰 idk I'm just obsessed with eddie and guitars in general haha

ty for requesting!! — in which eddie calls his two favorite things sweetheart, his guitar and you (friends to lovers, fluff, 1.7k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Eddie’s bedroom is heavy with an early summer heat. There’s one square window above his bed where the golden hour sun filters through directly. It spotlights the guitar hanging above his dresser, sparkling with bits of swirling dust in the air. 

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” Eddie greets the instrument, as though it were a real thing with feelings. You idle behind him and watch in the mirror as he kisses two of his fingers and presses them to the strings. A crooked smirk sits lazily on his mouth at the graceless sound it makes.

“Is that its name?” you joke in a mousy voice, clammy hands wringing as thoughts of nonbelonging strangle you. You feel utterly out of place here, in this mess of boyish chaos — with heavy metal posters of bands you don’t know and movie prints with references you don’t recognize. 

The boy standing beneath it all turns to face you. He looks at you with the smile he always looks at you with — distant, pink, and quiet — like he doesn’t even know it’s there. And you feel at home all over again.

“Huh?” Eddie chuckles.

“Sweetheart,” you add.

“Sure,” he shrugs, scratching at the wild curls coiled at the nape of his neck. Another laugh sputters from his smiling mouth. “Might as well be, I guess. I’ve been callin’ her that since I got her.”

“Oh… It’s a she now, too?”

There’s a foreign twinkle in your sheepish gaze. A mischievous sort of glint Eddie only gets to see when you’re feeling brave enough to show it to him — comfortable enough, anyway. It makes his chest warm with pride, knowing he’s cracking away at the shell you so often hide behind.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie cajoles, nodding as he scrunches the bridge of his nose. With his hands on his leans hips, he walks the short distance to you. His sneakers sound heavy on the worn carpet. “She’s got all the features of a beautiful woman, too, you know? Strong but delicate. Easy to understand when you get to know her, but always slightly complicated in her own way.”

You forget to blink until he’s looming over you. Until his towering form blocks the flow of the tiny fan whirring on his desk. Until you can smell the pine of his cologne and the mint of his aftershave with every trembling inhale.

The petaled smirk on his rosy mouth makes your breath catch. His dark eyes are round like buttons, and they glimmer like melted chocolate as he peers down at you — like he’s talking to you directly. 

You feel utterly see-through beneath his unwavering stare. With your heart in your throat, you turn away. “Well, you’d know better than me, I guess,” you falter, voice trembling as you force a breathy laugh. 

Eddie doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by the proximity. His eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “Wanna learn how to play?”

You flash him a wide-eyed stare in response. A distant smile wavers at the edges of your mouth ‘cause you figure he must be joking. Eddie only grins in response, raising his brows in an expectant look, and you cower all over again.

“Oh, I… I don’t… I don’t know,” you stammer hopelessly and twist your anxious hands into a knot. “I don’t think I have, you know, the— the deftness for it or whatever…”

Eddie scoffs a faint laugh and steps back from you. He plucks the instrument from the wall in a few short steps. “Well, how about we just pretend I know what that word means while I teach you?” he jokes with the guitar cradled in an expert hand. 

His rings match the silver strings and the metal dials you don’t recognize. The black paint pairs well with his leather jacket, and the cracked scarlet pattern with his Hellfire tee. It looks like it was crafted with only him in mind. 

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he plops along the edge of it.

You shift on your feet in front of him, visibly unsure. “I don’t wanna break it,” you fret.

“You’re not gonna break it,” Eddie laughs with a smile that reveals all his teeth. He tosses his chin back to shake wild curls from his face, then squints solemnly at you. “Unless you’ve got, like, some kinda super-strength I don’t know about… You’re not a superhero, are you?”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder in a sheepish look. “I can neither confirm nor deny,” you answer in a sarcastic murmur.

“Hm. That’s exactly what a superhero would say…” he teases, just to make you laugh, then smiles as he pats the bed beside him. “Here. C’mon. Sit down.”

Despite your better judgment, you sit in the spare spot next to him. The mattress is hard beneath you, worsened by your inability to get comfortable with Eddie’s body so close to yours. It makes you tense, so aware of yourself and him and this moment.

You keep a couple measured inches between you, which Eddie closes with little effort. His thigh presses to your thigh as he ushers the guitar into your lap. He maneuvers himself behind you, with an arm wormed around your back, so he’s got your left hand in his. His chest is flush against your shoulder. His wild curls tickle your neck. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Put your hands… like this…” Eddie mumbles as he guides your fingers over the neck of the guitar. When he’s set them in a stair-step pattern over the strings, he ducks his head to look at you. His wide eyes dart over your face. “That feel good?”

You nod wordlessly, skin buzzing under his touch.

“Good. Now, all you have to do is strum.”

You lift your wrist and hope he doesn’t notice how your hand shakes. Your fingers brush the steel strings. A quiet, distorted noise fills the quiet bedroom. 

Eddie grins wide despite your feeble attempt. “See? You’ve already got the hardest part down,” he beams. When you don’t laugh at his futile effort to make you laugh, his smile wavers. “Hey… You can relax, you know? Sweetheart’s not gonna bite you.”

“No, I know,” you waver, then remember to breathe.

“Then why’s it feel like I’m sittin’ next to a rock?”

“‘Cause this is, like, your most prized possession,” you laugh. “And I’m… the clumsiest person on the earth, and you’re letting me touch it anyway.”

“‘Cause you’re my second most prized possession,” Eddie quips.

You meet his smile with a knowing squint. “You don’t own me, Eds.”

His eyes narrow similarly. “Don’t act like you’re not flattered.” 

His breath fans across your cheek at the proximity. A dizzying concoction of nicotine and spearmint gum. Your eyes flit to his lips, for a flicker of a moment, and you realize he’s close now enough to kiss. 

Something about it makes you panic. Words spill from your mouth in stumbled rambles accordingly. “I just— I know I’m not gonna be any good at it, and it’s just gonna be a huge waste of time for both of us, so—”

Eddie scoffs. “If you don’t wanna spend time with me, you coulda just said.”

The mattress squeaks when he starts to shift away from you. His chest moves off your shoulder and leaves you cold, even in the suffocating humidity. Your heart wrenches. “It’s not that— don’t go,” you plead in a tiny voice.

Eddie, who hadn’t really wanted to leave in the first place, gravitates to you again with little effort. “So you do wanna spend time with me?” he wonders, equal parts teasing and searching for assurance.

You swallow hard, then nod.

“Just, maybe, without the guitar?” Eddie presses.

“I think we’d both be better off if I just watched you play it, honestly.”

“Ooh,” the boy croons, brows bouncing beneath his fluffy bangs. “So you like to watch, huh?”

Your eyes roll. “Don’t be daft.”

Eddie laughs and presses himself against you again — chest against your back, arm against your arm. “Here. C’mon. Just try again, alright? For me.” You let him guide your hand back to the neck of the guitar. His warm, ringed fingers cradle your own. “Put your fingers like— there you go. Look at that, you’re a pro already.”

He tries to bite back a smile at the look you give him. He fails.

“Alright, now…” he trails off, shifting impossibly closer until he’s flush with the right side of your body. “Try not to be so scared, alright? Sweetheart can sense fear, so just… Act natural.”

You exhale a wavering breath. When Eddie feels you relax against him, he tells you, “Now strum again…”

You twist your wrist and bring your fingers down in a motion that feels more natural this time. The sound that fills the bedroom, then, is much more pleasant than the one that came before it.

“At this rate, you’ll be better than me within the year,” Eddie muses.

You squint and try not to smile. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m serious!” he argues, laughing despite himself. “You’re a fast learner! With some proper lessons, you could do my Master of Puppets solo in no time— with your eyes closed.”

“Lessons?” you echo, brows pinched.

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs and tries to play it cool. “I mean… You might have to come over from time to time. You know, so I can show you the ropes and everything, but… After a few months together, I’m sure you’ll be a total professional.”

You know exactly what he’s playing at. The notion makes your heart thrum hard against your ribcage.

“Well, what about after a few months?” you tease with a quiet smile. “What then?”

Eddie’s eyes flit to the ceiling for a moment as he ponders the question. “I don’t know… You keep coming around, I guess? And I make you the best damn guitarist this side of Indiana’s ever seen?”

A beam blossoms on your lips despite your attempts to keep it hidden. “Then I guess I’ll stick around.”

“Good,” Eddie grins.

“Good,” you parrot.

It takes you a second too long to realize he’s leaning in to kiss you. By the time you notice, his eyes are already fluttering shut and the tip of his nose is nearing yours. Your eyes widen. Your breath catches. You lick your lips in anticipation. 

You forget yourself too quickly, though, and your hand falls lazily against the strings of the guitar in your lap. You can feel the funny, distorted sound in your chest. Your heart lurches at the sudden noise, and you flinch back from the boy in front of you.

You sigh a second later, mourning the missed moment. 

Eddie chuckles to himself, cheeks flushed. “Told ya she could sense fear.”

[vxnuslogy]

— lost to time ft. sae itoshi

— warnings: angst, character death, slight ooc?

— author's note: a reupload of my favorite work on sae while i finish editing the next 2 chapters of my hazbin series. enjoy!

— first recording

“hi sae! i heard from rin that you’ll be leaving for spain. i’m really sorry i couldn’t come to see you off, i’ve been busy studying, you know, for exams and stuff. but that’s beside the point! i wish you all the best sae! do your best and when you come back home, you better be the world’s best striker yeah? don’t worry, everything will pass by quickly so don’t miss me too much ok?”

sae hated planes. he hated them quite a lot. in was a constant reminder of that time when he was only 14, leaving home to go to spain to live out his dreams only for it to be crushed 4 years later. sae hated the airport, it was always so busy and so stuffy and so cramped. he hated the feeling of being surrounded by unfamiliar strangers, hated the feeling of people brushing up against him even if they didn’t really mean it. sae hated winter. it was the season he severed his bond with his precious little brother after all. it was the season he turned his back on him and it was the season he had wished to never relive again.

-

— second recording

“hey hey guess who’s sending you another voice message? it’s me obviously, why didn’t you tell me you were back already?! if you did i would’ve picked you up from the airport!

……

is something the matter sae? you haven’t picked up any of your parents’ calls and their really worried about you. you can always talk to me remember? i’ll always be here to listen, ok? don’t bottle everything up, it’ll do more bad than good. well, i have to go now. talk with your parents every once in a while will you? ever since you left for spain you’ve pretty much cut off all contact, even with me. that’s all, good night sae.”

sae didn’t really like flowers. he thought they were a hassle. plants that require specific needs and if not met, they’ll wilt. sae was never fond of them but here he was, standing in front of the counter of a local flower shop as the elderly shopkeeper wrapped a bouquet – filled with carnations, gardenias, lilies, roses, and chrysanthemums. 

everything passes.

— college; third recordings

“i got into my dream college sae! can you believe that! honestly, i was really nervous when i took the entrance exams, but thankfully i studied real hard and managed to pass! i’ll be moving into the dorms soon. i’m gonna miss home. oh and rin! i heard he got into a soccer program recently, isn’t that nice! he’s following your footsteps in becoming the best striker in the world. i know, i know, you aren’t a striker anymore but it’s still nice to know that you’re still into soccer at least. by the way, when will you come back home? i kind of miss you, you know. i never got to see you off and when you did come back i was out of town and really busy. what about we plan a meetup or something in the near future? you know, make up for the times we lost? oh, i have to go now! my parents are helping me move in to my dorm. catch you later sae!”

sae didn’t really like coming home. the house he grew up in for the first 14 years of his life felt too foreign to be called home anymore. his parents felt like distant strangers that he just met a couple weeks ago – they felt more like acquaintances than his mother and father. the photos framed around his home felt like ancient relics from thousands of years ago, he didn’t recognize them. sae didn’t recognize himself. 

maybe he spent too much time in spain to the point where it felt more like home. how ironic, he began to realize. he had flown back to japan to escape from his hell that was spain but here he was, in his home, in the bedroom he used to sleep in for endless nights, wanting to go back to the place that left his heart hollow.

“there’s nothing else i could do.” he tried to convince himself as he sat down on his childhood bed, the bouquet of flowers at his side. he could only sigh and let himself fall back into the bed of his long gone home. “everything passes.”

“hey hey hey it’s me again! how have you been sae? i’d like to think that i’ve adjusted pretty well in college. made a few new friends and met some old ones. honestly, i almost didn’t recognize them! i mean, do you remember makoto from middle school. he was a such a problem child back then and now look at him! he’s a scholar now! i guess everyone just starts to become more mature after hitting 18, who knows. thank you again, for the gift. i was definitely shocked when my roommate told me i had a package from you. i can’t believe you still remember that i wanted ‘no longer human’! thank you, i’ll be sure to treasure it. well, that’s all for today. call you some other time sae!”

everything passes.

-

— drunk recordings; the words i wish i could’ve told you sooner

“how do you work this again? ah got it! hehe, hi again sae! i’m at a party right now, man maybe you were right, i do have shit alcohol tolerance. but it’s fine. don’t worry, i’m already on my way home and the driver isn’t some creepy dude that might kill me.

……

you know, i like you very much but i don’t think you’ll believe me. i know i jokingly said that we should marry each other if we aren’t dating someone if we hit our 30s, but i kinda wanna marry you even if we aren’t 30 yet. is that weird? i really miss you. please come home.”

……

“hello? god that was so embarrassing… sorry, could you just forget about what i said in the last recording? um just, gosh i don’t even know. denying it won’t really help right haha… it’s in the past now so don’t mull over too much ok? please, just disregard that last recording. i’m really sorry, it was just me being drunk.”

sae did not in fact disregard that recording. in fact, sometimes in the dead of night he’d think about it and wonder, if he had replied to that specific recording would things have ended differently? 

sae didn’t like deep and evoking questions about ‘what if’s’, he finds them annoying most of the time. and yet here he was now entertaining the idea. bouquet in hand as he casually walked around the neighborhood that the both of you had grew up in. the same twists and turns, same houses, same playground, same everything.

yet the silence was too loud, even for him.

everything passes.

-

— graduation recordings

“well, i think it’s safe to say i survived. i graduated sae, are you proud? man i still can’t believe i was a few point from getting the valedictorian spot but oh well. alls well that ends well i suppose. i heard you won your recent match congratulations mr best midfielder! kinda wish i was there to see it, but don’t worry! in your next match i’ll definitely save up enough money and buy those tickets to spain and your match one day! just you wait, i’ll be the screaming my lungs out and support you, i’m still your number one fan after all!”

sae had some feelings of dissatisfaction when you did not in fact get those tickets to spain and his match. maybe it was his wishful thinking but he really did wish you were there. but he knew it was impossible. 

he remembered the feeling of anger and frustration running through his veins, cursing the heavens above because he felt the need to show the gods his emotions. sae hated thinking about you in that moment. he hated how he felt like he was in a new version of hell whenever you just happened to cross his mind. sae hated you very much.

everything passes.

-

— recordings from 2 years ago

“i’m sorry. i know you should’ve heard it from me but i guess my family beat me to it haha. to be perfectly honest with you sae, i had no plans of telling you. i’m sorry. its just, the thought of breaking the news to you. how could i ever do that to you? i’m sorry. god i’m so sorry sae.”

……

“hey. i received the gift you sent me. you didn’t have to , you know. now i kinda feel bad about having you go on break in the middle of soccer season because of me. but still, thank you. i appreciated you being here, with me. it was a refreshing feeling, talking to you again and just hanging out. work has been really stuffy and felt like i was being caged but you came. you suddenly appeared and suddenly everything was alright again. i know we only said goodbye a couple minutes ago but, i miss you already. sorry. this sounds really weird doesn’t it? anyways, thank you again for the gift. i’ll be sure to wear it everyday. that’s all, have a good night sae.”

……

“hey. sorry for calling at such an odd time. i just. i just felt a little lonely. i sound so stupid i’m sorry. good night sae.”

……

“makoto dropped by today. god he was as annoying as ever but he really cheered me up. he managed to confess to this girl he’s pining over since sophomore year. i’m happy for him. but it really got me thinking about us. i know i told you to forget about that one recording because i was drunk but now that i look back on it, i wasn’t really honest. to you and myself. i know this may be the worst timing to confess but yeah, i like you very much. since primary school, as cliche as it may sound i think it all started when you stood up for me from those bullies. now that i think about, i practically glued myself to your side ever since that day didn’t i? i’m glad you didn’t really mind that. i remember always using homework as an excuse to always have you hang out with me even though i completely understood the lesson. man, where did i get the confidence to do that stuff? but i guess those times are lost in the sands of the past i guess. oh right, sorry, i forgot you didn’t really like those type of stuff. getting all deep and whatnot. well that’s all, i’m getting pretty tired already so i’ll head to bed. good night sae.”

everything passes.

-

— present

“hi. thank you by the way. i don’t know, i just don’t think i’ve ever said that you recently. so, thank you. its a bit funny isn’t it? i would almost always talk your ear off every recording but this time, i can’t even find the words to say. my parents came over, talked to them a bit. rin visited as well. he’s gotten a lot taller than i last saw him, he’s probably taller than you now!

……

sae, thank you. for everything. i’m glad we stayed in touch. i’m glad we stayed as friends.  thank you for making my days seem just a tad bit brighter, though sometimes i wonder what it would be like if we were, you know, dating. wonder what the difference would be. i mean we’d still talk to each other right? maybe holding hands and kisses but that’s pretty much it right? but thinking about it is useless right now. maybe in an alternate universe were actually married and adopted a cat like how we used to talk about.”

“you know, before this very moment. i accepted my fate already. i was content, i was doing fine but now. sae, i don’t want to die.”

“please remember me ok? and i’ll be sure to remember you. i’ll see you again, sae.”

“nii-chan..”

sae could only put his phone back in his pocket. his younger brother standing a good distance away from him. he could only imagine how rin looked like right now. was he pitying him, grieving with him? he’ll never know because he will never turn to look at him. not when your right in front of him.

how many times had he played all your recordings for the past 2 years? maybe a little over a 100 times? maybe close to 200 now?

sae removed all those thoughts as he placed the bouquet on the ground, the wind seemed to answer to his call – you seemed to answer to his call. despite all the pain, all the misery, all the bitter waves of grief that flooded his being whenever he played your recordings, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. he didn’t want to forget what you sounded like. your voice reminded him too much of home.

“happy birthday you idiot.” he said to you, keeping his hands in his pockets, watching the leaves of the flowers in the bouquet sway with the wind. two pieces of paper underneath it threatened to be blown away. “you said you wanted to come visit me and watch my match, well now you can.” two pieces of paper, one a plane ticket to spain the other a ticket to his upcoming match two weeks from now. “you better come watch me alright?” he could only bitterly smile. 

“you’re 30 now,” he whispered, before getting on one knee. placing a velvet box in front of your gravestone. “you should’ve waited for me, you idiot.” sae could only mutter those words to no one in particular. it was as if the world had stopped for a moment, the wind had stopped howling, the sun was nowhere to be seen. he could only see you. “i wanted to marry you too, y’know.”

sae could remember every occurrence where he would sit at his balcony in spain every night after your passing. phone to his ear, listening to all your recordings. but you’ll never know how he replies to them, every single one of them with his own. 

“i told the stars about you and what we could’ve had.” he chuckled, “you’re by far the hardest lesson i had to learn.”

standing up from his kneeling position, he gave you one last look before walking away. rin followed suit, but not before placing something at your grave. a pink book that you had loved till the very end. 

sae hated planes, but he flew back to japan every year. sae didn’t really like flowers, but every year he’d get you a pretty bouquet. sae didn’t like coming home but if it meant getting to visit you, he’d come back over and over again. sae didn’t like reading or any deep and evoking questions but he always humored you whenever you asked him.

sae hated all those things but they reminded him too much of you to let them go. 

and just like your favorite author, when osamu dazai asked to die, he simplu agreed; but just before his death, he suddenly felt obsession with life.

everything passes. just like how you’ll eventually get lost in the sands of time.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[gigabyte-flare]

Insatiable (Part 1)

Summary: You are a researcher for D.S.O. who is responsible for studying Leon Kennedy as Las Plagas overtakes him, maybe even finding a cure. He starts to take a liking to you, too much of a liking to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Heavily inspired by this artwork by @chanif-art on Tumblr along with Project Scorpion by @tagzpite. Literally could not get this idea out of my head until I wrote it down. Definitely going to be another series. We're also going to pretend D.S.O. was founded way sooner than 2011 k byeeeeee

“I fought a war and I learned how to win, but how do you fight when the enemy’s within?”

You step out of an elevator led by two armed D.S.O. operatives in tactical gear deep underground at HQ, your white lab coat flowing gently as you walk forward. Grasped in your right hand is a voice recorder. You and the operatives go through a series of heavy steel doors leading you into the bowels of the underground facility.

Is all this really necessary? you think to yourself as you’re led deeper into the abyss.

Finally, you’re brought to a single cell enclosed with clear polycarbonate panels with steel reinforcements. In this cell was a man sitting in a chair that was bolted into the floor, his hands chained behind his back and his legs chained to the legs of the chair. This man is Agent Leon S. Kennedy. You approach one of the panels closest to the steel door keeping him in. 

Switching the voice recorder on and bringing it to your mouth, you state your name before continuing, “The year is 2004. The subject is field agent Leon Scott Kennedy, currently 27 years old and exhibiting the late stages of Las Plagas infestation, his body is covered in dark, vein like marks. Subject is currently slumped over in the chair. He appears to be catatonic.”

Bringing the recorder away from your mouth, you motion to one of the operatives to guard the door. You input a passcode into a key panel next to the door. It lets out a hiss as it slowly swings open. As you step in, the door swings closed and locks.

You bring the recorder back to your mouth and continue, “Agent Kennedy?”

You watch as Leon slowly lifts his head, his face completely covered in the dark veins, his once blue eyes now have a slight red tinge to them, it makes your stomach twist in sorrow, he used to be such a handsome man.

“Subject appears to still have some cognitive ability left as he immediately recognized his name. We’re still trying to understand how he hasn’t broken down now that the alpha Plagas host, Osmund Saddler, has been destroyed--”

“I’m right here, you know,” Leon suddenly spoke, making you jump.

“Ag-Agent Kennedy!” you reply, eyes wide in shock that he’s able to speak. 

“Please, just call me Leon, sweetheart.”

His dark gaze seemed to pierce straight into your very soul. You collect yourself, clearing your throat.

“How are you feeling, Leon?”

Leon looks down at himself, tugging gently at his restraints before looking back up at you, “all things considered, I actually feel pretty damn good.”

“That’s… good, I guess,” you reply, your nervousness clear in your voice. 

You hadn’t prepared for this, every researcher that attempted to interact with him got absolutely nothing out of him, hence why they sent you down. You argued with them, not seeing the point but now you began to realize that the difference was they were all men, you were a woman. 

“Awww… there’s no need to be so nervous, sweetheart, it’s just me, Leon Kennedy. I promise I don’t bite,” he says, a small smirk appearing on his lips, “hard.”

“Do you know where you are and why you’re here, Leon?”

He lets out a chuckle, “yeah, I’m in D.S.O.’s research facility because I’m turning into a monster.”

“That’s putting it rather bluntly, but yes, that’s correct.”

“About time they sent someone cute down here to visit me, the rest were much too dull. If I wasn’t chained up, I’d ask you out to dinner and a movie.”

You feel yourself blushing, “that’s… very kind of you Leon, however that won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name,” he growls, a sinister grin overtaking him.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your eyes widen at him. This wasn’t like Leon at all, the parasite was clearly twisting his thoughts. You panic, turning around to motion the operatives to open the door and let you out. As soon as you’re out of the cell, you briskly walk away from the cell as fast as you can, not once looking back. You could have swore you heard Leon’s laugh echo after you. 

“I am not going back down there, are you insane?!”

“You’re the first person he has actually spoken to since he got back from Spain,” the lead researcher, Bryan said, setting your voice recorder down onto his desk. 

“So? Your point? I’m not doing it and that’s final!”

“Look, this recording gives us valuable data on him, it’s clear that the Plagas inside him is mutating into a more dominant strain. It must know it’s the last one left,” Bryan said, pleading with you.

“So we’re just going to poke and prod him like he’s some guinea pig? Leon wouldn’t have wanted that! Are you sure there’s no way we can cure him?”

“If we attempt to remove the parasite now, it will kill him--”

“Then let’s put him out of his misery, this isn’t right!”

The silence between you was deafening. After a few minutes, Bryan finally spoke.

“Judging by this recording, the Plagas has one thing on its mind.”

“Which is…?”

Bryan looked up at you, letting out a heavy sigh, “reproduction.”

“All the more reason I shouldn’t be going back down there!”

“He’ll be restrained and you’ll have at least two operatives with you at all times, you’ll be safe,” Bryan leans forward on his desk, folding his hands together, “the data you collect from Agent Kennedy is invaluable in finding out how the parasite works, just… go down and talk to him. I know yesterday was unnerving but there is one thing he said that is true, he’s just Leon Kennedy. He’s in there somewhere, even if the Plagas is influencing him.”

You cross your arms, staring at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Bryan, “fine. But I want hazard pay.”

“Consider it done, here’s your recorder back,” Bryan says, sliding the recorder across the desk towards you. 

You grab the recorder of the desk, turning on your heel to walk out of Bryan’s office.

“You are to report down there in an hour, you hear me?” Bryan calls after you just as you walk out the door.

You fight the urge to flip him off, thinking better of it. You walk down the hall into your office, getting your lab coat back on and sitting at your desk. You press play on the recorder, listening back on your interaction with Leon several times. There was one part where you repeated it several times, sending chills down your spine.

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”

How long had Leon been locked down here, chained to this chair? How many men in lab coats came and tried to talk to him? He knew he was a lost cause, why were they keeping him alive? How many times did he wish death would come and take him in his sleep?

But then you came, awakening something in him.

Your natural scent filled the cell completely, so many hours had gone by and he could still smell you and you smelled absolutely divine. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, the way your voice was so sweet yet filled with drive and intelligence. The way you blushed when he flirted with you. The way your heartbeat began to race at just the mere mention of taking you.

God you were so cute when you ran off, all flustered, he couldn’t help but laugh; he hadn’t felt alive like that in so long. His reminiscing was interrupted suddenly when he could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Lifting his head, he practically began to salivate when he saw you had returned.

You came back to me, baby, where you belong…

“The subject appears to be conscious and alert, he watched us as soon as we were in his line of sight,” you say as he watches you speak into the voice recorder. 

With a hiss, the door opens and you step inside. Leon breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you, you smelled even better than you had yesterday. He feels his cock twitch in his pants in excitement. He watches as the door behind you closes and locks, just like it had yesterday, trapping you in here with him.

Curse these fucking chains…

“You’re more lively today, Leon, care to tell me why?” you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion.

“How about you tell me why you smell so nice,” Leon replies, grinning at you, drool running from his mouth down his chin.

He watches you shift uncomfortably before you continue, “I’m not answering that.”

Leon scoffs, shaking his head, “then I’m not going to talk to you, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath, “if I’m going to be honest, I don’t know why I smell so nice to you, Leon.”

His red eyes scan up and down your form, imagining it without all those needless clothes. Imagining himself pinning you to the floor and fucking you stupid. A strange, clicking sound came out of him from the back of his throat as he pulled aggressively on the chains holding him to the chair. He watches as the two men with guns outside become alert. Leon lets out a low growl as he glares at them.

You turn to face the men, signaling to them to stand down. He watches them both relax before you return your attention to him. 

“The transformation appears to be progressing faster than expected,” you say into the recorder, “are you in any pain, Leon?”

Leon slowly shakes his head, “no, just unbelievably horny, doll.”

“We have reason to believe the subject is displaying an increased libido due to the fact that the parasite inside him knows it’s the last of its kind.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, that’s awfully rude.”

“Fine,” you say, lowering the recorder away from your mouth, “what do you want to talk about, Leon?”

“You should ask those nice boys out there to take these chains off me,” Leon purrs, staring at you longingly.

“Absolutely not, Leon,” you reply, crossing your arms, “those chains are there for my safety as well as your own, at least until we can get the Plagas out of your body.” “I think I’m too far gone for that, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, the sorrow clear in your eyes, “I am so sorry that this is what you have become, Leon.”

“I’m not,” Leon says as that sinister grin overtakes him again; he starts to chuckle.

“Leon,” you begin, stepping closer and kneeling down to be eye level with Leon, “I know the real you is in there, somewhere, you have to fight it.”

Your scent was almost enough to drive him crazy, you were delectable. He licks his lips, that clicking sound coming out from this throat again. His eyes are locked on you and he sees you glance down briefly before looking back into his eyes. He knew what you were looking at, you were looking at the noticeable bulge in his cargo pants.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Leon says, his body visibly trembling.

You don’t respond, you simply stare at him with that same sad look in your eyes. How could you not want him as much as he wanted you. His lips curl into a snarl.

“Let me FUCK YOU!” he growls, lunging forward, the bolts in the chair letting out a loud screech as they’re bent slightly.

You stumble back, falling backwards onto the floor as Leon continues to struggle violently. The two men with guns come rushing in, one of them grabbing you off the floor while the other shoots a tranquilizer dart into Leon’s thigh. Leon feels the effects almost instantly, his body becomes limp as he becomes sluggish, his mouth hanging agape as he watches you get led out of the room by the two men, the door shutting and locking behind them as you’re led away.

“Mine,” he whispers in his last moments of consciousness, “all mine.”

Part 2

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: yandere, kidnapping

fem reader

Just had another thought about bully!Bakugou and quirkless childhood friend!darling...

You fall off the grid after high school only to reveal yourself several years later, right in the thick of his career.

He’s been recruited to go on an undercover mission to uncover a major drug scheme. He and a female operative are to play newlyweds, living together in a pretty suburban picket fence house where you'll be conducting surveillance on the neighboring family.

When you walk into the brief, you don’t give any sign of having recognized him. Nor him you, even though his chest and throat tightened to the point he had to stifle a cough.

When you sit down, you’re calm and collected while letting slip a smooth, breathless scoff – giving a slight smirk, saying calmly, “You jokers chose this landmine for a covert mission?”

“You two know each other?”

Your eyes slide off to look at Bakugou, eyeing him up and down where he sits – trying his best to hide it, but your trained eyes see it clear as day – rigid, short-breathed, a little sweaty. He’s shocked, he’s nervous, he’s even a little embarrassed.

You smile. And despite the history, all you offer in answer is a curt, “We used to.”

Bakugou feels like you have him by the balls. His jaw doesn’t unlock during the entirety of the meeting, reading the list of your responsibilities while they’re explained. How the entire neighborhood might be both bugged and surveyed by the target, so you’ll have to perform as a real married couple every waking hour – including eating together, sleeping together, kissing each other, fucking each other so as not to raise any suspicion.

You don’t budge or show any tells. You’ve been trained for this, and you’ve done this type of work plenty of times before already. Bakugou had read your file, so he knew – but shit, how weren’t you uncomfortable?

The mission lasts three long months and seventeen days. And when it’s done, you fall right off the grid again as though none of it had meant a thing.

And he knows that that’s how it’s supposed to be. He knows none of it is supposed to be real, but how can it not have been? It can't have all been a performance. He rejects that. He refuses it. He knows for certain you couldn’t have been acting all that time. You couldn’t because he hadn’t.

He’s breaking so many rules, tracking you down. And your disgust of his unprofessionalism is written all over your face when you open the door to find him having been the one to ring your doorbell. Still, you save saying anything but gesture for him to come inside.

“You weren’t easy to find-”

“This is gross misconduct, Bakugou. I can have you reported.” You cut him off. He’s not heard that voice come out of you. When you were his wife, you’d only speak sweetly – lovingly and dotingly, often with your arms slung around him, your hands in the short stubble at the back of his neck, smiling up at him so prettily.

You were scowling now.

“Are you?” He asks.

You stare at him for a moment, but then you give in with a sigh – trodding off to what he guesses is the kitchen without an answer to his question. But the silence is an answer in and of itself.

You dress differently than you did. No frilly little dress. But sweatpants and a tank – no jewelry, no makeup, hair undone.

You open the fridge and hand him a beer, then you crack one open yourself. “I have something stronger if you need it.” You say then, but he waves a no. So you lean against the counter and bring your can up to your lips. “Why are you here?”

He watches you drink for a moment. When you were his wife, you didn’t like beer, you only drank white wine, and it always made you tipsy after a couple of sips. You would never even finish a glass before becoming slow and dull-eyed. Suppose he’d never actually seen you drunk at all…

He doesn’t open his beer, feeling the cold dew drip over his knuckles. “Do you miss it?” He asks.

You look him in the eyes with slanted ones of your own. “I’m not humoring that question. If you’re having issues, you should file for a shrink. The bureau offers the best, they’ll suck out all the shit from your mind, and you’ll go back to normal within a week or two.”

“I don’t wanna go back to normal.”

You look annoyed, but then your face softens. “It’s like that the first time. It’ll pass.”

He doesn’t believe you. In your file, it said that you’d done this seven times before. Sometimes much longer than the months you’d spent together.

“It was a job, now it’s over. You need to shut the door on it and move on with your life.”

You say that, but looking around your space, it seems your job doesn’t allow much of life to take place. You have a couch and a TV, but otherwise, everything is barren. No pictures on the walls, no decorations. Where a dining table should stand, you have workout equipment instead, sprawled out over the entire floor. And if he saw your fridge correctly, you only have beer and TV dinners.

“You always on the job?” He asks.

You place your finished beer upside down in the sink, letting the last drops dry off while muttering out a retort, “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t hear it, though. Too busy looking at you, standing there against the sink – looking the way you did when you’d wash dishes after dinner. You’re not wearing a summer dress or an apron – but you stand the same way. Slightly bent over, hips pushed into the countertop, ass pushed out like a welcome. 

He sets his beer off on the counter and takes his spot behind you, sliding his bigger hands around your small waist, slotting himself against you with his crotch nudged nicely against your butt. It feels right.

You make a small sound, going a little rigid at the unsuspected attack – but weren’t brash enough to push him away. You were rational enough to accept you wouldn’t be able to if you tried. 

“You sure you don’t miss it?” He asks again in a murmur, brushing his lips up your artery – nuzzling against you – his heavy chest resting against your shoulder blades – and you could feel the equally heavy pounding of his heart.

“Listen, Bakugou… whatever you think you miss, it doesn’t exist.” You state flatly. “Dominic and Suzie aren’t real.”

Those had been your names. Dominic and Suzie, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks. Your identities for three months. But now, no more.

“But they can be…” Bakugou whispered back, tugging you a little closer – then released a small breathless laugh. “We always used to say we’d get married one day, remember? When we were brats…”

A small smile creased a dimple on your cheek at the memory, but only for a small second before you remembered everything he’d put you through after. “We’re not brats anymore. And honestly-” You catch your tongue and never finish the thought. It’s so long ago it doesn’t matter.

You sigh, knowing you’re lying to yourself. 

You relax again and drop your head back to rest on his shoulder, overlapping his hands with yours. “In retrospect, we should have filed for replacement from the start.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You pause a little bit, weighing whether you want to tell him or not. “I felt I had something to prove.” You confess. “You’ve always made me feel worthless, so when I was presented with the opportunity to rub it in your face, the child in me couldn’t resist.” 

You thought it would feel like a victory, a sweet revenge, but in the end, it just made you disappointed in yourself. How could you think playing house with a person you hate would do you any justice?

“It was stupid, and I regret it. I’m better than that.” You add resolutely. “Nevertheless, mission complete. It’s behind us now.”

Bakugou didn’t agree, still holding you the same way he’d done. 

 “You should let go of me.” You sigh again. “I’m not gonna act like Suzie for you, so-”

“I don’t want you to act like Suzie.” He interjected, nuzzling against your neck with a whisper. “I want you... the real you.”

You scoff. “Fuck- Katsuki, look around you. There’s nothing here to want.”

“Let’s make something then.” He argues, pressing a soft kiss below your ear. “It was always supposed to be us two. From the start.”

“What are you talking about?” You won't deny the contact feels good. Good enough to make your voice come out in a moan.

“I’m talking about me and you, anywhere we choose.” He continues with his kisses, and you close your eyes to the feeling but still scoff at the offer. 

“You’re talking about a dream. I’m not leaving my job to chase some fantasy with you.”

There's a silence, and Bakugou’s voice comes out more serious after. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

Your brows furrow, and you open your eyes again.

He still kisses your neck, now with his hands rubbing firm circles in your sides.  

“You were very hard to find…” He mutters. “I doubt anyone would notice if you went missing…”

“Katsuki-” You protest, still calm as you try and push yourself from the counter, but it’s an aimless effort. His touches only grow stronger to keep you in place.

“The bureau would think you’d decided to go private or retire. And given your record, I don’t think they’d spend too many resources trying to find you.”

“Katsuki, let go-” It’s scary, but you’ve been in scarier situations, so you’re able to keep your cool still – despite the chills that run up your spine from his speech. “You’re talking crazy-”

“Living like this is what’s crazy.” He answers.

His apartment looks the same. Nothing personal anywhere except a vain mantle lined with diplomas and trophies he’d received for civic duties when he’d laid his life on the line. Otherwise, it was as stale as a cheap hotel room – no art, no pictures, no carpets, not even a lamp. Just the necessities. Kitchen articles and a bed.

“I need you. And by the looks of things, you need me too.”

[neopuppy]

Bestfriend Jeno who invades readers privacy and goes through her computer filled with videos of ykyk💀

warnings. errrhhmmm🤔 masturbation, yeah..

“Damn, he really did a number on your phone.” Jeno’s fingers drag down the shatter of cracks distorting your screen, neck ticking to the side. “I can definitely fix it though.”

“You can?”

“Yeah, I worked at one of those phone repair kiosks a couple summers ago, these screens cost a fortune to get fixed you know? I have a lot of leftover supplies, can probably find something in my stash that will fit.” He informs, patting your shoulder. “Means you’ll have to be disconnected all day though, is that okay?”

“I guess, have some lectures to get through and a group project to finish so I’ll be at the library most of the day if anything.”

“Alright, write down your passcode and maybe your apple log in just in case.” Jeno nods to a notebook, grabbing a pen to hand you.

“Why the log in?” You hesitate, eyeing your phone nervously.

Jeno shrugs, holding your phone out to you. “I only want to help, I know you’re kind of down on your luck right now. I understand if you want to be around when I fix it but today’s one of my only free days for the rest of the week, so..”

“No no, it’s fine.” You sigh, pushing the phone back toward him. “I might be back late, don’t know how long this meeting with my group will take. If you could leave my phone on DND? I’ll probably still be texting from my laptop.”

“Yeah, not a problem.” Jeno nods to his notebook, smiling as you scribble down your passcode and password. “I’ll get this all fixed up for you, free of charge.”

“I’ll have to repay you somehow..”

“What are friends for?” He laughs, motioning to the living room area scattered with your belongings. “Shit happens..”

“Thanks Jeno, everything you guys have done for me..” trailing off, you murmur shyly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you and Jaemin for helping me out like this.”

“Don’t worry about it, focus on school.”

After bidding you goodbye and good luck with your project, Jeno moves to his bedroom, whistling to himself as he traces down the largest crack on your phone screen. “Gosh, what a dick..”

He didn’t ask what the fight was about, the timing didn’t feel right with you sniffling as he and Jaemin helped you carry your belongings in. He never liked your boyfriend much anyway, or well, ex-boyfriend..

Jeno boiled it down to jealousy at times, whenever he’d have to witness the unfortunate public displays of affection between the two of you. It’s not that he likes you, not necessarily.. but your friendship hadn’t exactly stemmed from genuine interest in forming a platonic relationship. It just so happened that while he had one idea, your mind had already honed in and focused on another.

“Eh, I always knew he wasn’t right for you.” Jeno mumbles to himself, tapping your phone screen to the image of your now ex-boyfriend’s lips squished against your cheek. “Gross.”

Jeno gets to it, unwrapping a new razor to begin removing the old screen topper first and see the real damage. Lucky for you, he’d gifted you a durable screen protector when you’d gotten a new phone. Great for dropping, not so much for a crazy boyfriend hurling it at a wall though.

He’s pleased to see the damage is a lot more minor under the protector, mentally patting himself on the back for handling that for you in the first place. A text pops up lighting the bare screen. “Oh right, do not disturb.”

Jeno taps in the passcode, swiping down to turn off notifications only to come to a pause as another text comes in.

‘It’s easy money, I did it my first year of college to cover rent, and you're shit out of luck at this point if you think a dorm will open up this far into the semester.’

He knows he shouldn’t, but there’s no way you’d find out anyway..

‘Isn’t that prostitution?’

The last text sent from you has his eyes going wide, quickly reading through the chat between you and the name he recognizes as your best friends, the same one whose car Jaemin had found you using as a makeshift home..

‘It’s not illegal in our state, and it’s anonymous. You won’t get caught or anything. Trust me, I worked there for 11 months, best money I’ve ever made.’

Jeno mumbles a ‘what the fuck.’ To himself, opening his phone to copy down the address she sends in next.

‘Besides, what difference does it make? You were getting fucked by your asshole ex on stream for way less.’

“What?!” Jeno looks around in shock, covering his mouth in case someone else is home. An arsenal of unanswered questions race through his mind, swiping to put your phone on ‘do not disturb’ finally as he takes a deep breath to calm down.

“There’s no way..” he chuckles, licking his lips nervously as he taps open your photos and scrolls until a locked album named ‘delete’ catches his eye.

Jeno spent a year learning different ways to break into stolen phones with not even a passcode to assist, the thrill of unknown has his thumb punching away before he can even talk himself out of it. Not that he would..

Why wouldn’t you immediately delete photos or videos you wouldn’t want anyone to see anyway? You can’t be that stupid..

“Oh shit.”

You are that stupid.

Jeno groans, leaning back in his computer chair as he slowly scrolls through the album of over 1000 photos and videos, most consisting of topless shots. More scandalous as he reaches the middle and sucks in a deep breath reading the time on the first video he sees.

Eight minutes and twenty seven seconds..

Patting around for his headphones, he plugs them in and opens the video up to hit play, sinking deeper into his seat as your face appears half-fucked out with dreamy eyes and saliva wet lips.

The deeper familiar voice he recognizes as your ex’s comes through, making his stomach tighten. “Fuck.”

‘How can you ask me for more after I just fucked you full?’

‘Please daddy, n-need more.’

The camera runs down your bare body, laid back against dark sheets with your thighs hoisted up and open; panning down to where white streaks of cum paint your stomach and mound. ‘Feel that? My dicks still so hard.’

‘Keep fucking me, don’t stop fucking me. Fuck that cum deep inside of me.’

Jeno pants, short of breath as he digs the heel of his palm against his groin and groans. Fuck fuck fuck… he knew it. The past few years of having to pretend he valued your friendship more than his desire to fuck you, he always knew you were nothing but a pathetic sobbing whore. The sound of your sobs and aroused whines vibrating through his ears has him ready to make a mess, smoothing in past the waistband of his sweats to free his length, he’s thankful for the point of view shot; making it easy to tune out the masculine grunts passing between your pretty cries.

‘Fuck. I’ll breed you better than that.’ Jeno voices to himself, surprised your lazy ex didn’t make you get on top. The amount of cum covering your lower half has his hips jumping from the chair, eager to fuck into his fist faster.

One thought continues to pass through his mind as he grips around his cock and strokes to match the pace pushing you up and down along the screen.

He needs to fuck you.

[seattlesellie]

don’t cross the line

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol

Parties in Jackson fucking suck.

It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.

“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”

Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.

You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.

“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.

“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”

Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.

Ellie.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.

So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-

“Hey”

You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.

“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”

She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”

Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.

“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.

Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.

Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.

“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.

“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.

One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.

“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.

You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.

“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.

“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”

Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.

You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.

“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.

It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?

“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.

“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?

“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?

“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.

“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.

Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.

“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.

Ellie scoffed.

“Yeah”

You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.

Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.

“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”

“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.

“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.

“Let me walk you” she blurted.

What?

“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.

She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?

“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.

“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.

“No” she exclaimed.

“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”

“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?

“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”

“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.

Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.

She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.

Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.

“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?

“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.

“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.

Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.

“You are”

Step

“So fucking annoying”

This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.

The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.

You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.

You turned around to face her.

Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.

You took a deep breath. She looked cold.

“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.

“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.

“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.

“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.

“Come inside”

"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.

The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.

You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.

Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.

"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.

“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.

“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.

"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”

Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.

“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.

“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.

“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.

“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.

She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.

“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.

“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.

“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.

Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.

“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.

“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.

“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.

Oh, did that sentence burn through you.

“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.

“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.

You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.

“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.

“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.

Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.

That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.

“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?

You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

She took a deep breath.

“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”

The room fell quiet.

“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.

“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.

“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.

“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.

“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.

“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.

“Please” you begged.

That’s all it took.

Almost.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.

“Please” you begged.

Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.

“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.

Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.

Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.

“You dont know…” she whispered.

You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.

“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.

Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.

Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.

She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.

“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.

She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.

“Shit” she huffed.

And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.

Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.

Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.

The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.

your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.

It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.

If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.

Her body gave up on her, too.

She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.

“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.

You wiped your tears.

“I can’t” you whispered.

“Please” she begged.

You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.

“I think about you all the time” you blurted.

She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.

“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.

What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.

You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.

Ellie swallowed deeply.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.

“I need you” you whimpered.

She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.

“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.

“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.

Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.

She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.

You cupped your breast.

Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.

“Holy shit” she wheezed.

“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.

Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.

The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.

Then, you took your shirt off.

And Cat was gone.

Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.

The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.

You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.

The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.

“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.

You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.

Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”

She didn’t need to pretend now.

“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.

You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.

“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.

“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.

“Do it” she commanded.

“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.

The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.

You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.

“Feels so good” you whined.

“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.

“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.

Ellie almost went cross eyed.

“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.

“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.

“Show me how bad - shit”

You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.

You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.

“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.

In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?

“Spread” She commanded.

You looked at her stupidity.

“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.

You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.

“Fucking shit” she grunted.

Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.

“Wider” She commanded.

You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.

“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.

“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.

“Show me that fucking pussy”

You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.

“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.

“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.

“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.

“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.

“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.

With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.

Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.

Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.

You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.

Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.

She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.

You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.

“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.

“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.

You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.

It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.

“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.

Her fucking ex best friend.

“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.

“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”

“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.

The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.

“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.

“Please fuck me, please fuck me”

“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.

“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.

“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”

Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.

When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.

This wasn’t just wrong.

This was vile.

She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.

When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;

“I’m so sorry”

[devswritingcornerorsmth]

overwatch ratings based on how they would date

did this a while ago but spent too much time on it for it to not be posted. this is just a personal opinion and personal ratings based off lore and bias tbh. this will be updated with every hero (if I remember to lol)

Tanks:

D.VA: 6/10. Caring and loving, fun gaming dates, but gets recognized a lot, and if it came down to it she’d choose her job to protect south korea over her lover

Doomfist: 4/10. He’d be a gentleman but probably only in it for sex or to be a sugar daddy. He’d treat his “lover” with respect tho so not a total loss i guess.

Junker Queen: 7/10. After the shit she’s been thru i think she doesnt really want a partner cuz shes afraid they’re just using her to get to the throne or that she’ll lose them. She’s protective and caring but also a bit overprotective to the point where it’s like okay calm down. Also might get into a few fights but eh.

Orisa: 0/10. she thinks it would be cute to be in a relationship but knows she cant be in one due to being the “protector of numbani”. so no.

Ramattra: 8/10. Deadass depends if it’s an omnic or not. If his lover is an omnic he will cherish them and take care of them, knowing that they’re one of the few things he loves in this life. If it’s a human then theres some. Problems. He doesnt open up easily and while he’s still protective and caring he can sometimes get very distant towards them because he fears that they only got close to him to use him or kill him.

Reinhardt: 9/10: Perfect gentleman. Treats you with respect and love, and cherishes you no matter what. -1 is because he can be really loud sometimes even when he doesnt mean to be

Roadhog: 5/10. I think of him as aroace but he would try and give it a shot just to feel what it’s like. Hes very quiet but also very calm. He would listen to his lover and do his best to help them, but he moves around a lot thanks to junkrat now and might cut off communication with you just to keep you safe when he's on the run

Sigma: 5/10. A real gentleman, would treat his lover with respect and kindness and love. Only downside is when he has one of his mind breaks and breakdowns. He forgets who he is and just focuses on violence. Also his control of gravity in that state is very fucky so if he’s having a breakdown his lover might get throw to the ground. He feels like jackshit afterwards and probably realizes it’s best not to have someone he cares about so close to him

Wrecking Ball: 0/10 no. he would simply not even if he wanted to. Aroace hampter 

Winston: maybe a 1/10. i feel like he doesnt want a romantic relationship with anybody and just wants friends (aroace monke)

Zarya: 6/10. Protective and caring but would focus too much on her job. would also pick her country over her lover if it did come down to it

Mauga: 8/10: Would treat his lover right and give them anything they asked for. Free beach house, gifts, and a loving, protective, obsessive bf. -2 because slight yandere vibes and can get too possesive-

Damage:

Ashe: 6/10. Partners in crime kinda thing but if you’re not really into that stuff she’s probably not that into you. She has BOB watching you when she cant during a fight but shes always next to you when she can be.

Bastion: 0/10. Dude just wants to live in the woods with his bird he doesnt want that stuff.

Cassidy: 8/10. Southern sweetheart. Treats his partner with love and respect. Only downside is that he’d be out a lot doing his job, but he would let somebody else do it to be with you if it’s a special occasion or if he really wants to stay with you.

Echo: 2/10. Not big on romance but would try it out for science. Sadly in the end it’s not real love so. Oof

Genji: 9/10. Probably doesn’t want a relationship at first because of his body but he gets used to it and opens up his heart. Honestly very good boyfriend would be there to listen and help you with stuff. -1 cuz he might be out doing overwatch stuff a lot and also might not be the most exciting person to be around if you're a hyper person.

Hanzo: 6/10. Can’t see him getting in a relationship after everything thats happened but if he did he’d be kinda bad at it but you could tell that he’s trying his best.

Junkrat: 5/10. I love him but i cant really see him *staying* in a relationship for long. He doesn’t know how to stop sometimes and can get really annoying really quick but he loves making things for his lover and would do his best to keep them away from the dangerous bombs. He loves them a lot but doesn’t know how to turn the love down. Really clingy so if youre into that cool.

Mei: 9/10. Absolute sweetheart. Loves you to bits and takes you out to her favorite restaurants and stuff. -1 cuz you had to have a long distance relationship due to her being in Antarctica and the fact she slept for years with no communication with her lover-

Phara: 4/10. Cares about her job more but would be an okay girlfriend, doing the basics.

Reaper: 1/10. He’s done with love and would probably just just be a sugar daddy or just be there for sex. Even if he did find himself feeling something he’d ignore it and move on

Sojourn:5/10. Not interested in dating or finding love but if it finds her she’ll go for it. Pretty nice girlfriend, makes sure to take care of her lover but does focus on her job a lot more sometimes.

Soldier:76: 0/10. Not interested and has made sure to break off any past relationships. Doesn’t want the people he cares about to get hurt. So he still cares but doesnt go see them.

Somba: 7/10. Would be a pretty good girlfriend if she wanted to have a relationship. She keeps all people she cares about far away and unaware of her deeds at Talon. So a long distance relationship until she can take some time off to go see her lover and vibe.

Symmetra: 3/10. Doesn’t know how to even start a relationship and doesn’t really want to. Her job is important to her so she wouldn’t want distractions from it.

Torbjorn: 6/10. His wife and him had a few children and have been married for a while so he’s probably got the whole love thing covered.

Tracer: 9/10. Probably one of the best on this list. She’s loving and caring and makes sure to spend a lot of time with her partner. 

Widowmaker: 3/10. Last partner she had was um. killed by her so. +3 if you could break down her walls and see the real her but very low chance

Venture: 8.5/10: Would talk to you about rocks, fossils, and everything else they can think about. They’d even let you name rocks around the house. -2 cuz they’ll talk your ear off about rocks n stuff while also bouncing around everywhere. They can also be gone for long periods of time but always makes sure to call. If you can deal with the infodumping and adhd then 9.5/10 for you 

Support:

Ana: 5/10. She doesn’t want a relationship but she’d be very loving and caring to her lover.

Baptiste: 8/10. Great boyfriend, lovers needs always come first and he’s very open and always has an ear out to listen. -2 because he’s constantly on the run and the relationship could get stressed.

Brigitte: 5/10. Mostly focused on her work but would make a pretty good girlfriend if she finds the right person. The relationship would mostly be a test one because she lowkey doesn’t understand it.

Kiriko: 4/10. Would love to be in a relationship but protecting her home is more important than finding love to her.

Lucio: 9/10. Actual sweetheart. Would make music for you and would cancel shows last second if something came up and you needed something. If you need anything he’ll be there to help.

Mercy: 8/10. She’s really focused on her work but no matter what would take time to come stay with you for a while. -2 because sometimes too focused on work and sometimes doesnt have time to see you for a long time.

Moira: 0/10. Not looking for a relationship and would probably lie just to get you strapped to a table and butchered.

Zenyatta: 7/10. Would make a decent boyfriend but he can’t have relationships due to being a monk. He’d be there to listen and to give advice when you needed it.

Lifeweaver: 9/10. Perfect boyfriend in every way. Like no competition. -1 cuz he's on the run from multiple governments so he won't be able to talk all the time or be with you much to his dismay. multiple texts a day tho

Illari: 4/10. Tbh I can't see her getting into a relationship after everything. She's too scared that something will happen with her powers again and hurt her lover

[yougotthatbilly]

romanée-conti (m)

→ member: jung jaehyun → genre: sugar daddy!jaehyun | slowburn | smut → playlist: alone with you x alina baraz, break the ice x britney spears → word count: 24k → warnings: LEGAL age gap, praise, oral; giving & receiving, unprotected sex (be smart pls), jaehyun likes her head to toe (literally), ‘do/can i call you daddy now?’ jokingly, one real ‘daddy’ (comes with the territory lol), petnames; baby, thumb in butt, probably more ↳summary: Having a sugarless- sugar daddy is proving to be more difficult than planned.

Dark brown eyes resting above prominent eye bags that look like they came from either genetics or lack of sleep—possibly both—are the first thing your eyes zone in on when you approach the table the owner of said eyes is sitting at, waiting for your arrival. As soon as he noticed your presence and looked up from his phone, it was hard to pay attention to anything else. 

Until he smiled. 

The curve of his lips and flash of his teeth are friendly and welcoming, with the slightest hint of shyness, and you truly see that pictures don’t always do people the justice they deserve. Faint crows feet appear due to his smile reaching his eyes, and somehow, they only add onto his appeal.

“Hey,” his gentle, deep voice pushes through your thoughts. He stands and your eyes travel up to follow his face before flashing downward at the sight of his hand being presented to you, and back up to his eyes. “I’m glad you could make it,” he says as he shakes your hand softly, letting go soon after to motion for you to sit across from him with both hands. 

“Me, too,” you softly smile back, setting your purse beside you. 

You finally look away from him to take in your surroundings. When you walked in, you barely paid attention to anything, only having the mind to scan people’s faces until you found one you recognized. Now, after greetings and the initial shock of just how gorgeous this man is, you can take in how this is a pretty nice place; everyone dressed in business casual attire, like this is where businessmen and women come after a long day or week to unwind. Dark, sleek wooden surfaces and furniture paired with deep red decorations that give the place a simple and mature feel.

Taeyong catches your eye from the bar nearby and he quirks a brow in question. You blink once and look away.

“I knew from your photos that you were pretty, but you’re much more beautiful in person,” is said when it’s clear you’re done observing the place. Under the dim, artificial lighting of the overhead lamp above your table, the softest pink flush on his ears is clear as he compliments you, and it leaves you both intrigued and confused.

“And you’re much more handsome,” you compliment right back. There was a fear of him being a catfish or using a picture from when he was younger to reel you and others in, and you’re pleasantly surprised and thankful the man waiting for you is actually the one from the photos. The angles of his face are soft and so are his features; gentle yet mysterious eyes and a pouty bottom lip that’s caught in between his teeth because of your words.

His fingers drum against the wooden tabletop before he pulls his hand into his lap. “Would you like some wine?”

“Sure.”

He raises his hand, pointer finger lazily lifted. In no time a pretty server is at your table, setting wine glasses in front of the both of you. 

“Red or white, sir?” she asks, and you guess he’s a regular here. 

“Whatever she wants.”

Both pairs of eyes land on you and make you blink.

She’s gone and back in the blink of an eye when you choose red, carefully pouring the wine of your choice into the glasses before she disappears again.

“If you don’t like it, let me know and we can get you something else.”

You gently swirl the deep, pretty colored liquid around a few times then sip.

Oh. This is nice.

“How was your day?” he asks.

Long. Extensive. “It was good,” you say instead. “Pretty productive and eventful. How about yours?”

“Productive but not quite eventful,” he laughs softly. He relaxes into the cushion behind him, and you note that his shoulders are broad even when they’re not up to his ears in a tense manner. His black button-up looks nice on him, stretching across his shoulders and chest in a snug fit. “Is it alright if we talk a little before getting into things?”

“Of course,” you nod. There hasn’t been a conversation since he asked you for your number a week ago other than when tonight’s date was planned, so you don’t quite know him. You’re someone who relies heavily on your gut feeling and right now there are no warning bells going off in your head, but chatting for a while will definitely give you a better feel of things. 

“Tell me a little about yourself?”

You tell him what you’re sure he already knows from your bio; your name and age, where you’re from and a few of your hobbies, in addition to your occupation. He listens intently, eyes taking in your features as he nods along to the information he’s receiving, drink never too far from his mouth. And when you can’t think of any other description of yourself that’s appropriate for a first meeting, you drink a little more.

“How about you?”

He hums, visibly racking his mind for something to tell you.

“Well,” he says a moment later. “I’m Jaehyun, I recently turned thirty-eight, and I’m from Seoul.”

And when he stops there, his face showing he doesn’t know what to continue with, you realize he isn’t very social. The pretty much awkward atmosphere, the shyness of his smiles and fidgeting of his fingers make you wonder if this is also his first time doing something like this, if he’s just shy overall, or both. This is nothing like what you thought it would be. You expected to be asked a lot of personal questions from the jump. You expected to get an earful of how great and successful he is, to get an earful of all the things he could do for you in exchange for whatever he wanted. You didn’t expect a socially awkward sugar-daddy-to-be.

Luckily, you’re a great conversationalist.

“So what brings you to New York?” 

“My father owns a few businesses and I chose to run the one here.”

“Do you like it here in the states?”

His eyes squint in thought before answering with, “I’m not sure,” and when your head tilts to silently ask him to elaborate, his explanation is: “I lived in Connecticut for a little when I was younger and I don’t remember much about it, and I’ve been here for a few years but I only go to work, cafes, business events and home if I’m not traveling.”

“You travel a lot?”

He rubs his lips together and tilts his head side to side with a pondering hum. “You could say that.”

“So how often would we meet?”

Jaehyunhyun blinks at your question. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, looking past his shoulder and meeting your cousin’s gaze once again. “We haven’t even gotten into that territory yet.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just glad you’re still considering it.”

Well, things are going well in your opinion, and even though he’s socially awkward, as far as you can tell, he’s good company. You’re good with conversation and take pride in brightening situations, so this arrangement could go well. He’s a busy guy so you wouldn’t see him often, which means there won’t be any major changes in your lifestyle, and that’s perfect. You have no complaints so far.

The last of your wine is sipped and you eye the last small drop that sticks to the bottom of the glass, almost tempted to ask for a refill just because it’s the weekend, but you know Taeyong will chew your head off and you’d rather not hear that on the way back to your place.

“Everything is ultimately up to you, Jaehyun,” you shrug. “I’m down if you are.”

His arm is up again and in seconds the server is back with the bottle of wine in tow. She moves to pour more into your glass but you stop her with your hand. “I’m okay, thank you.”

Jaehyun squints as his glass gets filled half-way.

“You didn’t really like it, did you?”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth. You’re amused and touched that he actually cares about what you like already. 

“I promise I did,” you laugh, resting a gentle hand on the back on his own that found the table again. He doesn’t flinch at the contact but his eyes grow in size for a split second. “I’m a bit of a lightweight and I do have to drive home.”

When he’s convinced, you bring your hand back in front of you.

“Mind me asking how you found yourself looking for a… companion?” you ask him, grinning at the way his dimple makes an appearance at your choice of words.

“It was suggested, actually,” Jaehyun responds. “I said something about always being left alone at business events because all of my partners are either in relationships, married, or like to sleep around. Plus, all I do is work, so a friend told me about the website and here we are now.” You nod along, imagining being left alone to just drink and talk business while his business partners disperse with their romantic partners. It must be boring. “What about you?”

“Also suggested,” you chuckle. “I love my job and I live pretty comfortably, but I have goals I’m working on and I’d like to do so without having to think about a bill or getting another job. My best friend successfully found a perfect match so she was sure I would, as well.”

“Before anything,” he clears his throat, looking down at his glass and watching the deep red slosh in circles due to the movement of his hand. “I want you to know I meant what I said about no special favors. I truly don’t want anything other than your company… maybe a few times a month?” he glances back up at you with flushed cheeks. Cute. “Would that work for you?”

“That’s perfect. Do I call you Daddy now?” 

He chokes on the sip he was in the middle of taking and you have to bite the inside of your lips to stop a giggle from coming out. “I’m kidding.”

He blinks at you a couple of times before shaking his head. “You’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you wink.

“If it’s alright with you, we could discuss all the paperwork the next time we meet. I wanted the both of us to get a feel of one another before we made any legal decisions.”

“That’s fine with me.” 

“I want you to do something for me.” At the rise of your brow–which was only out of curiosity and to prompt him to continue--he backtracks. “That sounded really suggestive, I apolo—”

“Jaehyun,” you call, biting back another laugh. The panic in his eyes goes away at your touch. “we already discussed there would be no sugar given, it’s okay. What do you want me to do?”

“Think of a price if you haven’t already.”

It’s up to you? 

“Really?” You ask. He nods. “You’re not going to decide? I thought that was how this worked?” You’re comfortable showing your naivety in this situation because it’s quite obvious he’s no pro at this either.

Jaehyun frowns at your words and sets his glass down, leaning forward. “Just like in any healthy or ethical relationship, business or personal, this works both ways. So with anything from this point on, if you want something or have concerns about anything you have to let me know immediately, alright?”

You nod, taken aback. “Got it.”

You’re getting the vibe that he’s serious about every move he makes, every word he says, and you can see why he’s probably such a successful businessman. He hasn’t said much but he doesn’t beat around the bush, and the transition in his aura from having small talk to talking about business, the way he just laid down the law, admittedly sparked something in your gut.

“Think about it and we’ll discuss it next time.”

“When will ‘next time’ be?”

“Let me check,” he mumbles, digging for his phone in his pocket. 

At the duck of his head, a waving hand from behind him catches your attention. Taeyong’s brows are raised, his fingers forming the okay sign. You blink a single time once more.

“I fly back in on Wednesday next week,” Jaehyun says. “Does Wednesday afternoon work for you?”

“Sounds good,” you nod.

He glances back down at his phone. “I don’t mean to rush things I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow,” Jaehyun nibbles on his bottom lip. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss tonight?”

You look up as if you’re thinking, and when Taeyong meets your eye, you subtly tilt your head in the direction of the door and naturally blink three times. “I think we covered everything so far.”

Taeyong finishes his beer and pays for it out of the corner of your eye.

“Okay then,” Jaehyun slides out of the booth and stands to your side, extending his hand for you to grab.

Add gentleman to the list of characteristics.

You grab your clutch in one hand then his own hand with your other and scoot yourself out of the booth with his assistance. He doesn’t let go, his grip loose but warm.

“It was really nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

--

“So?”

You cut your eyes at your cousin as you buckle your seatbelt.

“Can we get out of the parking lot before he comes out and before you start questioning me?”

Taeyong grumbles something under his breath but backs out of the parking space nonetheless. And as soon as you’re on the main road he repeats himself.

“He’s nice,” you hum, leaning forward to undo the clasps around your ankles, wiggling your heels off with a sigh. “I like him. He’s cute.”

Taeyong scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re really doing this.”

He wasn’t onboard with it one bit, which is why he immediately agreed to be your backup just in case. The whole ride to the bar consisted of him making sure you had the signals down packed; blink once if things are peachy, blink twice if you feel uncomfortable, and blink three times (he said thrice but that word rubs you the wrong way) when it’s time to go. Oh, and repeating that you didn’t need to do this. You appreciate him and his worries but it’s not like he’s going to help you with your debt.

You’re young, confident in your looks, confident in your personality. Nine times out of ten, you have no trouble getting what you want, so why not get a sugar daddy that doesn’t have sex as a requirement?

When Sooyoung told you about getting a couple grand a date from her guy—more if she threw in a hand- or blowjob—and she has well over enough money to blow after paying bills and saving, you were intrigued. You’re no prude or anything but you knew you wouldn’t want to jump in offering ass to almost sixty-year-old men, so when she told you that you can make it clear that you weren’t down for special flavors and that some relationships are innocent, you thought why the hell not. 

Plus, you’ve been bored and wanted to do something new, something exciting.

“Well believe it because we’re meeting again Wednesday,” you lilt. “He’s a sweetheart, really. You know how I am with catching vibes.”

“Pft. It could be an act,” he grumbles. You sigh and dig your phone out of your clutch, going to your music app. “What if he’s a narc—”

Thank god for bluetooth.

Taeyong glares at you when you turn the volume up and your favorite song blasts from his speakers, but he doesn’t try to carry on the conversation, instead singing along because you’ve played it too many times for him to not know the lyrics and because he finally caught the hint.

--

And when you get a message an hour later asking if you’ve made it home safely, you trust your gut a little more.

Today you woke up late and your outfit and hair definitely showed it when you first arrived at work, but thankfully you keep a travel-sized stash of makeup and hair tools in your desk and you were able to get yourself presentable before your first-period students piled in and took their seats. 

Being behind on grading tests and homework from last week with another pile of tests from yesterday you need to get done in time for your students to be able to see their mistakes and retest before break in a few weeks, potential sugar daddies have definitely not been on your mind.

Not until you get a message around two-thirty while you’re halfway through the homework pile.

[2:15pm] Jaehyun: Good afternoon, I will be landing shortly. Do you still want to meet today?

“Shit.”

“Language.”

You completely forgot Jisung was staying after to retake a test from weeks ago. But from the looks of it, he’s done and just chilling on his phone. A glance at your desk lets you know he’s already gotten up, walked over to your desk and put his test down in the corner. This is exactly why you shouldn’t stay up until three in the morning lesson planning and only getting three hours of sleep. 

“Hey,” you beckon him over to the seat next to yours. “Wanna help me?”

“Do I get extra credit for this?” he asks as he eyes the pile of work and the answer key you give him.

“Maybe.”

You’ll probably give him a donut or something tomorrow.

[2:17pm] you: Hey! I’m finishing up at work right now so just let me know when you’ve arrived.

After Jisung finishes his pile and you’re almost done with the new pile you started, your phone starts buzzing.

“Hello?” you answer, making sure to turn the volume down because Jisung is a nosy little thing.

“Hey,” oh, you forgot how smooth his voice is. “I’m at this cafe a couple of blocks away from the bar we last met. Would you like to meet me here and then maybe find something else?”

You take in the few tests and homework assignments left to grade. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Send me the address and I can be there in about twenty.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Did you start dating?”

You ruffle Jisung’s hair. Absolutely not telling him just so he can tell his partner in crime. You wouldn’t hear the end of it tomorrow if you did.

“Thanks for helping, hun. Am I taking you home?”

--

You barely make the twenty minute mark from the time Jaehyun sent you the address and you have to stop yourself from running inside of the cafe like a mad woman. Dropping Jisung off was no issue, his house was on the way. Your eyebags, smeared eyeliner, and dry ass lips were the problem (how some of your students can manage to fancy you when you’ve occasionally gone to school looking like a mess is beyond you). An extra five minutes or so in the parking lot of your destination resulted in you looking far better, but not nearly as good as you did the first night.

Not nearly as good as Jaehyun does sitting there waiting for you with a small mug in his hand while he holds a newspaper with the other. He’s just barely slouched, a white button-down covering his upper body this time. He looks photoshoot ready and you’re grateful you took the time to fix yourself up.

“Hey,” you greet quietly as you sit in the chair across from him, hooking your purse onto the back of it. “Sorry I’m late. I had to give one of my students a ride home.”

Jaehyun puts the newspaper down after folding it in half. “You’re not late, no worries.”

He looks tired. His bags look like how yours did before the second layer of concealer for the day, his eyes low in comparison to the last time you saw them. You wonder how far he traveled. 

“How was your flight?”

“Twelve hours too long,” he sighs. When he makes a move to take another sip of his coffee, he pouts at the realization his cup is empty. “I could barely sleep.”

“We could’ve met another day, you know?”

“I know. I wanted to see you.” He’s not flirty, but upfront. You like it. “Did you think of anything to do?”

“Well, you look like you could fall out any minute now,” you half stall, half voice genuine concern. “Maybe we should wait until your next free day to actually do something?” You’re more than fine with just sitting here for a while longer and having a collection of brief conversations with him and looking at each other until he gets too sleepy or has to leave because of another early meeting in the morning.

“Are you sure?”

You’ve been speaking all day. This is a nice wind-down from repeating yourself and having to raise your voice.

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I sat in a cafe and just chilled,” you sigh, taking another glance at your surroundings. 

“I’m getting another cup. Do you want anything?”

--

A thousand a date seems… excessive. Sooyoung is high maintenance so it makes sense for her to want that much as a minimum, especially when she goes on a date once a week. But for you, that amount is a lot when meetups with Jaehyun are going to be really chill. So when he suggests two grand every week since you still couldn’t think of a price for your possible relationship, choking on the sip of tea you just took is a reasonable reaction.

“I mean, anything less wouldn’t make much sense to me. You’re a teacher so you probably don’t make that much when student loans are involved, right?”

You blink stupidly at his bluntness. “Well, yes. But--”

“Do you have someone to help pay your bills?”

“No…”

“And you said you have goals. I want to help invest in those. Are you opposed to that?”

“Not at all.”

“So what’s the problem?” If he partakes in the debating and persuading at work, you’re sure deals end with additional zeros in his bank account. He has you stumped and you’re almost positive he proved his point with little to no thinking process required. “I was actually going to suggest more, but I figured we’d start off small. Do you just feel uncomfortable with that amount?”

It’s interesting yet almost frustrating how he’s kept the straightest face this whole discussion. Just sipping on his coffee and never breaking eye contact. You need to take notes so that your higher ups take you seriously when you address an issue. 

“No, it’s not that.”

“So,” he clears his throat, sliding a piece of paper and pen closer to you, “do we have a deal?”

“I guess we do.” You sign the contract (that you’ve already looked over a couple times) and shake his hand when he presents it in front of you. “You’re intimidating when you talk business, you know.”

His smile is wide as he shakes his head, telling you he’s been told once or twice. 

Big, excited brown eyes stare down at you as you hold Nala up in the air and softly wiggle her. Her tail wags wildly when the click and push of your front door resonates throughout your home.

“Babe?”

“In here!” you call, still giving your baby your undivided attention.

Sooyoung walks in the living room, leather pants and a fur coat adorning her figure. She tsks at the way you’re laid out on your couch, completely neglecting the powerpoints and Kahoots you were making a while ago. “Procrastination at its finest.”

Nala is taken out of your grasp and Sooyoung gives her the same treatment you just were, so you take the time to stand and stretch. “You shouldn’t have asked me out while I was in my zone. Now I’m not touching that until tomorrow,” you wave in the general direction of your Macbook.

She snorts and sits down while you go to your room to get ready for your date.

The two of you walk into a bar with R&B Hip Hop playing at the perfect volume some time later. The lights are dim and set the perfect mood for drinking and catching up. She leads you to sit at the bar and orders the both of you something that won’t exactly get you fucked up, seeing that the both of you have jobs to attend to in the morning. 

“So,” Sooyoung spins towards you, crossing her legs dramatically. 

“So?”

“Jaehyun. Tell me about him. How are things going?”

You learned from the first few times of being with Jaehyun that you’ll be doing most of the talking, but he always responds and asks a question or two, genuinely interested if the tick of his eyebrow means anything. It’s nice to have someone new to share stories with, especially since your schedule clashes with your best friend’s. Also because within the last couple of years, most of your experiences with guys have been the same: mostly physical attraction from both sides and it turning into a relationship where you get the shit end of the stick and get hurt. When it comes to Jaehyun, yes the physical attraction is there, but though you don’t know much about each other, you enjoy the platonic bond that’s building… as well as your growing savings account. You don’t text unless someone sends a simple have a great day at work or good night text (and when it’s sent to you, you usually find yourself smiling before getting out of bed or falling asleep). You never talk about anything deep like your past, dreams for the future (aside from briefly discussing the business you want to start up eventually), or theories about life, but the trivial conversations you have about work and the news and whatever else is always enough. 

“He’s kind of awkward but it’s nothing unbearable,” you begin, eyes wandering as you think of ways to describe him. “He’s tall, fine as hell for him to be almost twice my age, and…” you trail off, head tilting as you think.

She looks at you impatiently. “And what?”

“He’s such a gentleman,” you finally come up with. “I get to do whatever I want with no complaints, he makes sure my fridge and pantry are stocked, and doesn’t require a lot of my time. I can’t complain at all. Especially when he’s investing in me.”

“Show me what he looks like again.”

You pull up a picture you took with him during your museum date and hand her the phone. 

“You look good together,” she compliments after a while of observing the photo. 

You agree. 

“You sure you wanna keep up your abstinence when he’s your sugar daddy?”

You scoff lightheartedly, taking your phone back. “Is that all you think about?”

“I mean, no, but,” She gestures weirdly with her hands. “He looks like that. And he clearly treats you amazing. I would’ve been busted it open for him.”

“We both agreed on sugarless interactions,” you humph proudly. “But if this lasts a while, I would consider it.”

No point in bullshitting her when she’s known you for over a decade. You’ve been abstinent since your last relationship because you don’t like the thought or feeling of sharing such intimate energy with someone who doesn’t give a fuck about you or wouldn’t even come to the rescue if you caught a flat on the side of the road. Your last few situations with men haven’t been the best and you’ve chosen to focus on healing and growing, and most times than not, sex has interrupted that healing and growing. You don’t want to repeat the same lessons after learning them.

“Is someone crushing on their sugar daddy?” she practically sings around her straw, eyes full of mischief.

“I can’t talk well about someone without having a crush on them?”

“‘He’s such a gentleman,’” Sooyoung repeats in an exaggerated dreamy voice, topping off her performance by dramatically fitting her chin in the hand that’s propped up by her elbow on the bartop. “You already knew he wasn’t going to act like guys our age but you’re still gushing over him and considering fucking him.”

“Crush is too strong of a word,” you roll your eyes at the knowing smile she gives you. “He’s kind, attractive, successful, respectful, and helps me out financially in addition to expanding and stocking my wine collection. How else am I supposed to feel?”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Plus, he’s pretty...” you trail off to find the right word. “Guarded. We only talk about me or surface level things. Kinda hard to really like someone you hardly know.”

“Don’t act like you’re not into the mysterious type,” Sooyoung says flatly before sipping. “There was Sehun, Hyungwon, H–”

“How’s Yuta been treating you?” 

And that’s all it takes to direct the conversation to her life and stop coming for yours. She gives too many explicit details but you can’t find it in you to complain because her stories are always interesting as fuck and you aren’t getting any action. She doesn’t exactly have feelings for him, only caring about how great the sex is and the amount of money that goes into her bank account, so she can’t quite relate to the very slow building fondness you feel for Jaehyun. She was right, though. The concoction of his attractiveness, success, and mysteriousness has definitely made you develop a crush. You have other things to worry about, so you don’t exactly think too much of it and just enjoy your time with him a few times a month. 

You call it a night after one more drink, and on your way out your phone vibrates. 

[10:50pm] Jaehyun: Brunch tomorrow? 

[10:51pm] you: Sounds good

[10:56pm] Jaehyun: I’ll pick you up at 11:30. 

You can’t help but smile at the image of Jaehyun in his work attire, sitting in the booth with a grease-stained menu in his hands as he figures out what he wants to order. Brunch didn’t go quite as planned with the work you had to finish, but dinner worked perfectly for the both of you.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

Your smile only widens. “Didn’t expect you to be the hole-in -the-wall burger joint type, is all.”

“I’m treating myself,” he explains. “Yesterday was a successful day and what better way to treat myself than a greasy meal and your company?”

Your brows shoot up at his last couple of words. “My company, huh?”

He nods, averting his attention to the menu again. Though you want to press the situation a little more, you drop it, but you’re now smiling for a different reason. 

“So you said yesterday was successful?”

“Mhm. I closed an important deal and it was finalized yesterday.”

 “Congratulations. Our ideas of treating ourselves are certainly different, but I’m glad to be your treat,” You wink, having one more jab at him. And the color of his ears deepen. 

Somewhere in the midst of ordering and having small talk, the topic of stocks and investment comes up. 

“One of the smartest things I’ve ever done for the company was to invest in Bitcoin and that’s basically why I got the opportunity to run the office here,” he tells you.

“I kind of understand the concept, but I don’t understand the benefits and all that.”

This prompts Jaehyun to go on a lengthy explanation of how it works. He explains something called Blockchain then how the rapper 50 Cent accidentally got a lot of money because he invested in it when a fan of his wanted to buy an album and that was their only form of payment. You prop your elbow up and rest your chin in your palm, his words go straight over your head. In the middle of explaining how Blackbear got rich off of it and that’s why he makes terrible music now, he pauses and blinks.

“I didn’t mean to go on a tangent, I’m sorry.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t apologize, I wanna hear more.”

He looks at you skeptically, so you slip your foot in between his calves and look at him expectantly. You don’t understand the details but you appreciate the topic because it’s something he’s interested in and it’s the first time you’ve seen him talk about something with this much passion. His eyes were shiny and everything. 

You raise your eyebrows and blink until he picks the conversation back up. 

The glint in his eyes comes back while the two of you eat. Yeah, definitely crushing. 

You open your front door after a loud, sudden knock resounded throughout your apartment to find no one, but instead a few boxes and a bag waiting for you on your door mat. You tilt your head to the side and think for a moment. You didn’t order anything. 

Looking into the red bag to see if there’s a sign or clue of who these came from, you find a white envelope with your name written in cursive on it. With another glance around you, you decide to open everything inside instead. It’s cold. The packages range in size, so you pick up the smaller packages and kick the biggest one inside of your apartment. 

Seated at your dining table, you open the envelope and pull the card out. 

Saw these and thought of you. I hope you like everything. -Jaehyun 

You fight the smile that wants to take over your face. You figured it was him or Sooyoung. Your best friend likes to send you random things when she comes across something she knows you’d like but wouldn’t buy yourself. 

Actually looking at the bag, Cartier is written across it, and your eyes widen. Inside, there are two different sized boxes. The smaller one is their love ring, and the bigger one is the matching bracelet, both in yellow gold. With a grin, you nibble on your lower lip and read the card that comes with the jewelry. 

Too excited to wait until you look at the other packages, you slip the ring on your middle finger. It doesn’t go past your second knuckle, so you try your ring finger, and it fits perfectly. Next is the bracelet, which is a bit loose, but you’re sure that’s an easy fix. 

Grabbing your phone, you take a picture of the jewelry on you and send it to your sugar daddy.

[1:23pm] you: Thank you so much, Jaehyun. I love them.

His reply comes a lot quicker than you’d expected.

[1:24pm] Jaehyun: Of course. How do they fit?

[1:26pm] you: I could size down on the bracelet but the ring is perfect. 

[1:27pm] Jaehyun: We’ll get that fixed soon. Did you get everything else I sent?

Oh yeah. There is more. You put the jewelry back in the respective boxes and move on to the biggest box, which turns out to be a blender and juicer in one. This actually brings the smile out. The last time the two of you were together, you’d said in passing that you want to start making your own juices and smoothies and stuff instead of buying the processed ones from stores. 

The next box is a few bottles of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti and now your teeth are showing with how much bigger your smile gets. 

[1:35pm] you: Yes I just opened them! I appreciate everything, thank you Jae.

[1:40pm] Jaehyun: Anytime, beautiful. Remember, you can ask me for anything you want and I’ll get it, okay? [1:41pm] Jaehyun: I want you to actually tell me when you want or need something [1:41pm] Jaehyun: And we’re still good for Saturday, right? I want to pamper you a little. 

He’d mentioned it the last couple of dates, that he’d like you to send him pictures and screenshots of things you’d want and need when you come across them, to not worry about spending your own money when you’ve got him. 

[1:45pm] you: Yes sir. And I’m all yours Saturday. 

The moment you step into the nail salon, an older woman at the front greets you with a genuine smile and welcomes Jaehyun back.

“The usual?” she asks Jaehyun, to which he nods and returns her smile. “And what about you, honey?”

“A full set with gel polish, please.”

She grabs a basket of the gel polish swatches and hands it to you. “When you’re ready you can go to seat three.”

You eye the colors, but the same few colors you always gravitate towards catch your eye. 

“Hey,” you call quietly to get Jaehyun’s attention. “Can you pick a color for me?”

Not only would you like a change, you’re also curious about his taste. He wears nothing but neutral colors, as far as you know, so you wonder if it’s just for the job or if he is really just that simple of a man. 

The lady on the other side of desk three smiles brightly at you as you put your purse on the hook next to you. “Did you pick a color yet?”

You point to Jaehyun, “I let him decide for me today.”

Her eyebrows slowly rise. “He’s finally gotten himself a girlfriend?” she asks the woman beside her. They just exchange a look that you don’t quite understand or care enough to try to understand.

Right as she begins prepping your second hand, Jaehyun sits down beside you at desk two and sets his chosen color beside you.

A neutral pink. Fitting for the season, but a color you definitely would’ve chosen yourself. 

“This with the white tips. I like that look,” he explains. Good taste. You haven’t had french tips in a while. 

He watches the nail technician he was assigned to as she works, the two having small talk and you take a wild guess that she’s the woman who usually, if not always, does his manicures, meanwhile you watch the tv above your tech’s head. This compilation of aesthetically pleasing videos is playing and it’s admittedly hard to take your eyes off of it. 

The video plus getting pampered has you relaxed in your seat, the stress from the school week that just ended melting away. Your nail technician is so gentle with you, you could doze off. She eventually asks a few questions like if you’re from around the area, if you know there’s a bruise on the middle finger of your dominant hand (from holding pens/pencils all damn day) and more all in a gentle voice, and before you know it she’s done with the structure of the acrylic and the filing, sending you off to rinse your hands off well.

You come back to the sight of Jaehyun stifling a big yawn behind his free hand, shaking his head as if to gather himself right after. Once again, instead of getting some rest after a long flight, he’s out with you. This is the third time. A big part of you is flattered, really, because you enjoy being with him and the feeling is clearly mutual. But, you’re sure he didn’t get proper rest last night or today.

You stick your right hand out for the tech to start on and place your free hand on his bicep to gain his attention. He blinks at you, confused, and you ignore the sudden warmth that spreads in your chest at the adorable look on his face. 

“Why do you keep postponing sleep to take me out?” you ask.

The blinking continues, taken aback at getting called out. “Because I look forward to being with you after business trips?” he asks more than states, and you just continue to admire his straightforwardness. 

“Do you trust me to drive back?” You caress his blushing cheek with your thumb because you can’t help yourself when the color fades in, and he doesn’t move away. If anything, he leans into the touch, much to your surprise. “You look like you could fall out any second.”

He nods slowly and you return the gesture with a smile, muttering out a soft ‘okay’ before putting your hand back in front of you. 

“I’m glad to see you’ve found someone that can deal with your busy schedule,” his nail tech says, sighing like a relative that’s been waiting for him to get married for the longest. “You two are a lovely couple.”

The two of you thank her, both glancing at one another. 

“Speaking of schedules,” Jaehyun says as if just remembering something. “Are you busy on Saturday?”

“Not if you need me.” Saturday was just going to be spent reviewing lesson plans and doing self-care with Bella.

His dimples appear at your response. “We have a business event to attend to.”

“Ah,” You nod and squint in mock suspicion. “You’re buttering me up to surround me with a whole bunch of men talking about boring business stuff. Got it.”

“It’s not even like that,” he chuckles deeply. “You know I need you by my side.”

And yeah, that is in the contract, but the tone of his voice and look in his eyes make you believe that your agreement isn’t the only reason for his words. Now you’re the one with a warm face.

Back in the front of the salon, after Jaehyun has paid, he gently grabs your hand and lifts it up to look at your nails. He nods, satisfied with how they look, clasping your hands together to lead you out of the salon. Not before thanking and saying goodbye to the staff.

Jaehyun opens the door of the driver’s side with his free hand and gestures for you to get in. When you just stand there, he says: “You said you’d drive, right?”

“You’re one hundred percent sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Your initial thought is why would you be because even Taeyong doesn’t let you drive his baby, but you don’t question him further. You just slip into the car and he’s fighting a smile at the way all of your teeth are showing due to your excitement. He closes the door and makes his way into the passenger seat. 

You’ve never felt so giddy to adjust mirrors and the seat of a car before. 

“Where to?” you ask, seatbelt on and ready to go.

“The mall we passed on the way here. I saw something I thought you might like.”

You absolutely adore the matching Saint Laurent bag and heels; black with gold accents. 

“Oh wow.”

Jaehyun’s reaction to you opening your front door is enough to let you know he thinks you look as good as you feel, if not better. Admittedly, the heels are the most uncomfortable pair you’ve ever walked in, but when they look this pretty, paired with the sleek, tight emerald dress that you were gifted a couple days ago with a note reminding you of tonight’s events, who really cares about comfort? You’ll likely be sitting down most of the night, anyway. 

You smile slyly at his lack of words. “Hey, handsome. Come in, I’m almost done.”

“You smell good,” is what he says as he walks past you and into your home, and you’ll take it. You did bring out your favorite scent tonight after all. 

“Thank you,” you chuckle. “I’ll be right back.”

Maybe you walk a tad bit slower than usual because you have a great feeling he’s watching you as you disappear into your room. You grab your purse and trench coat, check your lip gloss, then make your way back to where you left Jaehyun. 

“Sorry,” he begins as you walk up to him, prompting you to raise a brow. “Good evening. You look amazing and I was lost for words for a moment.”

“Thank you,” you repeat. You fix the flap of his tuxedo jacket as you return the compliment. “And thanks for the dress. You have a weirdly good eye for what looks good on me.”

“When I saw the dress I just knew,” Jaehyun shrugs, eyes definitely on what the neckline exposes before they move up to your eyes. “Ready?”

On the way to the event, Jaehyun gives you a small rundown of what to expect. 

“Most of the people you’ll meet are cool, they may talk your head off, though.”

“Nothing I’m not used to,” you shrug. Being a teacher calls for lengthy conversations you’d rather not participate in. “‘Most,’ though?”

“There are a few guys I’m personally not fond of and wouldn’t be working with them if it weren’t for my father’s connection.”

You nod. “I’m sure I can make interactions a little more digestible for you. I mean, that is why I’m here.”

“Just let me know if it becomes too much. I’m not opposed to leaving early.”

You’re sure you’ll be fine, but you hum in affirmation.

“Where are we going?” you ask. 

“My restaurant.” Of course he owns a restaurant. “When we have special occasions I shut it down to the public and we have our events there.” 

You lightly hit his shoulder. “You’ve had a restaurant this whole time but let me struggle to pick somewhere to eat for the last couple of months?”

He grins, grabbing the hand that hit him to kiss your knuckles apologetically. 

“It’s cute to watch,” he admits, laughing at the glare you send him. 

It’s almost as if Jaehyun turns into a different person when the two of you step into the restaurant. Instead of the shy smiles you’re used to, you’re met with the sight of his grin and lidded eyes as he returns the greetings he gets while you walk past the bar where most of the men are seated and standing around to wherever he leads you, left hand on the small of your back. Even the smile he gives a few that show all his teeth don’t give you the usual feeling you’ve grown accustomed to. The usual warmth in your chest travels down to your abdomen as you witness him in his element, around his employees, business partners, and others. You smile and follow Jaehyun’s lead perfectly, but in the breaks between speaking to random people you catch yourself looking at him from the corner of your eye.

Yeah, you like this side of him.

You’re led to a table and Jaehyun pulls a seat out for you to settle down in. 

“What do you want to drink?” he asks, hands still on the back of your seat from pushing it in, bent down to your level. And your body decides to become hyper aware of his proximity, of his minty breath fanning against your ear. You turn to catch his gaze, and he licks his lips. 

“What are my options?”

His response is a deep hum, followed by: “I’m sure I’ve got whatever you have a taste for.”

You squint a little, observing him.

“Yeah?” you ask. And the grin you receive in return confirms your suspicions. He’s flirting. 

“Whatever you’re getting is fine.” 

“I’ll be back. No one should bother you,” he promises before he’s off to the bar.

No one is apparently a tall man with long, black hair that’s pushed back and an undercut. And a smile you can’t decipher. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, beautiful,” is the first thing he says, leaning his weight onto the hands he sets on the table. “I’m John.”

You look him up and down. “Nice to meet you, John.”

You’re stuck on introducing yourself, unsure if he really knows who you are. You remember his face when vague introductions were made, but he’s the only one that has done more than just stare and smile at you. You briefly look in the direction Jaehyun left to and he has a flute in each hand, caught up talking to an older man.

“I’m not trying to get at you,” he reassures you with a laugh. “I take it you’ve never heard of me and I’m hurt, honestly. I’m Jaehyun’s best friend.”

That explains a lot. 

“John.” Champagne is set down in front of you, but before you can thank him, he’s speaking to your new acquaintance. “Let’s not do that thing you like to do.”

“Am I not important to you?” Johnny asks dramatically after they give each other a hug. Jaehyun ignores him as he sits down beside you “You’d think after all these years I’d come up in conversation with your–”

“You’re doing the thing,” Jaehyun interrupts. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

John’s smile is slick but he leaves without another word. But not without a wink that makes Jaehyun’s face somehow get straighter. 

“He’s your best friend?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink. It’s dry going down, and you make a mental note to get something else once you’ve finished this flute. 

“I question myself on it, too.” The drink goes down smoother for Jaehyun. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, though.”

“You’re a big question mark,” you laugh lightheartedly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I just don’t know much about you.”

There’s a moment of silence as he slowly nods his head, and you almost regret saying anything. While your best friend was right about mysterious guys being your type, you’d think after being in each other’s company for so long you’d know a little more about him than just the basics and his everyday life. With the tiny crush you’ve acquired, your curiosity has increased, but you’ve never brought the matter up because you almost feel as if it isn’t your place to. 

“What do you want to know about me?” he finally asks. His flute is set on top of the table and he leans into you, giving you his full attention.

“Whatever you’re comfortable sharing. Nothing crazy like your childhood trauma or anything but I’m just interested in you as a person.”

You enjoy the small details you learn about him each time you meet, you just want to go a little deeper than the surface. You’ve gotten the chance to hear about his family and his relationship with them a little, but you’d like more. 

You don’t think you’re doing this sugar baby thing correctly. You probably shouldn’t be so invested in who Jaehyun is as a person outside of his status and money wiring. You definitely shouldn’t be liking him to the extent that you do. 

The man beside you hums, rolling his lips together like everything you’ve said since John left requires extra processing, which leads you to down more of the dry drink anxiously. 

He ends up scooting his chair closer to yours. 

“I’ve been told I’m boring,” he confesses.

“Quiet, maybe,” you correct him. “But I doubt you’re boring.”

“Ask me whatever you’re interested in knowing about and I guess I’ll let you be the judge. Does that sound good to you?”

Nervousness transmutes into excitement that you have to bite down, literally biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling at this little breakthrough. 

“Sounds great.”

“You have to reciprocate, though,” is Jaehyun’s condition. “I definitely want to get to know more about you, too.”

--

More of Jaehyun’s close friends and the employees that aren’t afraid to walk up to him and speak about something other than work come by the pair of you, and you’re perfectly content with mostly just sitting on the sidelines and observing. Dinner won’t actually start for another half hour, apparently, so now is when everyone is mingling. Comments have been made about how the two of you look good together, even some separate compliments about you, but mainly directed at him. 

An older man puts a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, making his presence known and stealing his attention away from the conversation Jaehyun is having with an intern that so clearly looks up to him. One glance up tells you all you need to know about this man. Jaehyun’s smile turns fake. 

“Mr. Park,” he greets politely, nodding to the intern to silently tell him they’ll talk later while standing, hovering over the elder. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you on the big deal again,” Mr. Park says, gaze trailing down to you. You throw him a polite smile. “And to say hello to the beautiful woman you’ve been hiding from us.”

And there it is. The compliment is completely different from the one John indirectly gave you, his tone enough to create an uncomfortable atmosphere. You slowly rise to your feet anyway, extending your hand towards him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Park.”

“And she’s got manners,” he continues. Your hand is grasped, but lifted up to his mouth, and he plants a kiss onto your knuckles. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

As you pull your hand away, you introduce yourself. You discretely wipe your hand off onto your dress and intertwine your fingers with Jaehyun’s. 

“A gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.” The line is as outdated as he is but you keep a pleasant expression on, thanking him. “Why is this my first time seeing you?”

“Conflicting schedules,” you say. “But I had to come and celebrate with him this time.”

“You’ve caught a good one,” the elder man winks. “Better keep her close. Never know who’d want to take your place.”

His laugh annoys you. The sound is high pitched and almost taunting. 

“Very unlikely they’d get the chance to, but thank you for the compliment.” You lift your hand to caress the nape of Jaehyun’s neck, getting him to look down at you. “He’s perfect, how could anyone else even compare?”

And there’s the shy smile you’re familiar with. 

“Yeah?” Jaehyun asks, so you continue to milk your performance for Mr. Park. 

“Mhm,” you nod, letting your hand rub down his chest, intensifying your gaze. Nothing but solid muscle is felt beneath the fabric of his shirt. “You know how good you make me feel.”

Jaehyun doesn’t have a comeback, but his smile widens as he lets go of your hand to slide it to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him—he smells so good. He cranes his neck down until his nose brushes your own. Having him this close, his breath fanning over your mouth, your own breathing gets heavier. At the corner of your eye, the older man continues to watch the interaction, and when you lift your chin just a little to brush your glossy lips against Jaehyun’s, your audience finally takes the hint, telling you it was nice to meet you and congratulating your date before briskly walking off. 

“Was that too much?” you whisper when it’s just the two of you. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

Jaehyun laughs, more to himself, caressing your exposed back with his thumb. “Not at all.”

“I don’t like him,” you confess, hand still on his chest. Peeling your body from his own isn’t an appealing thought right now. He doesn’t make a move to do so, either. “He made me uncomfortable so I had to return the feeling. I hope he enjoyed the show.”

“So I’m perfect, huh?” The brunet prompts, a teasing smile playing on his lips. 

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the perfect package,” you say matter of factly. “You’re kind, respectful, successful, and handsome with a great head on your shoulders…” The sight of his tongue swiping over his lower lip–licking over your peach flavored gloss– momentarily distracts you. 

“Even though you don’t know much about me, you still think so highly of me?” Did his voice get even deeper somehow? 

“I’m sure you’ve got your fair share of skeletons in your closet but who doesn’t? And after seeing you interact with everyone I can see why half of them look up to you.”

You can’t get your eyes off of the lower half of his face, can’t find it within you to care that he’s definitely noticed by now. Especially when he smiles, the skin around his nose creating what looks like whiskers. 

“I guess I know who to go to whenever I doubt myself now, huh?”

Smoothing your hand back up to the nape of his neck, you hum. “I like to think I’m good at making people feel good.”

His tongue peeks out to wet his lips again before he clears his throat, hand slipping to your waist as he takes his time detaching from you. Your own hand drops pathetically. “Do you want another drink?” 

“Just water, please.”

At his lack of presence, you sit back down, blinking in disbelief. Jaehyun’s a smart man. He has to know how him touching you like that—holding you like that—affected you. Every interaction makes you fall for him a little more, makes you desire him a lot more. 

You close your eyes and sigh. “I like to think I’m good at making people feel good,” you mock yourself under your breath. 

When you peek at Jaehyun while he’s at the bar, you notice he takes a moment to himself to take a deep breath, laughs to himself, and shakes his head before proceeding to get two glasses of the water you requested.

Spring break. 

A week without having to wake up at the asscrack of dawn, without three periods of high schoolers getting on your damn nerves, in addition to a few teachers having sticks so far up their asses and other unorganized, difficult staff and faculty. Not as long as winter break but the weather is nicer and you can go to the beach to relax and unwind this year.

Taeyong’s girlfriend has a beach house that she told him to invite you to because she knows with your profession you’d highly appreciate the peace and quiet, and you agreed immediately, your bags packed containing mostly bathing suits and sundresses. A week at the beach where you don’t have to put much effort into doing your hair and makeup unless someone decides they want to go out for dinner? Perfect. 

“Hellooo?”

Taeyong appears a few seconds after his greeting, holding up an untouched smoothie in one hand and a brown bag you’re sure has a muffin in it in the other one. Bless his soul.

He has a big smile on his face and the black rimmed sunglasses with red lenses that you got him for his birthday and a sweatsuit similar to the one you’ve got on. 

“Aw, you wanna be like me.”

He rolls his eyes once he sees what you’re talking about. “Are you ready?”

You scan your bed. Toiletry bag, chargers and hair products and tools inside of your suitcase, check. Shoe bag, check. Accessories, check.

“Ready,” you nod, finishing up by zipping up your suitcase and shoe bag.

When he’s by your side he bumps your hip with his, telling you he’s got your bags and to just take what’s in his hands.

“I know you haven’t eaten yet,” he gives you a parental look and effortlessly picks your heavy ass suitcase up to settle it on the floor and extend the handle. “so I got you something small because Seulgi is cooking for us right now.”

You hum a thanks, slipping your slides on.

“Be good while I’m gone, okay?” you coo to Nala as you pick her up and hold her out in front of you. She lets out a tiny bark. “I’ll miss you too, sweetie.”

A kiss to the top of her furry little head before she’s free to roam around as she pleases.

“Don’t forget the alarm.”

“Yes, mother,” you mock, and when his mouth opens to ask another question you quickly add, “I texted Jisung the code and Nala’s schedule. Now go.”

When your music starts playing in the car, Taeyong side eyes you.

“You listen to the same three songs, Tae,” you deadpan.

He doesn’t even try to deny it, instead, starting up a conversation on what you’re not going to do to embarrass him since it’s your first time meeting his girlfriend.

--

Taeyong gently sets down all of the bags at the front door, then beckons you to follow him quietly. 

Music is blasting and a feminine voice is singing along. When you two round the corner you’re greeted with the sight of hips moving side to side, her back to the two of you as she cooks.

There’s already plates set up at the table on the other side of the kitchen, and in the middle of the wooden tabletop, there’s a variety of sides, a bottle of wine that has recently become your favorite, and another bottle of sparkling water.

You stay put at the entrance of the kitchen while Taeyong sneaks up behind her, hands behind his back as he leans close to say something you can’t hear in her ear. Her voice cracks when she screams, body turning around to immediately fight him, fists positioned until she sees it’s just her boyfriend. She calls him a jerk and pouts, but then her arms are around his neck for a quick hug and kiss, eyes widening at something else he says before her attention snaps to you. A big smile takes over her face and she all but pushes him away to make a beeline for you.

“Will you be uncomfortable if I hug you right now?”

You blink. “No?”

She wastes no time to do just that, rocking you side to side with a sigh. “I’ve been waiting to meet you. Taeyong’s told me so much about you,” she laughs, giving you a big squeeze before letting you go. “Hi, I’m Seulgi. I asked Taeyong what you like to eat but he’s no help and he wouldn’t give me your number,” she rolls her eyes. “He said something about you being embarrassing.”

Not only is her beach house lovely, with a beautiful view of the beach that you haven’t even fully gotten to see yet, she’s gorgeous and kind. You like her already.

“I’m not picky,” you wave dismissively, Taeyong snorting, “nor am I embarrassing,” you direct a glare at your cousin when he passes on his way to get the luggage.

It would’ve been nice to have a chat or two with her before officially meeting.

“Let me show you your room.”

Seulgi grabs your hand softly and leads you up the stairs, makes a right then opens the second door on the left.

Huge bed with black and white sheets and a white comforter, huge tv on a black wooden dresser that matches the nightstand beside the bed.

“Sorry for how dark it is, my sister decorated it.”

Taeyong comes in and sets your bags in front of the bed, then he’s got an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“Closet is right there,” Seulgi points to a door on the right side of the main door, “bathroom is here,” her finger flies to the other side of the room. “If you need a nice bath you’re free to use the one in our room, just let me know so we can get out of your way. Any questions or concerns?”

“Nope,” you take another glance around the room. “I’m good. Thank you for letting me stay here.”

She gently swats a perfectly manicured hand at you. “Please, if you ever need to get away from the city for a couple of days just let me know, you’re always welcome to stay.”

You might be looking at her the same way Taeyong is right now. Completely enamored.

A timer sounds from downstairs, Seulgi perking up.

“Food’s done. Come down whenever you’re ready,” she says to you and Taeyong, patting him on the back before heading downstairs.

“I love her.”

Taeyong laughs with a nod, taking a seat at the foot of your bed. “Yeah, me too. I knew the two of you would hit it off but I was still nervous.”

“When you fuck up I’m snatching her,” you say with a wide smile as you walk out of the room.

Lunch goes amazingly. There’s endless conversation filled with learning about each other and you only try to embarrass your cousin once just because of the lecture in the car, to which you earned a flick on the forehead for, but Seulgi pinched his arm for you. You get both sides of the story on how they met at the gym, your cheek in your palm as you watch the couple reminisce with banter and heart eyes, appreciating the display of love.

Clothes get changed into bathing suits and then the three of you are walking barefoot in the sand, headed closer to the ocean. The walk is short, and only a couple of minutes later towels and lounge chairs are spread out, the cooler filled with water bottles and wine coolers is set down somewhere in between, and all of you are lying down under the sun.

The star is blazing and you’ll never admit it to him, but you’re thankful Taeyong asked if you applied sunblock before you stepped outside (“I’m a responsible adult, Taeyong. Of course I did.”). The breeze against your skin is pleasant combined with the bright, hot sun. 

Conversation naturally slips into silence, Seulgi on her stomach to tan her back, Taeyong up and becoming one with the ocean because he takes astrology seriously now. You check the texts Jisung sent less than an hour ago, updating you on how the walk with Nala went and that he ate all of your grapes with a smiling emoji. Your eyes roll when you tell him to eat all he wants.

A soft call of your name takes your attention off of your phone and directs it to the woman the voice came from.

“Yeah?”

“Are you in a relationship?”

You snort. “I’m very single.”

An intrusive thought of Jaehyun surfaces, but you push it out just as fast as it arrived.

She frowns.

“I’ll try to keep down the affection with Taeyong in front of you. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Even with her invitation, you’re the one that’s kind of interrupting a romantic vacation, whether they view it that way or not. Your plan is to be a ghost, chill on the beach and read as much as you can and let the couple do all of their couple activities without the thought of you being here until it’s time for dinner or any other group event.

“Don’t worry about me,” you smile, adjusting your sunglasses. “I don’t mind PDA.”

“Just let us know if we’re being gross, okay?”

You nod, but you doubt you’ll catch them being gross often with how you’ve planned your visit.

An hour after Taeyong snatched your phone out of your hand and dropped it in the sand beside you to throw you over his shoulder and bring you into the water with him, you’re exhausted and smell like salt. You don’t know if a shower has ever felt this good before. The water’s temperature is just right, the pressure is great, the loofah that was waiting for you is perfect, and it could also be the many wine coolers and shots you downed, but you feel amazing. The more it sinks in that you don’t have to deal with fifteen through eighteen-year-olds nor do you have to plan anything for them for the next six days because you already lost sleep making sure you had papers printed and powerpoints made a week in advance, but your students do have homework and study guides complete before Monday, the lighter your body feels. Oh, you’re going to sleep amazingly tonight.

A long swipe of your hand across the foggy mirror shows you an image of you looking the most content you’ve seen yourself in a while. Your skin is a little darker than when you first arrived and glowing, Eyes heavy from the drinks and sleepiness, the smallest of smiles playing on your lips. 

Tightening your towel around you, you get to work combing your drenched hair out. There’s music playing from the speakers around the house, faint but loud enough to recognize the beat, your hips moving along to it. You squeeze some product into your hand then smooth it throughout the detangled half of your head before doing the same on the other side. 

The calm atmosphere is ruined by your name getting called by a familiar yet unexpected voice and your body jumps because of it. The mirror has cleared up for the most part and when you lift your eyes from the reflection of your fingers in your hair to the reflection on the man in dark clothing you scream, bringing your hand to the secured knot that’s  keeping your towel and turning around. 

What the actual fuck.

“Shit, Jaehyun,” you place your free hand over your heart, exhaling loudly.

A loud call of your name from your cousin sounds from downstairs but you’re too busy staring at the man in front of you dumbly. He’s looking at you the same way. Heavy footsteps up the stairs end when two concerned faces pop up behind him before you can open your mouth and ask how the hell the two of you are in the same place right now.

“Oh,” Seulgi says, wide eyes moving back and forth between the two of you before she pushes Jaehyun into the room that you now know is behind the extra door you peeped before getting into the shower and her voice goes out as she asks, “when did you even get here?”

The look on Taeyong’s face shows he’s waiting for his girlfriend to be far enough away for him to ask, “Isn’t that-”

You nod. “Yep.”

“Come downstairs when you’re done?” Seulgi asks, popping her head back into the bathroom. Once you nod again, she pulls Taeyong away with her and shuts the door. 

You finish up your hair and get dressed quickly. You don’t understand how the hell you ended up in this kind of coincidence, but your buzzed mind doesn’t bother to try to put any pieces together, especially since you’re on the way downstairs to get answers. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on the way?” Seulgi asks from the kitchen.

“You knew I was coming…” Jaehyun’s deadpan voice makes you smile, but you straighten your face when you round the corner and get into their line of sight. You make your way beside Taeyong, whose eyebrows are pulled in as he stares at the side of the newcomer’s face. A touch of your hand on his arm relaxes his tense form and breaks his one-sided stare off, eyes soft when they land on you. Soon everyone’s attention is on you. Jaehyun doesn’t seem surprised anymore. More like he’s just taking in your reaction to everything, seeing how he should regard you.

“So I forgot to mention my cousin would be here,,” Seulgi starts with an awkward, apologetic smile. “And I forgot to mention you were coming,” she says, looking and pointing at you. She proceeds to introduce you and Taeyong to Jaehyun and vice versa.

You push yourself off the table and walk up to him, hand presented between you two for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

His lips go thin before he lets out an amused breath through his nose. He grabs your hand and gingerly shakes it. “Likewise.”

--

A knock on the half-closed door grants you access to the view of Jaehyun slowly sitting up on his bed, one hand caressing his chin while the other holds his phone. 

“So,” you hum, leaning against the doorframe. “Looks like we’re together this week after all.”

The other day he told you he’d be on vacation for a week so he couldn’t meet up with you, which was perfect because you were in the same situation, and now look at you. The cousin of the love of Taeyong’s life is the man you meet up with weekly. the man that adds money into your bank account weekly. You’ve sobered up since the bathroom incident and honestly, you’re pretty happy to spend more than a few hours at a time with him. 

“All week, at that.”

“I’m excited,” you admit. “If it storms, your bed is fair game, right?”

Jaehyun shakes his head with a smile, but responds with: “I’ll keep the doors unlocked.”

When you knock on Jaehyun’s door the next day around noon, it takes a moment for him to grant your entrance, and when you open it he’s on his laptop. 

“Is this not a vacation for you?” you tsk after catching a glimpse of the screen.

He lets out a deep chuckle. “It is, but-”

“No buts,” you interrupt him. “If it isn’t detrimental, I’d like your company on the beach.”

“So we’re not pretending we don’t know each other?”

You take a seat next to him on the edge of his bed. 

“Taeyong was there the first night we met,” you admit, to which Jaehyun nods. 

“You came prepared.”

“You could’ve been a creepy seventy-something year old man trying to get his dick wet,” you say, and he chuckles, nodding again. “I don’t think he’d say anything to Seulgi, honestly. But even if he did, we’re grown.” You shrug. 

Jaehyun saves a document and exits out of it, closing his laptop to put it to the side. He finally looks at you for more than a quick second, and his gaze lingers on the bikini and the see-through cover up you have on. 

“That’s a pretty color on you,” he compliments before getting up and walking to his suitcase. 

“Thank you.” You watch him as he squats down to open his luggage, rummaging through his clothes until he pulls out a pair of swim trunks. In your internal excitement that you’ve successfully pulled him away from work to come to the beach with you, you fail to decipher what the expectant yet amused look on his handsome face translates to when he’s back to his full height. 

“Are you comfortable?” Jaehyun asks, the corner of his mouth lifted. You open your mouth to question what he means but when he slowly lifts his shirt off, you understand. You nibble on the inside of your lip.

How bold do you want to be? 

You’re on vacation with your sugar daddy, even if that wasn’t the original plan. In a beach house, alone—the couple went out to get more groceries because Seulgi got carried away yesterday in the kitchen. You know exactly how you feel about the man before you, and even though he’s still hard to read, his glances and touches either give you an idea of how he might feel, or they just make you delusional. You doubt it's delusion, though, if you’re being honest. 

The contract, though. 

“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” you finally say after a long moment of silently staring at one another. “Want me to pack any drinks for you?”

“It’s only noon.”

“You’re on vacation,” you counter, hand lingering on the door under the guise you’re just still having conversation. All of those hours in the gym have done him well. 

“A couple of beers wouldn’t hurt, I guess.” He shrugs. 

“There ya go,” you lilt, smiling widely, finally taking your leave. 

You’re definitely going to make the most of this trip. 

--

With only sunglasses and black swim trunks, Jaehyun makes his way towards you on the beach after a while. You’re in the midst of putting on sunscreen, struggling to reach the middle of your back.

“Do you need help?” he asks, sitting next to you on your lounge chair instead of the one you set up for him a couple of feet away. 

“Please,” you exasperate. You hand him the bottle and turn your back towards him. He rubs the lotion onto your back with the perfect pressure, starting from your shoulders and gradually making his way down to your lower back. Head tilting to the side, you let out a hum of appreciation. “I just know you give good massages.”

“I’ve only given one or two,” Jaehyun admits, hands still going even though he’s covered basically every inch of your back. His fingers slip under the horizontal strap, spreading outward and grazing over the side of your breasts. “Always been on the receiving end.”

“Well,” you sigh, enjoying his lingering touch. “I’ll gladly be your test dummy. I’ve got some knots in the back of my neck and my feet could definitely use some TLC.”

Jaehyun chuckles, adjusting your bathing suit strings before handing you the bottle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you need me to put some on your back?” you ask, happy to return the favor. 

He thinks about it for a moment before he nods and turns. You shake the bottle and pop the cap open before squeezing the sunscreen onto the palm of your hand, throw the bottle to the side and rub your hands together before running them up his back. 

“You talk about me,” Jaehyun laughs breathily when he shivers a bit at your touch. You hum in question, working your fingers into his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles and having the need to release some of the tension while you’re here. You appreciate how his muscles feel under his smooth skin. “Might have to start going to you for my bi-weekly massages instead of the spa.”

You enjoy spending time with him. You enjoy learning new things about him. You really enjoy the intimate moments the two of you share.

“I think that’s something we could arrange.”

Finishing up, you rub the residual sunscreen on your hands down his arms and give a squeeze, signaling the end of his impromptu massage. 

“What’s the plan for the day?” Jaehyun asks once the two of you are laying side by side in the chairs. 

“Sit in the sun for a while, get in the water for a while, drink until I feel like I’m one with the ocean, and leave once I’m burnt out,” you list for him. “You down?”

He nods. “I am.”

And when it’s time to get in the ocean, the waves are stronger than you thought they’d be. Nothing crazy, but with how deep you wanted to go, the water smacks into your face sometimes.

“Come here,” Jaehyun finally says after laughing at your cute struggle. He grabs your waist and tugs you into his body, and after you place your hands on his shoulders, he lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. 

The added height and being pressed against his toned body make the experience even better. 

The rest of the time spent in the water goes by like this, not many words exchanged, but you lightly clinging onto him, his hold on you strong but not restricting, and the two of you just enjoy the surprisingly almost empty beach together. You leave when both of you are raisined, and come back to the beach house to Taeyong finishing preparing lunch. 

–

You can’t remember the last time you were in a jacuzzi. 

Taeyong urged you to get in because he wanted to spend some alone time with Seulgi while they cooked dinner for everyone and you had no qualms. You made sure to grab a bottle of wine and a wine glass before getting kicked out, though. 

You’re in the middle of pouring your second glass when you hear the sliding door open and close, then Jaehyun is walking towards you with a towel slung over his shoulder and blue swim trunks sitting low on his hips.

Is he genuinely this oblivious to how captivating he is?

“I got kicked out,” he tells you, kicking his flip flops off. 

“Join the club.” You raise your glass towards him before taking a sip. 

You watch him as he climbs in, settling down on the opposite side of where you’re sitting, arms spread out to his sides. There’s a still moment where you observe one another, a slight smile on his face while you continue to drink from your glass.

“I’m surprised you’re not sick of that wine by now.”

“It’s been my favorite since the night we met,” you admit, hiding a shy smile behind the rim of your glass. “I’m almost out of the stock you gave me.”

“I’ll send you some more when we get back,” Jaehyun promises. “Have you tried the white?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t want to open a bottle and waste it if I didn’t like it.”

“I want you to try it. It’s my favorite.“ He stands up and climbs back out of the hot tub. 

Jaehyun disappears and he’s in and out quickly with the bottle, bottle opener, and glass in hand, this time sitting closer to you when he’s back in the water. He fills up half of his glass before holding it out to you. Setting your own down, you grab Jaehyun’s and take a sip, swishing it around in your mouth to get rid of the other wine’s taste and swallowing before taking another to really taste it. 

“I like it.” You nod.

“Clearly not as much as the red,” Jaehyun laughs, taking the glass back to drink it himself. 

You don’t, but you might also just like it because he took it upon himself to get out of the jacuzzi when he’d only been sitting in it for a couple of minutes just to go back into where he got kicked out of, just so you can taste his favorite wine. Granted, Jaehyun is drinking it himself, but your mind focuses on how he possibly just got softly chewed out for going back in for you. 

“Why are you still single?” you practically sigh, not quite understanding how a man of his status, with his looks, kindness, and personality hasn’t been swept up and married by now. 

Jaehyun’s brow raises mid-sip.

“I could ask you the same,” he retorts instead of giving a real answer. You’ve known him long enough to know he won’t just give you the information you’re searching for, you’ve got to give him a piece of you before he returns the gesture. And you have no qualms.

“Well,��� you start, turning towards him more, kicking your feet up so your heels rest upon his lap. He doesn’t even blink at the change of position. “I’m taking the time to build myself and the life I desire without too many distractions. I’ve had ideas and goals for myself and my future for years, but when I’d get into a relationship I always ended up slacking and pushing those goals aside for later. I’m now at a place in my life where I love myself enough to not let me sweep my goals under the rug for the love of someone else. I’m still young, I have time to find love after I’ve established myself to an extent that I’m more than content with.”

Jaehyun hums, setting his now empty glass aside before your foot is in his hands with his thumbs digging into your sole firmly. 

“Do you not think it’s possible to establish yourself and find love in the process?” he prompts.

“That hasn’t been the case thus far,” you chuckle, the sound trailing into a quiet groan. Whatever pressure point he just pressed into feels like heaven. “You sure you’ve never given a massage?”

The brunet flashes you a satisfied smile, shaking his head softly. “Sounds like your previous partners were distractions rather than supporters.”

“My taste in men was terrible,” you agree instantly. “I was always the one to love more and make more sacrifices for love while I got gaslit and mediocre sex in return.”

You’re saying more than you’d intended to, and you definitely blame your slight intoxication, but it’s actually nice to talk about this with someone who isn’t your cousin or your best friend. You don’t mind opening up to Jaehyun at all. His presence has been warm, inviting since day one, and he doesn’t give the impression to be one to judge. 

Jaehyun lifts your leg to dig into your calf muscle, resting your foot on his chest. “You have pretty feet.”

You laugh at his compliment, raising a teasing brow. “A foot fetish, huh?”

The corners of his mouth fight to not lift. “When was your last relationship?” 

“About a year and a half ago.” You set your glass next to his and fit your cheek into your propped up hand. “I’ve been abstinent since.”

Jaehyun’s eyes grow big. “Really?”

“It’s not that hard.” You shrug. “Definitely gets boring, though. But that discipline has allowed me to get further with my passions than ever before. Well, the discipline plus you.”

Jaehyun’s pretty fingers just so happen to find another spot, this time in your calf, that makes you practically whimper from the pleasurable pain. The moment of eye contact that comes right after lets you know you didn’t bite it down enough to mute the sound, as well as the way his movements falter. 

Clearing his throat, he asks, “From funding?”

“Mostly, yeah. But you’re a really disciplined person who many look up to. You even work on vacation,” you tsk lightheartedly. “The energy has rubbed off on me a little.”

“Being around you has definitely made me cut back on how much time I put into work.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve gotten to actually spend uninterrupted time with Seulgi. And bond with Taeyong for the first time in what? Three years?” 

Now that he’s mentioned it, you realize just how much more frequent your meetups are in comparison to when you’d first met. You see him every week, and while every date isn’t full of long conversations and massages, he rarely checks his emails or ends nights sooner than expected because of early mornings ahead. 

“So basically I was a great addition to your life.” You nod, wiggling your leg out of his grasp then presenting your untouched foot for him to start working on. “Okay–your turn to talk.”

He sighs deeply, gaze dropping from your face to the task at hand. 

“I’m similar to you, in regards to being the one that loves more than being loved. I’ve always tried to be cautious because I’m a bit of an easy target.”

“How so?”

“I come from generational wealth and I love giving,” Jaehyun elaborates for you, glancing up at you briefly before watching his fingers knead into your calf. “Even with being cautious, I ended up falling for women who pretended to love me to reap the benefits of being associated with me.”

You hum, frowning a little. You’ve dealt with similar situations, only instead of being used for your money, you were used for your body and loyalty. 

“I was really in love with my ex, even Seulgi befriended her. One day Seulgi overheard her talking to someone on the phone, making plans to get flown out by some professional athlete. I don’t even know the whole story but I broke up with her and blocked her on everything before she could try to explain.”

The situation still hurts him, it’s evident by the sadness that washes over his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jae.” You pout. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jaehyun gives you a small smile. “In hindsight, it was obvious she didn’t actually like me. I just liked her too much to leave without a reason, I guess.”

Story of your life. 

“How’d you get into this business then?” you ask, gesturing between the two of you.

“Like I said, I love giving. I love spoiling someone, typically only one person at a time, though.” Not that you ever really questioned or even thought about it before this very moment, a wave of warmth passes through your chest at knowing you’re the only one that gets to have these moments with Jaehyun. “And my friend has had a few babies and recommended it. I get to spoil someone–you, without having to assume you love me for me and not just my money and without getting my heart broken. Plus the benefits of having someone by my side at events.”

“Am I your baby?” you lilt, cheesing at the way the male fights a stupid grin.

“Yes,” he agrees easily. “You are my baby and I think we got lucky for this to be our first time.” 

You pull out of his hold to sit beside him, propping your elbow up to fit your cheek into your palm, and face him with a grin that tells him you’re about to drag this. “So I can actually call you daddy now? Because I really like how you just called me your baby.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” he laughs it off, moving to pour himself another half glass. “I’m not opposed.”

Your brows lift in surprise. 

“So you have a foot fetish and a daddy kink?” you tease.

“How much have you drunk tonight?”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

He scoffs behind his glass and mumbles, “I enjoy it more than I probably should.”

You let your grin reach your eyes as you just watch him take gulps instead of his usual sips. You’re getting somewhere now and there’s no way you’re going to let the moment slip through your fingers.

“There’s a lot more to enjoy,” you tell him, taking the glass out of his hand to finish the little amount of liquid inside. You like the flavor a little more than before.

Brown eyes follow the trail of your tongue as you lick off a droplet of wine from your bottom lip, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him. 

“Is that so?”

“It’s up to you if you want to find out,” you tell him, still giving him time to reject your advances. Being so close to finally getting a taste of what you’d been wanting has your heart beating faster than before, and the only thing on your mind is finally crossing this line you’ve been straddling. 

“Maybe a preview.”

You sit up to lean into him, hooking a hand behind his neck to pull him down to your level. Testing the waters, you press a soft kiss to his lips, but when he presses back with no hesitation, you easily slot your lips with his. They’re soft and careful, just like the hand that comes up to your side to pull you even closer. 

You almost sigh into the kiss after watching his mouth as he spoke for the last couple of months, tilting your head to deepen it. Jaehyun easily follows, letting you lead the pace and intensity. 

After backing away a couple inches and observing him, Jaehyun’s eyes flutter open and show that he’d definitely be okay with continuing, but with your building desire for him, you don’t trust yourself to lean back in and end the exchange with just an innocent kiss. You did sign a contract after all. 

So you get up, carefully stepping out of the hot tub, grabbing the towel you brought out. You wrap the white cotton around your body and head to the back door, slide it open and walk inside. It smells good, and you let the couple know as much when you’re walking past the kitchen to make it upstairs quickly before you get fussed at. 

A cold shower ought to do it. 

Maybe you and Jaehyun should talk about what happened in the jacuzzi last night. 

You didn’t trust yourself to carry on a conversation after the moment you shared, with his eyes all lidded and lips red and just waiting for you to lean back in a repeat the action. At the dinner table there were silent glances, mostly his eyes zooming in on your mouth as you spoke then meeting your eye when he got caught. 

Everyone did their own thing today for the most part. Taeyong woke you up and you all had breakfast as a group, but after that, your cousin and his girlfriend said they’d be back later and walked out of the house. They came back when it was about to be dark.

Jaehyun claimed he had some work that he actually couldn’t wait until getting back into the office to do and disappeared into his room, leaving you to enjoy your second to last full day at the beach house by yourself. You sat out on the beach for hours until the sun exhausted you, finished your book, had a long FaceTime call with Sooyoung as you cooked and ate lunch, then took a nap until Taeyong and Seulgi got back in. 

You’d caught maybe two glimpses of your sugar daddy throughout the day before dinner, and while he conversed with you all, there was still something off. 

A loud crack of lightning jolts you out of your thoughts as you lay on your back in bed. Followed by thunder a few seconds later. You blink up, practically glaring at the sky like you could see it through the white ceiling. 

Heavy rainfall begins. 

You sigh deeply, but then the dramatic exhale is cut short when you remember the short interaction you had with the man on the other side of the bathroom your first night here. You slip your robe onto your body, slide into your slippers and grab your phone before walking through the bathroom and knocking on the door opposite of yours. 

It’s silent on the other end, even after another round of knocks, but the door gives in when you twist the knob experimentally. The sight of Jaehyun with his back against his headboard and laptop on his lap in dim lighting isn’t a shocking one. He’s got AirPods in, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song is playing, and you guess they’re on noise cancellation mode when you call out his name.

In your best attempt to not startle Jaehyun since his peripheral vision is blocked by his glasses, you pat the bed to get his attention, and that does the trick. His head quickly turns in your direction, and when he catches your gaze, he plucks one of his AirPods out. 

You point to the window to his right. “It’s storming.”

“It is,” he says matter-of-factly with a nod. After a moment of silence, his facial expression morphs into one of understanding. “Oh. It is. ”

“Is your bed still fair game?” you ask, nervous around him for the first time since you two met. “I won’t interrupt,” you gesture at his laptop.

“I was just finishing up, actually.” 

You take that as a yes. 

He saves whatever he was working on before shutting the technology down and tucking in under his bed. His glasses come off and are set on his nightstand. You kick your slippers off as he does so, shrugging off your robe to drape it over the chair at the desk in the corner. 

When you turn back towards the bed, Jaehyun’s giving your short, silky pajama set a onceover, averting his gaze when he realizes you’ve noticed and flipping the corner of the comforter over as an invitation for you to make yourself comfortable. And you do just that. 

“Not judging,” Jaehyun disclaims. “But you’re genuinely afraid of storms?”

Pausing in the midst of snuggling under his covers, you check to see if he is judging or not. His expression is neutral, so you’ll take his word. 

“Yep.” You pop the ‘p’, getting back to getting comfortable. “Just the loud ones like tonight.”

All Jaehyun does is nod in understanding. 

The two of you have had your fair share of silence while together, but up until right now, the silence has never been loud. He’s not acting standoffish or anything, but his lack of eye contact is something you’re not used to. And his body language is similar to when you’d first met.

You know you should say something because you know it’s about last night and you were the one who initiated the kiss, but now that you’re here, in his bed beside him, you kind of just want to pretend like it didn’t happen if he isn’t going to mention it himself. Is that the right thing to do? You doubt it. 

But is that exactly what you’re about to do? Absolutely. 

“When’s the last time you shared a bed with a woman?” you ask, turning towards his still seated up body with perfect posture. 

“Some months,” he confirms your suspicions. 

“Do you snore?”

He shakes his head. “I do not.”

Another bout of silence. 

“Are you uncomfortable with me in your bed?” you finally prompt. And when Jaehyun looks at you in confusion, you gesture at the clear difference in how the two of you are positioned. “Or are you just not ready to go to sleep yet?”

“No you’re fine,” Jaehyun reassures you, standing up in the process. “I just haven’t gotten ready for bed yet.”

You nod towards the bathroom. “I’ll be here.” 

A good ten minutes later Jaehyun’s back in his room, jeans and t-shirt gone and now shirtless with loose shorts on. You put your phone down on the nightstand and turn towards his side of the bed in time with him slipping under the covers. 

“Do you need me to keep the light on?”

You shake your head. “You can turn it off.”

Then it’s pitch black, not even the moonlight peeking through the blinds or curtains. And a loud crash of lightning sounds, making your body convulse. 

You laugh it off, though unable to see the worried expression you’re being given.

“How can I make this less scary for you?” Jaehyun prompts after a moment, voice low and hesitant. 

“How tired are you?”

“Barely.”

“Distractions always work,” you supply. Usually you’d put noise cancellation headphones in when you’re alone because this is kind of an embarrassing fear to have so no one really knows about it. Taeyong was aware when you were kids, but as far as you know, he thinks you’ve outgrown the fear. You used the storm as an excuse to come see Jaehyun and get rid of the air between the two of you but you’d only thought as far as just being in the same room as him. 

“Which kind?”

You shrug. “We can talk. Watch a movie or something. Being held always helps, too.”

“We can touch on what happened last night.”

You’re actually surprised he brought it up himself.

“What about last night, exactly?” 

Jaehyun lets out an unamused exhale through his nose. “Let’s not play dumb.”

The tone you just received is new and it admittedly does something to you. 

Here you are, comfortable in bed with the man of your desires, who’s only clad in shorts. There’s really nothing to talk about, in your opinion. You both wanted what happened last night and you want it again. Right now. 

You scoot closer to his warm body, your knees gently colliding with his thighs. Jaehyun stays still, even when you reach out, using the slight sight of his silhouette as a guide to run a hand down his shoulder to his defined chest, your fingertips brushing against his nipple. 

“I’m not,” you tell him, letting your hand continue down his torso. “A few things took place last night.”

“But you know–”

“I remember you calling me your baby,” you interrupt. Your digits stop when they get to the waistband of his bottoms. “Which I enjoyed. A lot.”

Jaehyun’s resolve starts to crumble. He doesn’t say anything, allowing you to continue your recall of last night’s events along with your light touches, which are now going back up his stomach. 

“And then I gave you something to enjoy. Is that what you want to talk about?” You curl your hand around the side of his neck, playing with the hairs at his nape. Jaehyun relaxes more into your touch, but you receive no answer to your question. “We could pretend it never happened, if you want.”

“I don’t,” he finally says, and you assume he’s responding to the suggestion.

“Or it could happen again.” You finish the thought, moving your thumb to brush it against his pouty bottom lip. “But I don’t think there’s much more to talk about, Jae.”

A strong hand pulls you into his body by your back before lips crash into yours. You smile as you let him control the kiss, satisfied with breaking him enough for him to initiate it. Your fingers go back into Jaehyun’s hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp as you open your mouth for his searching tongue. His mouth nor his hold are rough, just firm, and you practically melt into him.

His kisses are noisy, the sound of his lips smacking against yours practically echoing in the spacious room. The rainfall is still heavy but the crashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder sound further away than before.

He lets out a stuttered breath at the tug of his scalp, nipping your bottom lip in retaliation as his hand leisurely slips down to the back of your knee to hike your leg up around his waist. 

You tilt your head up to catch your breath and Jaehyun uses the opportunity to use his nose to guide him down to your neck before pressing open mouthed kisses over a sensitive pulse point. And when you quietly moan, it only spurs him on to circle his tongue around it.

Whimpering out his name, you pull him flush against you by your leg and the hand in his hair. He continues to focus on that spot on your neck, nipping and sucking lightly but with enough bite to have your silk begin sticking to the apex of your thighs. And it’s almost like he can tell, with how his hand slides across the smooth fabric over your hips to rest on your ass, the tips of his fingers centimeters away from the mess he’s creating. 

Using his hair, you guide his lips back up to yours for a slower, wetter kiss that you lead this time. And Jaehyun just follows, letting you suck on his tongue as he gropes you, unintentionally rubbing over right where you want him and pulling a gasp out your mouth. You push back to feel more and this time it’s intentional on both of your parts, the tip of his finger shallowly dipping into your silk clad entrance. 

Your moan brings him back to reality, it seems, because soon his hand is slowly retracting, finding the side of your face to give you a couple more kisses that clearly signal the end of the moment. You want to pull him back in when his body starts to retract, want to settle on top of him and go further, but you don’t. 

You can’t.

There’s some rummaging and the light of the television screen ahead illuminates the room as you wrap your head around the moment that just passed.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Jaehyun asks in a rough voice that makes your stomach turn. His body turned so that he’s laying on his back, one arm behind his head while the other scrolls through streaming services.

“Uh.” You clear your throat. “Something funny, I guess.”

He chooses a romantic comedy from the early 2000s and pulls you back into him, wrapping an arm around you so you can rest your head on his chest. 

The storm has calmed down by now, but your mind is anything but calm.

Your eyes slowly flutter open and it takes a moment to realize your surroundings are different from what you’ve gotten used to this past week. And then you’re aware of a weight draped over your waist, and you remember the storm, the kiss, and the cuddling.

The digital clock on the nightstand reads 10:40 a.m and from a glance behind you, Jaehyun is still asleep. You’re usually awake and downstairs an hour earlier than this, and he’s always drinking a cup of coffee when you make it to the kitchen. 

You do feel well rested.

It’s easy to slip out of his hold and get your day–your last full day here– started. You take a shower, throw on a matching short set and head downstairs, meeting Taeyong and Seulgi in the kitchen. 

“Sleep well?” Taeyong asks, handing you a mug. 

“I did.” You nod. You pour some coffee into the ceramic, followed by creamer and agave. “The storm put me to sleep.”

Your cousin eyes you for a moment and you sip from your mug, raising a brow. 

“You wanna join me on the beach today?” Seulgi prompts, cutting the silent communication off and turning your attention to her. “Let the guys bond while we have our own day?”

Jaehyun rounds the corner and enters the kitchen at that moment, brow raised at his cousin’s last words. Taeyong also hands him a mug, the mug Jaehyun’s used every morning, to which the brunet thanks him for. 

“Is that okay with you?” you ask, momentarily distracted by your sugar daddy sleepily rubbing his bare chest as he fills his cup with coffee. You figure she’d already run this plan by Taeyong. Jaehyun nods, sending you a gentle smile.

You return the nod and give your attention back to Seulgi. “Sounds perfect. What do you have planned?” 

The pair of you end up walking along the shore, picking up the prettiest seashells you can find. It’s nice to bond with her without anyone else around, though it was quiet at first.

“Has Jaehyun been treating you well?” she asks, catching you off guard. 

You’re not sure if she means during your stay here or in general, if Taeyong eventually let her know, so you just nod and answer as vaguely as possible. “He has. He’s very kind.”

“I was a bit nervous he’d be his usual uninterested self but I had hope he’d be a good host to you,” Seulgi admits with a relieved laugh. “He’s not the most social, though he does seem to talk to you pretty easily.”

“It’s my charm.” You flip your hair playfully. “Working with kids, you’ve got to be likable and easy to talk to. But yeah, he’s been great company.”

You bend down at the sight of a really pretty shell with pink on it, dusting it off to examine if it’s worth taking back with you before putting it in your little bag. 

“I know you mentioned not dating anyone, but are you interested? Like, are you going out on dates and stuff or just not feeling it at all right now?”

“I’m going on dates,” you tell her. You technically go on dates with Jaehyun, “but I’m not looking to be in a relationship just yet. If it happens organically I’m not opposed, but it’s not exactly high on my list at the moment.”

She hums in understanding and nods, then changes the subject to how she doesn’t know where her mental health would be without this beach house because it’s her happy place. 

--

Tonight is your last night of freedom. The only connection you’ve had to your work life for the last week is Jisung with his updates. He’s decided to send you daily pictures of your baby and they make you miss her a little more. 

The men took it upon themselves to make dinner and it was ready by the time you and Seulgi got back in, the sun almost completely set. You appreciate how almost every meal you’ve eaten since being here has been as a group at the table, barely any phone usage (Jaehyun stopped checking his notifications so often, deciding to wait until everyone was done in the kitchen–all it took was a stern look from you when he grabbed it as soon as it pinged one night), just conversation and laughter.

It’s planned for you all to come back during your next break from work, which will be during the summer, and it works out perfectly for everyone else. 

You don’t live close enough to a body of water you could submerge into, so on this last night, you’re taking advantage of the jacuzzi again. 

The couple went upstairs soon after dinner to watch a movie, taking popcorn with them and all. They invited you and Jaehyun, but you told them your plan for the night and Jaehyun just declined. 

He’s probably doing last minute work or just watching something on tv or his phone, but you’d prefer his company right now. So you grab your phone off of the side table and scroll to his message thread. 

[10:01pm] you: Come join me in the jacuzzi?

You wait for a response for a couple of minutes, but when you don’t get one, you just put your phone back with a small sigh. But then you get bored and pick your phone back up to scroll through your explore page. 

A few minutes into scrolling, the back door slides open and closed, and Jaehyun’s making his way towards you with swim trunks and a towel when you take a look behind you. 

“I thought you might not join me tonight,” you admit, putting your phone aside, for good this time. 

He shakes his head, dropping his towel and phone on the table before stepping inside the jacuzzi. 

“When have I ever not given you what you wanted?” 

At your silence, Jaehyun chuckles, settling down at a distance that isn’t far but far enough in your opinion. Especially after how close you two got last night. 

That’s actually your answer to his question that you guess was supposed to be rhetorical. 

“Last night.”

His brows furrow, genuinely confused. 

And it’s not like you asked him for what you wanted. You didn’t tell him you wanted to go further than the kisses you shared. Didn’t ask him to stick his hand in your shorts and relieve you of what you’ve been missing for what didn’t feel like a long time until you were that close to him. 

“You didn’t give me what I wanted last night,” you explain with a shrug. “But it’s nothing, really.”

Giving Jaehyun the time to make sense of your vague explanation, you extend your legs and flutter them in the water. You’re going to miss this place. You love your kids, but it’s so peaceful and lighthearted here. Well, for the most part. 

“I don’t want to assume you’re alluding to what I think you are, but–” His voice is deeper than you’ve heard yet, almost strained.

“I am,” you hum. You’ve been shown that he wants you in similar ways that you want him. Last night was too much yet not nearly enough. “I know what I want and I’m almost positive you want the same thing.”

“You also know we signed a contract.”

“We’re also two consenting adults,” you remind him.

“Who signed a contract that states there won’t be a sexual relationship between us,” Jaehyun retorts. It’s been a while since you’ve seen such a stern, serious facial expression on his face. “A kiss or two is one thing but–”

“Jaehyun–”

“While I don’t think you’d try to blackmail me or send me to court for anything,” he interrupts right back, and you sigh as you listen to the rest of his statement, “a breach in the contract would allow for that and I have too much to lose.”

You take a steadying breath, understanding where he’s coming from and not taking his words personally. Of course you wouldn’t do that to him, you hadn’t even thought of that scenario until he just brought it up. All you know is he is the first man in over a year to make you want to break your abstinence and if there is a way around this you’ll take it. 

“Answer this with a simple yes or no: is the feeling mutual?”

His pretty lips part to say something other than one of the two word options you gave him, getting him a pointed look. 

He scrubs his face and sighs. “Yes.”

You didn’t think it would stress him out this much. You didn’t forget about or ignore the agreement between the two of you. You just wanted to let him know you’re definitely down for a revision. 

“You can record me giving my consent, then we can make a new contract,” you suggest. He looks at you for a moment, like he’s processing. “If you want this to happen, get your phone. If you don’t, this conversation never happened.”

Jaehyun reaches behind him for his phone, taps the screen a few times before aiming the mic towards you. You state your first and last name, the date, and your consent while maintaining eye contact with him so he knows you do care about his career and reputation and your desires are sexual, even a little emotional. But not manipulative. 

He stops the recording then puts the device back where he got it from. His body language is less tense than before, the air lighter between the pair of you. Jaehyun’s worries are gone, and that’s all you wanted.

“Any more qualms, Mr. Jung?”

By the way he licks his lips, you’re going to assume he likes being addressed as such. 

“Just one,” Jaehyun begins, grabbing your calf to bring your foot to his lap, giving it the same treatment from the other night, digging his thumbs into the sole. You lift a brow, not actually expecting another issue. “Your abstinence.”

Bless him for caring about you and not just getting his dick wet. It only makes your desire for him grow.

His thumb presses into the arch of your foot and your back almost arches, a muted airy noise leaving your mouth. And by the glint in his eyes, he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I already told you,” you exhale, relaxing your head back even more. “I know what I want. I can break it whenever I’d like.”

“You think I’m worth it?”

You do. You really do. 

“I think you should show me that you are.” 

Smiling that stupidly attractive half smile of his, Jaehyun pushes into that pressure point again, loving the way you visibly hold back a sound of pleasure, before your leg is lifted higher and higher, until his lips make contact with your heel in a sweet kiss. 

“You think so?”

He just continues to kiss upward as you watch him in anticipation and desire. 

“I knew it.” Your voice is a lot more airy than accusatory than you’d intended, Jaehyun’s brow lifting in response since his mouth is occupied with shallowly sucking your big toe into his mouth. “Knew you had a thing for feet.”

Jaehyun laughs, watching you just as closely as you watch him. His tongue swirls around the tip and your teeth worry at your bottom lip. There’s already a dark look in his eyes.

“I don’t.” He sets your foot down gently and his arms fall to his sides after one last peck to your arch, body language open and inviting. “I just have a thing for you.”

“Smooth.”

“Honest,” Jaehyun counters. “Come here.”

You sit up carefully and make your way to his side of the tub. You settle on his lap, stomach twisting. Images of your first meeting with him flash through your mind, and you almost laugh at how much has changed between the two of you since that night.

A strong grip on your hips pulls you out of your thoughts when they pull you in, aligning your hips and settling your core right atop his semi. 

“Do you know how hard it was to pull away from you last night?” His deep voice is like velvet so close to your ears as he guides your hands up to rest on his shoulders. 

“It broke my heart when you did.” 

You wanted nothing more than his fingers knuckle deep in you when he brushed over your core, and now, with the position you’re in, you just want him inside of you. 

Apologetic hands caress your hips and waist, up and down. “I know, baby.” You lick your lips, eyes getting heavy at how easily the term of endearment rolls off his tongue and how nice it sounds to be on the receiving end. “I had to, though.”

“I know,” you sigh.

He nudges your nose with his own before he slants his lips over yours. There’s more passion, more desperation in this kiss now that there are no hindrances. His tongue laps against your bottom lip before it licks your own, pulling a low whine out of you as the wet muscles circle around each other slowly, filthily. His hands aren’t hesitant, simply caressing as they please.

“You want me to make it up to you?”

He’s already forgiven, but you nod anyway. “How will you?”

“I’m going to Bali in two weeks and I could fly you out to meet me,” Jaehyun suggests, peppering open mouthed kisses down your neck. “You can get massages, eat fresh fruit off of platters in the pool, do yoga with baby goats–” he lists and you hum at the plan and the delicate way his lips and tongue caress your skin. “And whatever else you want while I’m in meetings then we’ll go out once I’m done. I’ll show you my favorite spots and we can go anywhere you’re interested in.”

You wouldn’t mind missing a few days of work for that. 

“And what else?”

 An amused smile spreads against your skin before Jaehyun nips at your neck, laving his tongue over the bite. “I’ll add more money for the next few weeks.”

“What else?” you pant, gripping his locks. 

The knot keeping your bikini top together is slowly pulled apart until the man underneath you can peel it off of you and set it to the side, taking a quick moment to appreciate the sight of your breasts before he dips down to run his tongue over your nipple. The tip of his wet muscle circles the nub a few times, then it’s sucked into his mouth and your grip gets even tighter. The hand that isn’t pressing into the middle of your back to keep you close to his mouth comes up to the unoccupied side of your chest to squeeze and pull at.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, your hips slowly grind down against his hardening dick, trying to relieve the ache that’s only getting more intense the longer your breasts are fondled and sucked. You think you might actually come from this alone. 

Jaehyun switches sides of your chest, repeating the same attention and affection. His tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers bringing increasing pleasure to your body. 

“Jae–” you whimper desperately, grinding harder, the water surrounding your bodies splashing more intensely. 

He hums, sliding his hand down your back and around to your hip, gripping the soft flesh to halt the movement of your lower half. He unlatches from your chest and lightly pushes you off of his lap and you blindly follow his lead as he guides you to turn and bend over the edge of the jacuzzi. 

It’s quiet for a while after you bend over, so you look behind you to catch Jaehyun admiring the shape of your ass and hips and how easily you get into position for him. His hands grasp both cheeks, a low growl rumbling from his chest. Glancing down his body, you see his dick straining against the front of his swim trunks.

“I can make it up to you right here,” Jaehyun offers, breaking the tunnel vision he had on your shape to catch your eye. “Or we can go upstairs.”

A bed would be more comfortable and convenient, so you give it a moment of thought while the man behind you continues to trace the curves of your body. All he has to do is untie your bikini bottoms or push them to the side right now. Walking upstairs seems like too long of a process.

“Here,” you decide. 

And that’s all you needed to say for him to pull the strings on both sides of your hips to unravel the bows you tied earlier. The soaked bottoms get discarder right along with your top. Two fingertips glide up and down your wet slit a couple of times before they draw slow, wide circles over your clit. 

“You wanted me so bad you couldn’t wait long enough to go back inside?” Jaehyun’s guttural voice asks close to your ear, his body towering over your own, his chest against your back. He hardly gives you a chance to respond before the same fingers plunge into your pussy.

“Shit,” you hiss, nodding at his question. “Wanted you so bad.”

Wet kisses trail down your spine as his hand picks up a steady pace. It feels so good to have his thicker, longer fingers deep inside of you when your own digits don’t fill you up as well or hit the same spots.

The coil in your stomach tightens embarrassingly fast and your moans get harder to suppress when his speed and force increase. Your head hangs forward, eyes closed as you focus on the feeling Jaehyun is bringing you with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. It’s unlikely the couple will hear you out here, or anyone since there is a lot of space in between the beach houses. You just don’t want to chance it. 

But when he carefully sinks a third finger into your cunt, it’s not as easy to control your volume.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, body going tense. 

“Too much?” Jaehyun asks, attentive yet still distracted by the way you suck his digits in. You shake your head. He starts back up slowly, giving you time to adjust and for the discomfort to pass before speeding up again when you moan in pleasure. “Need you to come around my fingers, okay baby?”

Jaehyun hums in content at how your lower half practically chases him when he barely pulls away. He reaches around with his other hand to find your clit, rubbing tight circles with a pressure that’s perfect, and he gets what he wants. 

Your breath stutters when you feel the wave of intense pleasure wash over you, and you reach your first climax in a low groan, the noise swallowed by the jets in the hottub and the squelching of Jaehyun’s digits as they move up and down since the vice grip your walls have on them leave little room for him to thrust them in and out of you at this point. Your legs shake and your fingers fail to grip the slippery edge of the jacuzzi. 

When you begin to come back down, sighs of content leaving your mouth, Jaehyun slowly retracts his hands and gives you a moment. There’s rustling behind you, and you sneak a glance back. 

He’s naked and spreading your essence up and down his shaft, his bottom lip hanging in pleasure. He’s long and thick, but not in an intimidating way. You make a move to turn around, wanting to replace his hand with your own and your mouth, but his free hand stops you. 

“I wanna suck your dick,” you tell him, yet still get back into position with your ass stuck out for him and your upper body supported by your forearms. 

“Think you can wait until I’m about to come?”  Jaehyun asks, rubbing his thumb over your entrance, catching the essence that drips from your fluttering hole. “Really wanna be inside you now.”

You nod again, fine with going with whatever he wants to do and how he wants to do it. You have no complaints about him being inside of you even sooner. 

He pushes in slowly, enjoying the gasp you let out as well as the view of him disappearing into you inch by inch. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” you say weakly, licking your dry lips. 

Jaehyun grabs your hips, both to keep you in place and give him leverage, then begins slowly pulling out and thrusting back in until your walls have engulfed him fully. 

He lets out a deep exhale, head tipped back, and gives you a moment to adjust to him. The way he fills you up is unlike anything you’ve felt before and you don’t want to wait any longer. 

“Move.” You push back to emphasize that you’re ready. “Please.”

His movements are fluid yet careful, not too lost in his own pleasure with how snug and wet your walls are around him, but Jaehyun watches and listens so he can make sure you feel nothing but pleasure and enjoy every moment. 

Your head hangs low as you get accustomed to the delicious stretch, the friction. 

“Lift your knee up for me, baby,” Jaehyun gently commands, tapping the back of your thigh. 

You settle your knee beside your elbow, and that’s when he hits that spot within you that makes your arch back even more. 

“Oh. Fuck,” you cry, to which Jaehyun hums at. 

“Right there?” he asks, a groan threatening to slip out at how your walls flutter around his cock deliciously. 

You nod your head aggressively, squeezing your fists together since you’ve failed to grip the edge of the tub with your slippery hands. 

“Everything about you is just so pretty,” he compliments, sounding like he’s in awe as he gives you even slower, deeper strokes, keeping the angle that keeps you keening. “Pretty pussy,” A thick droplet of spit lands on your asshole then his thumb traces your rim a few times, catching your reaction before the tip breaches the surface. “Pretty body.”

“Oh—shit,” you moan brokenly. “Yes.”

“And you make such pretty sounds for me.”

His thumb pushes further into you and your face contorts in pleasure. 

“What the fuck, Jaehyun?” you whine, the pleasure almost becoming too much at this point. His thick, long dick hitting all the places you need, his thumb lazily wiggling inside of your ass, his velvety voice. You’re so close it almost hurts.

He just laughs under his breath, using his grip on your waist to pull you back, silently telling you to move. 

Your hips meet his strokes halfway, your eyes closed and practically rolled back as you match his rhythm to get you closer to coming around him then having him in your mouth.

“You feel so good, baby.” His compliments only urge you to fuck back harder, the drop of your hips creating a loud slapping noise that only turns you on even more. Jaehyun lets you take over for the most part, thrusts lacking the power behind them so he can focus on caressing your ass, hip, and waist with his head dropped back and eyes closed. “Just like that.”

You transfer most of your weight to one arm, starting with tight, quick circle against your clit. Your breath quickens and you bite your lip to stop the sounds that want to come out.

“Let me hear you.” Jaehyun says. “Need to hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your fingers work faster, to the point of just swiping the bundle of nerves back and forth and cries tumble from your lips, pleas and curses mixed in. 

“I’m gonna–” you begin to confess, but the pleasure heightens ten-fold and you let out a dry sob.

“Go ahead,” Jaehyun encourages, putting more effort into his thrusts again, moving his thumb in and out of you. 

You have to quickly catch yourself and hold your body up with both arms again when the feeling overcomes you. You’re doing your best to stay up when your body starts to vibrate, especially when your walls become more sensitive to his thrusts. Your walls spasm around his cock and there’s a harmony of voiced pleasure. 

Jaehyun pulls out when your hand starts pushing at his lower abdomen, starting to feel over stimulated. His hand slowly strokes his length to maintain his pleasure, watching you sink to your knees and he gives you the time you need to catch your breath and come back to the moment with him. 

“You feeling okay?” he asks in a gentle voice, helping you turn towards him with his free hand. He cups your chin, looking down at you with blown out eyes. You nod, head still fuzzy from your climax, wrapping your hands around the back of his thighs to pull him in closer, mouth cracking open to finally have him in your mouth. Jaehyun groans at the sight and taps the tip on your flattened tongue a couple times before you wrap your lips around him. He tastes like you and an underlying musk that makes you lave your tongue around the underside of his cock, caressing that vein that has him sighing. 

You wrap your hand around the base, moving his own hand out of the way, and start pumping your fist. Your attention is mostly at his tip, sucking and licking and moaning around him because you want him to come, too. 

Looking up at him, his lip is caught in between his teeth and he’s looking down at you with so much desire in his eyes. 

“Shit,” Jaehyun says to himself, breathlessly. You bob your head back and forth, sinking further and further down his shaft until his tip causes the back of your throat to flutter. “Just like that, baby. Fuck.”

His hips shallowly thrust forward, enjoying the feeling of your throat spasming around his cock too much to not chase it, and before you know it, both of his hands are gently holding your head in place and his grunts are turning into moans. He doesn’t fuck your face, though you absolutely wouldn’t have minded, but he picks up his pace. You massage the bottom of his shaft with your tongue and pull him in even closer by his thighs. 

“You want me to pull out?” he asks while he can still think straight. You shake your head no the best you can with him in your mouth, and that’s all he needs. His hips still, then ropes of cum land on the back of your tongue. 

Your hand comes back to milk the rest of his cum out, your mouth sucks until his shaft gets too sensitive and Jaehyun has to pull out. As he catches his breath, grip loosening to the point of his hands dropping, you swallow your mouthful and wipe the excess fluids off your mouth and chin. 

Jaehyun helps you back up to your feet and guides you to sit on the ledge, observing your fucked-out expression that mirrors his own. You look up at him with a content smile that lets him know he was definitely worth it. He gets your towel to wipe what your hands couldn’t get off of your face, smiling at the way you close your eyes and lift your chin up with a sigh. 

“Worth it?” he asks softly, now caressing your lips with his thumb. 

You hum, nodding. 

“Do you want to stay here a little longer or are you ready to go upstairs?” 

“I’m ready.” 

He passes you your towel and you thank him. You wrap the cotton around your body and he wraps his around his waist before you both grab your belongings and make your way back inside. 

“You can take your shower first,” Jaehyun says when you make it upstairs, about to pass your door. You nod, still not all the way in the present, twisting the doorknob. “And we can watch a movie in my room when we’re both clean.”

You smile up at him, nodding a little harder. He hesitates for a split second before he dips down to give you a lingering kiss, then he’s on his way to his room. 

After your long, hot shower, hygiene and skincare routine, you lightly knock on Jaehyun’s door before entering. He’s seated at his desk, scrolling on his phone until he looks up at you and stands, grabbing another towel. 

“Pick out a movie for us?” 

“Okay.”

The door shuts behind him and you make yourself at home and get comfortable on the same side of the bed you were on last night. You scroll through Netflix and Hulu only to end up having to choose between a psychological thriller you heard a lot of good reviews on and another romantic comedy. You’ll let him choose when he comes back because you don’t know which one is more his taste. 

He ends up choosing the psychological thriller because apparently he’s actually been meaning to watch it but just hadn’t found the time yet.

The rest of the night is spent watching the movie, trying to understand it and bounce ideas off of each other on the meaning of certain scenes, then when you can’t control your yawns and how heavy your lids are, you call it a night. Lights and the tv are turned off before Jaehyun pulls you in for chaste kiss that lingers, and you fall asleep with your head on his chest. 

For the second morning in a row, you wake up in the loose hold of Jaehyun. You know you slept in again, you don’t even have to look at the time. But you do anyway, because you and Taeyong are meant to be on the road no later than one this afternoon. 

It’s only a little past ten, and anything you don’t need to use today is already packed. You have a little more time to enjoy the moment. 

Jaehyun stirs awake behind you, asking you what time it is. He’s set to leave a little later than you, so when you tell him, he hums and pulls you into his chest more.

“They’re gonna wonder where we are,” you tell him, even though you really don’t care. The warmth of his chest on your back and being so close to the man you’ve desired for the last month is enough to keep you here a little longer.

“Seulgi’s been trying to set us up,” Jaehyun informs you huskily. “She’s fine.”

You blink. “She’s been what?” 

“Why do you think we’ve been left alone as much as we have?”

Now certain conversations make more sense. Her ploy may not have worked in the exact way she thought it would, but it definitely worked. And now that you think about it, Taeyong’s been giving you looks the last couple of days too, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in on it after a while. 

“Oh, she’s good.”

“Not really,” he laughs. “I saw right through her. I don’t know how you didn’t.”

“My attention was elsewhere.”

“You’re right.” He tightens his arm around you even more, now so close that you can feel a hardness poke the back of your thigh. “It was on seducing me.”

You suck your teeth and roll your eyes, though he’s technically correct.

“And it worked.” You wiggle back into his arousal, enjoying his hum of appreciation.

“Baby it worked before you even started trying.” He takes hold of your hip to pull your ass back again. “This trip just made it obvious you wanted me and gave me peace of mind to go through with it.”

You love how much more comfortable he is with his words and affection towards you. The pet names, the cuddling. The directness of his desires. 

“When’s our next date?” you ask, wondering how long it’ll be before you could possibly be in this position again. 

“Probably Saturday. I have a busy week ahead since someone wouldn’t let me work.”

You scoff. He had plenty of time the other day to get his work done. “Are you complaining?” 

Laughing, he presses a less than innocent kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Not at all.” 

“Taeyong’s gonna kill me if I’m late,” you sigh after a while of enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin, but your words don’t match your actions, your hand coming up to the back of his head to feel more of his opened mouth kisses. “I should probably start getting ready.”

“Probably,” Jaehyun agrees. But he continues his ministrations on your neck, slipping a hand under your shirt and up to your breast, groping the mound. “Is that what you want to do, though?”

“Not really,” you sigh, failing to stop yourself from arching into his touch. “But I’d hate to be inconsiderate.”

It pains you to slowly pull yourself out of his hold, but Taeyong is the last person you want to get chewed out and lectured by. With a small stretch, you get out of his bed and sneak a glance behind you to see him looking at you with desire and a cute pout. 

“Are you staying in bed or are you gonna get ready with me?” 

You still want to spend more time with him regardless of what the two of you are doing. 

He follows you into the bathroom and the two of you stand side by side, brushing your teeth in a comfortable silence. Jaehyun finishes his morning routine quicker than you, and takes the opportunity to stand behind you and fit his chin in the crook of your neck, arms sliding forward to encircle your waist. He simply watches you pat your face dry with a paper towel, sending you a closed-lip smile when you lift a curious brow at him. This extent of affection from him is new, and you’re not too sure how you expected your dynamic to change after crossing the line last night, but this wasn’t quite it. 

Not that you’re complaining. 

But when he straightens up some, his hard chest pressing against your back, you’re reminded of his morning wood, and everything makes a little more sense. 

“Did all of your self control die last night?” you joke, twisting the top of your serum off. 

He chuckles, and surprisingly nods. Burying his face into your neck now, he’s back to pressing tempting kisses on your skin, paying closer attention to the spot that made your breath audibly hitch. 

“Would you like me to stop?”

“No.” You shake your head. You sit the bottle in your hand back down on the countertop and lean back into his touch. You suddenly don’t have the mind to continue your skincare routine. “I like it.”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun lilts, though one of his hands creeps under your shirt. He pinches your nipple, eliciting a tiny moan from you. “Maybe I should stop. Wouldn’t want to be inconsiderate.”

You hum in discontent. “Please don’t.” Gently grabbing his hair, you pull him out of your neck so you can kiss him. Arousal stirs in your abdomen all over again and you want nothing more than for him to continue kissing you, touching you. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” He voices his surprise. It really didn’t take much. “Are you sure you want to keep him waiting?”

Even though you’ll most likely be seeing him again in less than a week, it’s just so tempting to stay in this bubble with Jaehyun a little longer. To get your fix of what you’d finally indulged in last night. And honestly, being a little late won’t hurt anyone. 

“We can make it quick?” you ask more than state, turning around in his hold to look up at him with inquisitive eyes. Taking steps forward, he follows your lead and walks backwards back into his room. 

“I can try,” he finally says after you’ve stripped your clothes off, eyeing your body. You move to his shorts next and he allows you to pull them down before taking over to kick them off his ankles. “Lay down for me.”

He crawls over you, knees in between your legs as he hovers over you, putting his weight on one forearm beside your head. The kiss you share is languid yet sloppy, your tongues colliding and twirling around one another’s as his free hand immediately finds its way in between your legs, his middle finger running down your slit before sliding inside of you. 

You break away from the kiss to catch your breath, chest already heaving up and down and it draws his attention, his mouth attaching to your nipple. Jaehyun sucks and nibbles on your nubs, inserting his ring finger in your pussy and pulling out a whine from your throat. His mouth continues to travel south until he reaches the apex of your thighs, taking a moment to watch the way your walls stretch around his fingers before sucking your clit into his mouth, giving it kitten licks. 

You know you asked him to make it quick, but when he starts to pull away too soon, you push his head back in between your thighs and start rolling your hips, mouth agape with the smallest of moans and praise spewing out as you try to keep your volume down. You’re already so close, and by the way your walls flutter around his digits, Jaehyun understands as much and licks and sucks at your clit with more intent, stretching you out even more with his pointer finger. 

Your orgasm is quiet, your fist blocking the sounds that threaten to come out of your mouth, lower body shaking. He lets you ride the feeling, lazily lapping at the wetness that gushes out past his fingers, circling the tip of his tongue against your clit before carefully pulling his digits out. 

Wiping your essence on the comforter, Jaehyun comes back up to eye level with you, grinning down at your dazed expression, pecking your lips. He lines his tip up with your hole and studies you as he breaches your entrance, drinking up the furrow in your brows and lewd grimace that washes over your face. The pace he sets once he’s bottomed out is so different from last night, his thrusts quicker, more shallow, but still reaching all the right places. 

You whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Oh, my God.” Breasts bouncing from the force of his hips clashing into yours, you just take the onslaught of pleasure. “Fuck, Jaehyun.”

“Love how you say my name, baby,” Jaehyun hums, dipping down to scatter kisses and nibbles on your jaw. His voice is too stable and he’s so composed you compared to you and you already feel your second orgasm approaching. You need him to come with you. 

Your leg is lifted to drape over his shoulder and your breath stops for a second.

“Daddy,” you moan wantonly, eyes rolling back before you can see the way his eyes get darker and his control weakens. But you definitely feel how much harder he fucks you, how his movements lose a little finesse. “So good. Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come,” you ramble in his ear, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. 

“Yeah?” he grunts, out of breath now. Fingertips find your clit and rub quick, tight circles. “Gonna come all over my dick?”

You nod violently. “Yes. Yes yes yes,” you cry as quietly as possible, grabbing his hair to center you, trying not to pull too hard. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you chant as your walls flutter around his dick, body tensing before shuddering. 

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans. He grips your hip tight enough to bruise, but the pain hardly registers when he kissing you hungrily and your walls start becoming progressively more sensitive to the way his thick cock drags against them. It only takes a few more intense thrusts for him to bottom out harshly and release inside of you with the deepest moan that you swallow, that makes you clench around him. 

Heavy breathing is all that’s heard for a while. He gradually softens inside of you as you catch your breath. Jaehyun’s head falls into your neck, his hand gently bringing your leg back down to the bed. 

“Quick enough?”

—

Seulgi has a wide smile taking up half of her face when she walks into the kitchen. 

“What?” Taeyong asks, suspicious. 

She points up and remains silent so he can hear the tell tale sound of skin slapping and muffled pleasure. “They’re definitely fucking.”

He immediately regrets asking.

:) v self indulgent. but look at me posting a little more consistently. i hope you all enjoy, feedback is always accepted and appreciated (you could always buy me kofi too uwu ily) <3

[pucksandpower]

Head Over Heels

Charles Leclerc x Vasseur!Reader x Carlos Sainz

Summary: in which Charles and Carlos are head over heels for you and you’re still painfully oblivious despite their best efforts

Warnings: this is a poly fic, overwhelming amounts of fluff

“Hey, Y/N! You’ve got a delivery!”

You look up, confused, as one of the mechanics hands over a beautifully wrapped bouquet. The vibrant pink roses and lilies contrast strikingly against the red of the Ferrari motorhome.

“For me? Who’s it from?” You ask, genuinely puzzled.

The attached card is simple: For someone who lights up the track without even racing.

“Must be from a sponsor or someone thanking Dad,” you muse aloud, inhaling the fragrant bouquet.

Your father, Fred Vasseur, chuckles from a few steps away, “A sponsor, you think?”

You nod, genuinely convinced, “Who else?”

Charles, emerging from his cool-down session after practice, spots you with the flowers. His heart does a little jolt, hoping you’d recognize his gesture. “Those are beautiful,” he comments, trying to sound casual.

“They are, aren’t they?” You beam, holding them out to let him get a better look. “I think they’re from a sponsor or something. It’s a nice touch.”

A small, knowing smile tugs at Charles’ lips but he just nods. “Very thoughtful of them.”

Your father watches the exchange with an amused smirk, clearly catching on to Charles’ hidden intentions. He leans in to whisper to the Monegasque driver, “You sure you want to keep it anonymous, Leclerc?”

Charles shrugs but there’s a hint of red on his cheeks, “I thought it’d be more … romantic? But I didn’t think she would be this oblivious.”

Your father chuckles, patting Charles on the back, “Give it time, son.”

The day continues and you go about your tasks, occasionally stopping to admire the flowers, still clueless about their real origin. Everyone around seems to be sharing knowing glances and subtle nudges.

Carlos, having heard about Charles’ gesture, approaches you. “Heard you got a surprise today,” he comments playfully.

You nod, beaming, “Yeah, a pleasant one. It’s always nice to be appreciated, even if it’s indirectly.”

Charles, overhearing, sighs from a distance. “I need to up my game,” he murmurs to himself.

***

“Morning, Y/N! I brought you something.”

You glance up from your paperwork to find Carlos holding out a steaming cup of coffee and a beautifully wrapped pastry. You can’t help but smile, already salivating.

“Thanks, Carlos. This is such a treat! How do you always know where to find the best coffee and pastries?”

Carlos shrugs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, “Oh, you know. Just lucky, I guess.”

Your father watches the exchange from a distance, laughing softly. “Carlos sure seems to have a knack for pleasing your taste buds,” he teases as he approaches.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you reply, “He’s just being friendly, Dad. Everyone loves a good pastry, right?”

Your father just raises an eyebrow, sipping his own coffee, “If you say so.”

Carlos, seeing an opportunity, chimes in, “Actually, I’ve been exploring the local bakeries in each city. You know, trying to find the best treats.” He pauses for a second, cheeks reddening ever-so-slightly, “Glad you like them.”

It’s a small confession but enough to get a teasing cheer from some of the mechanics nearby. You just laugh, assuming it’s part of the team's usual banter. “You’re too dedicated, Carlos! Thanks for always thinking of me.”

Carlos chuckles, his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper, “Anything for a … friend.”

Later, as you’re engrossed in your work, Charles passes by, subtly observing the pastry and coffee by your side. He exchanges a brief, understanding look with Carlos.

“You know,” Charles says casually, taking a seat opposite you, “Carlos wakes up an hour early just to find these for you.”

You blink, surprised, “Really?”

Charles nods, smirking, “Ask anyone here. They’ve seen him race off, rain or shine.”

Your heart swells with appreciation. “I had no idea,” you whisper, truly touched.

Carlos, overhearing, intervenes with a chuckle, “Leclerc, stop making it sound so dramatic! I just … like to start my day with a good treat, that’s all."

You smile warmly, taking a sip of your coffee, “You’re such a good friend, Carlos. I’m lucky to have you looking out for me like this.”

Carlos nods, swallowing down a hint of disappointment, “Always, Y/N. Just looking out for a friend, right?”

Your father passing by, catches the tail end of the conversation. He winks at Carlos, teasing, “Oh, absolutely. Just a friend.”

Carlos shoots him a mock glare but there’s a smirk on his lips. “Exactly. Just doing what any good friend would do.”

You laugh, completely missing the underlying tension, “Well, here’s to more coffee-filled mornings. Thanks, friend.”

Carlos raises his cup in a mock toast, “To friendship.” But there’s a certain longing in his eyes, a silent hope that someday friendship might evolve into something more.

***

“Y/N, have you ever thought of getting behind the wheel?”

You glance up from your notes, finding Charles leaning against your desk, a mischievous glint in his eye. You laugh, “Of a race car? Surely you’re joking.”

He shrugs, an inviting smirk on his face, “Who better to teach you than a Ferrari driver?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Are you offering?”

Charles nods. “Why not? It’ll be fun and maybe you’ll get a new appreciation for what we do.”

You consider it. “Alright, when?”

“How about after tomorrow’s practice session? The track will be free.”

Carlos, overhearing the conversation, interjects, “Planning some secret training without me?” His tone is playful but there’s an underlying hint of jealousy.

Charles grins, “Just thought I’d offer our friend here a little taste of the track life.”

You chuckle, “Don’t worry, Carlos. If I crash, I promise I’ll come to you for my second lesson.”

Carlos smirks, “I’ll hold you to that.”

The following day, after the practice session, you find yourself clad in a racing suit, helmet in hand, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. Charles approaches, looking much more confident than you feel.

“Ready?” He asks, voice full of anticipation.

You nod, gulping down your anxiety. “As I’ll ever be.”

The next hour is a blur of acceleration, sharp turns, and the roar of the engine. Charles proves to be a patient and encouraging teacher, guiding you through the intricacies of handling a race car. The adrenaline, the rush, and the sheer power of the machine are intoxicating.

At one point, as you glide around a particularly challenging curve, Charles whoops in delight from the passenger seat, “That’s it, Y/N! You’re a natural!”

Your laughter rings out, pure and genuine, “Maybe I’ve found my new calling.”

As the session comes to an end and the two of you climb out of the car, Carlos approaches, clapping. “Not bad for a rookie,” he teases.

You playfully shove him, “Thanks to my excellent instructor here.”

Charles laughs, ruffling your hair, “You were great, seriously.”

Carlos nods in agreement, “I guess I’ll be out of a job soon.”

You roll your eyes, “One lesson and suddenly I’m a pro? You flatter me. But seriously, this was amazing. Truly. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Charles grins, “Anytime. And remember, there’s always more to learn.”

Carlos smirks, “And more instructors available, just in case.”

You laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, let’s celebrate me not crashing the car!”

As you all head off, you link arms with Charles, “You know, for a moment there, I felt the thrill you must feel during races. Thanks for being such a good friend and showing me that world.”

Charles smiles softly, a pang of both happiness and a touch of disappointment at the word you used. “Of course. Anything for a friend.”

Carlos, observing from a distance, shares a knowing look with Charles. The message is clear: the race is far from over.

***

“Hey, Y/N. Can’t sleep?”

You’re startled to find Carlos waiting by the hotel lobby, a charming smile playing on his lips. The clock on the wall reads just past midnight.

You rub your eyes, yawning, “No, not really. Jet lag, I guess.”

Carlos gestures toward the entrance, “How about a midnight stroll? I know this beautiful spot nearby.”

You hesitate for a moment but then nod, intrigued. “Sure, why not? Lead the way.”

The two of you step out into the cool night to find the quiet city bathed in soft light. The silence is comfortable as you walk side by side.

As you amble along, you can’t help but wonder, “Why are you up so late?”

He glances at you, “Couldn’t sleep either. And I thought maybe you’d enjoy some company.”

You smile, touched by his thoughtfulness. “That’s really sweet of you.”

He points to a quiet park with a pond, its surface shimmering with the reflection of the moon. “Here we are. This place always helps me clear my head whenever we’re in town for a race.”

You settle on a bench and Carlos quickly sits beside you, shoulders brushing lightly.

The night unfolds with shared stories and laughter. Carlos opens up about his journey in racing, the challenges he’s faced, and the moments of triumph. You listen intently, feeling a newfound connection.

As the hours slip away, Carlos admits with a soft chuckle, “You know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Really? Why me?”

Carlos smiles, the moonlight illuminating his face. “Because you’re special. You’re different from anyone I’ve met on or off the circuit.”

A warm feeling washes over you. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He turns toward you, his gaze intense, “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say. Something I’ve been feeling for a while.”

But just as he’s about to speak, you yawn loudly, unable to hide your exhaustion any longer. “Sorry. I guess jet lag finally caught up with me.”

He chuckles, disappointment flickering in his eyes, “No worries. Let’s head back.”

When you reach the hotel entrance, Carlos bids you goodnight, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. “Get some rest. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

You smile sleepily, giving him a friendly hug, “Thanks for the midnight adventure. It was nice.”

He holds you for a moment longer than usual before pulling away, “Anytime. Sweet dreams.”

***

“Another one? Seriously?”

You chuckle, pulling out a small folded note from your jacket pocket, the fifth one this week.

“The world’s fastest circuits are slow compared to how fast you make my heart beat.” You read aloud, your cheeks warming at the words.

Carlos, seated nearby, smirks, “Someone’s clearly smitten with you. Any idea who?”

You shrug, “I figured they’re just motivational notes from the team. You know, to keep spirits up.”

Charles joins in, trying to keep his face neutral, “They’re quite poetic for just team motivation, don’t you think?”

You ponder his words, tilting your head. “I guess? But who would be sending them?”

Carlos snorts, “Oh, come on! It’s so obvious.”

You shoot him a confused look, “It is?”

Carlos and Charles exchange a glance, silently communicating. Charles, deciding to have a bit of fun, teases, “Well, they’re definitely from someone who admires you. And since they’re always hidden in places only the team has access to, it’s likely from someone here.”

Carlos nods in agreement, “Sounds about right.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You guys are just trying to rile me up. It’s probably just one of the pit crew playing a prank.”

Charles, a touch defensive, says, “You might be surprised. Maybe you have a secret admirer closer than you think.”

Your father, passing by, overhears the conversation and chuckles, “It’s about time she figures it out.”

You stare, completely baffled, “Figures what out?”

He just winks, patting Charles on the shoulder, “Keep trying.”

Your day is filled with speculation and curious glances, with everyone seeming to be in on a secret that you aren’t privy to. The notes, while touching, become a source of playful teasing.

That evening, as you prepare for bed, you find another note tucked inside your notebook: Your passion and dedication make even the toughest races feel like victories.

You can’t help but smile. “Who are you?” You whisper to yourself.

Little do you know, just a few rooms away, Charles is scribbling down another note, his heart set on winning yours, one word at a time.

***

The night is electric, the post-race party in full swing, music thumping and lights reflecting off the crystal-clear waters of the pool.

“Y/N! Join us for a dance?”

You turn, finding Carlos standing there, his hand outstretched and a playful smile on his face.

You laugh, “You’ve seen me dance. You sure you want to take that risk?”

He chuckles, pulling you closer to the dance floor, “For you? Always.”

As the music shifts to a slower, more intimate tune, you feel a bit self-conscious. But Carlos guides you gracefully, making you feel as if you’re the only two people in the world.

“See? You’re a natural,” Carlos murmurs, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

You chuckle, “Or you’re just an excellent lead.”

Carlos smirks, “Could be both.”

Throughout the night you share more dances, both with Carlos and a few with Charles, who also proves to be quite the dancer. Each time you’re spun, dipped, or drawn close, there’s an electric charge, a connection that’s impossible to ignore.

“Enjoying yourself?” Charles asks during one dance, his voice soft and sincere.

You nod, “Very much so. It’s not every day I get to dance with Ferrari’s finest.”

Charles smirks, “Glad to be of service. You’re quite the dancer yourself, you know.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re just saying that.”

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I mean every word.”

Before you can process his statement, Carlos swoops in, teasing, “Mind if I cut in?”

Charles sighs, releasing you, “Go on but save the next one for me.”

Carlos, dancing you away, smirks, “He’s quite smitten with you.”

You laugh, “Oh, stop. We’re just friends.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure about that?”

You nod, “Absolutely.”

Carlos, holding you a bit closer, murmurs just low enough so only he can hear, “And he’s not the only one who’s smitten.” The hint of longing in his eyes remains hidden to you as the dance continues.

***

“Welcome to the local side of my home!” Charles exclaims with an open gesture, Monaco sprawling before you in all its glory.

You gaze around, taking in the sights of the city. “It’s beautiful. The tourist traps and casinos really don’t do it justice.”

He grins, obviously proud. “I thought you’d appreciate a personal tour. Ready?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Absolutely.”

Charles leads you through winding streets, each corner revealing another story, another memory. “This is where I had my first gelato,” he shares, pointing at a quaint little shop. “And over there,” he gestures to a narrow cobblestone lane, “is where I learned to ride a bike.”

You chuckle, “Really? These streets seem a bit treacherous for a kid on a bike.”

He laughs, “Let’s just say there were a few scrapes and bruises.”

As you continue, Charles points out his favorite viewpoints, cafes, and even his childhood home. It’s an intimate glimpse into his world and you feel honored.

“You know,” you say, pausing to gaze out over the harbor, “it’s one thing to know someone as a colleague and it’s another to really know them. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Charles looks at you, genuine warmth in his eyes. “I wanted you to see where I come from, the place that shaped me. Who better to share it with than you?”

You smile, touched. The two of you continue, with Charles occasionally slipping his hand into yours, guiding you along.

Towards the end of the tour, you stop at a cozy café overlooking the sea. As you sip your drinks, Charles leans in, his tone serious. “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You look up, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Before he can speak, his phone rings. Glancing at the caller ID, Charles sighs. “It’s the team. I have to take this.”

You nod, understanding. “Go ahead.”

When Charles hangs up, he looks apologetic. “I’m so sorry. Duty calls.”

You smile, reassuringly, “It’s okay. Today was special. Thank you.”

Charles nods, hesitating for a moment, as if wanting to say more. Instead, he simply leans in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Until next time.”

***

“Oh, this doesn’t look good,” you mutter, noticing the looming dark clouds as you hurry through the paddock.

Before you can take another step, raindrops start to fall, quickly morphing into a torrential downpour. You’re caught in the middle, water soaking your clothes and making your paperwork soggy.

From a distance, Carlos notices your plight. “Y/N!” He calls out, already running towards you with an umbrella in hand.

By the time he reaches you, you’re thoroughly drenched, strands of hair stuck to your face. “Took a sudden shower, did we?” He teases, even as he huddles you under the umbrella.

You chuckle, shivering slightly, “It seems so. Thanks for the rescue.”

Carlos slips off his jacket and wraps it around you. The warmth of it, combined with his scent — a mix of cologne, fresh rain, and something uniquely Carlos — is comforting.

“You’re getting soaked!” You protest, noticing his wet shirt clinging to his toned body.

Carlos just shrugs, “You needed it more than I did.”

As the two of you find shelter from the storm, the tension between you is palpable. The rain has created a sudden intimacy and you’re both acutely aware of each other.

“Better?” Carlos asks, his voice softer than usual, noticing you inhaling the scent of his jacket.

You nod, cheeks heating up. “Yeah. Smells like ... well, you.”

He smirks, “Is that a good thing?”

You glance up, meeting his gaze, “Definitely.”

There’s a pause, a shared moment where neither of you needs to speak. The rain pattering outside creates a rhythmic backdrop to the charged atmosphere.

Carlos breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, “Y/N, I …”

You lean in, “Yes?”

Just then, a gust of wind blows the umbrella out of Carlos’ hand, startling the both of you. The sudden distraction breaks the intensity of the moment and you both laugh at the absurdity of it.

Carlos, trying to chase the runaway umbrella, calls out, “Rain check?”

You laugh, trying to calm your racing heartbeat, “Quite literally.”

***

“You won’t believe what Carlos did this time,” Antonio, one of the lead engineers, whispers to Paolo, a senior mechanic.

You’re nearby, checking the equipment for the upcoming practice session, but their hushed conversation catches your attention.

Paolo chuckles, “Can’t be crazier than what Charles tried last week.”

Antonio smirks, “Trust me, it’s right up there. Both of them, head over heels, and all for the same girl.”

Your curiosity piqued, you edge closer, feigning interest in a nearby tire. “Who is it?” You wonder internally, trying to think of any new female team members or journalists that might have caught their eye.

Paolo, clearly enjoying the gossip, leans in, “You think she has any idea?”

Antonio shakes his head, “Nope. She’s completely in the dark. It’s actually kind of adorable how clueless she is.”

You bite your lip, even more intrigued. “Who could it be?” You muse.

Deciding to join in the speculation, you casually approach, “Hey, what’s this I’m hearing about someone making our drivers lose their heads?”

Both men look up, surprised to see you so close. Antonio stammers, “Oh, hey Y/N. Just, um, some silly paddock rumors.”

Paolo, trying to divert the topic, adds, “You know how it is. People love making up stories.”

You nod, playing along, “Of course. But, come on, spill. Who’s the lucky girl? Anyone I know?”

Antonio and Paolo exchange glances, trying to gauge how much to reveal. Antonio finally speaks, “Let’s just say she’s someone who is always around but seems to be missing all the signs.”

You laugh, “Sounds like she’s got her head in the clouds. I can’t wait to find out who she is.”

Paolo grins, “Oh, it’ll come out eventually. These things always do.”

***

The meet-and-greet in Maranello is packed to the brim. Fans from all over the world have gathered to meet their favorite drivers and the team uniform you’re wearing means you’ve gathered a considerable crowd around you too.

As you sign autographs and chat with fans, you notice a group of them exchanging knowing glances and excited whispers.

“Y/N,” one brave fan begins, “we’ve got a question for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Sure, fire away.”

The fan clears their throat, “We’ve been following you and the drivers closely, and, well, we couldn’t help but notice something.”

You exchange a curious look with them, “Notice what?”

Another fan chimes in, “You see, Charles and Carlos, they ... they seem to be really close, you know, off the track.”

You nod, “Yeah, they’re good friends.”

A third fan interjects, ‘It’s more than that, though. We think they’re totally into someone.”

You chuckle, thinking they’re just indulging in the typical gossip. “Well, they are both very passionate about racing if that’s what you mean.”

The fans exchange disappointed glances. “She really doesn’t get it,” one of them whispers.

But they’re not giving up that easily. Another fan seems to have a plan. “Okay, Y/N, hypothetical scenario. What if these two drivers were in a race not for points but for something else?”

You’re intrigued, “What do you mean?”

The fan grins, “Imagine if they were trying to win someone’s heart and that someone is right here, oblivious to it all.”

You laugh, amused by their playful scenario. “That would be quite the competition.”

They exchange triumphant glances, “Exactly! So, who do you think this lucky person is?”

You shrug, genuinely not knowing who they’re referring to, “I have no idea. Probably some lucky girl out there.”

The fans let out an exaggerated groan, “She really has no clue.”

Another fan leans in, conspiratorial, “What if we told you that this lucky person is not some random girl but someone they work closely with?”

“What do you mean?”

The fans exchange sly grins, “We mean, what if the person they’re vying for is ... you?”

Your eyes widen in surprise and you laugh, thinking they’re just pulling your leg, “Me? That’s crazy. They’re just my friends.”

The fans share a look of exasperation and one of them sighs, “She’s hopeless.”

***

“Alright, everyone, gather around! Intervention time!” Your father announces, drawing you into the center of the group of staff that were gathered on the first floor of the Ferrari motorhome.

You look around, bewildered. “What’s going on?”

Paolo, chuckling, pats your shoulder, “You’ve got the observational skills of a goldfish.”

You pout, “Hey! I notice things.”

Antonio snorts, “Oh, really? Do you recall Monaco? During the team photo?”

You nod, confused, “Yeah, we were all there.”

Antonio grins, “Carlos was standing right next to you. Instead of giving a thumbs-up like everyone else, he made a heart sign with his hands right behind you. Literally, right behind your head.”

Eyes wide, you protest, “He did?”

Your father chimes in, “And remember in Silverstone? When you lost that bracelet your mother gave you?”

You nod, “Yes, I was devastated.”

He continues, “Charles spent the entire night searching for it. He found it at 3 am and then hand-delivered it to your room.”

Antonio adds, chuckling, “Wearing those ridiculous race car pajamas, I might add.”

You blink, processing the information, “I thought I just dropped it while getting dressed ...”

Paolo, shaking his head in amusement, recounts, “During the team BBQ, Carlos grilled those vegetarian sausages especially for you. Remember wondering why we had them?”

Your cheeks turn a shade redder, “I just thought he was being considerate for the vegetarians on the team.”

Your father laughs, “We don’t have any other vegetarians on the team, darling.”

Antonio recalls another incident, “In Spain, during that heatwave? Charles, out of nowhere, had a mini fan delivered to you. Said it was team equipment.”

You gasp, “That was him?”

Paolo, grinning, continues, “Ever wonder who leaves those freshly peeled oranges on your desk every race day? That’s Carlos’ handiwork.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “But … why?”

Your father steps forward, placing a comforting arm around you, “Sweetheart, it’s because they’re both completely smitten with you. And while it’s entertaining for us to watch, it’s also driving the entire team bonkers with every passing day that you don’t realize.”

You look around, taking in the nodding heads and amused expressions, “I ... I had no idea.”

Antonio chuckles, “Clearly.”

Paolo adds, “It’s like watching a rom-com unfold right before our eyes, only you seem to have missed the entire plot.”

You laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, “Okay, maybe I’ve been a bit oblivious.”

Your father smirks, “A bit oblivious? That’s like saying Ferrari is known for being a bit red.”

Antonio gives you a friendly pat on the back, “Welcome to the real race, Y/N. Buckle up.”

***

Carlos clears his throat, his usual confidence replaced with a rare nervousness, “Y/N, can we talk? Like, really talk?”

You drop what you’re doing, “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Charles, appearing from the shadows, adds, “Actually, I’d like to be part of this conversation as well.”

You’re taken aback. “Alright, you both have my attention.”

Carlos begins, running his fingers through his hair, “You know, racing isn’t just about speed. It’s about timing, making the right move at the right moment.”

Charles nods in agreement, “Sometimes, you wait too long and the opportunity passes you by.”

You squint, trying to decipher their cryptic words, “Are we talking about racing or ...?”

Carlos exhales deeply, “This isn’t about racing. This is about ... us. You, me, Charles.”

Charles interjects, his gaze intense, “It’s about feelings. Ones that have been growing and evolving.”

You swallow, your heart pounding, “I think I know where this is going.”

Carlos, his voice laced with vulnerability, confesses, “Every time I do something hoping it will make you smile, every time I go out of my way just to be near you ... it’s not just because of friendship.”

Charles adds, “And every gesture, every moment we’ve shared, it’s been my way of trying to show you how I feel.”

Your eyes well up with emotion, “I ... I gained an inkling just recently but I still wasn’t sure.”

Carlos takes a deep breath, “We’re not just talking about individual feelings here. What we’re trying to say is we both care for you and we’ve discussed it. We both want to be with you and for the three of us to explore this ... together.”

Charles nods, “We want to navigate this track as a trio. If you’re willing.”

Carlos steps closer, his eyes searching yours, “We just needed you to know. Whatever you decide, we’ll respect it.”

Charles nods, “Just ... take your time. We’re here, no matter what.”

You take a deep breath, “I need some time to think, to process all of this.”

Carlos offers a soft smile, “Of course, Y/N. We understand.”

Charles gently places a hand on your shoulder, “We’ll wait, however long it takes. Your feelings matter to us. You matter to us.”

***

“Safety car deployed, safety car deployed!” The voice over the radio jolts you into high alert.

“What happened?” You ask anxiously, watching the large screen that displays the race.

Your father’s voice shakes slightly, “Multi-car collision at Turn 4. I can’t see which cars are involved yet.”

Your heart races, thinking of Charles and Carlos. “Please, let them be okay.”

Paolo, eyes glued to the live feed, mutters, “This looks bad.”

The images on the screen show plumes of smoke and debris scattered across the track. The safety car slows the procession of vehicles and you can see marshals running toward the crash site.

Suddenly, Charles comes on the radio, sounding strained but intact, “I’m okay but Carlos ... I can’t see Carlos.”

A weight settles in your stomach. Panic floods your veins. “Please, no.”

His race engineer’s voice cracks with urgency, “Carlos, if you can hear me please respond.”

What feels like hours pass but in reality it’s only seconds before Carlos’ shaky voice breaks through, “I’m here ... I’m okay. Got a bit shaken but I’m fine.”

You slump in relief, tears pricking your eyes. The reality of how precious life is and how quickly things can change hits you like a tidal wave.

Once the chaos subsides and both Charles and Carlos are confirmed safe, you rush out to the pits, needing to see them with your own eyes.

Charles, spotting you first, rushes over, his race suit smeared with dirt and sweat. Without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace, the tension and relief palpable between you two.

Carlos joins, wrapping his arms around both of you, his breathing still slightly labored from the shock.

You pull away, tears streaming down your face, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Carlos musters up a hint of a smirk, “Didn’t plan to, trust me.”

Charles adds softly, looking deep into your eyes, “It makes you realize what’s really important.”

You nod, your decision clear. The events of the day, combined with the confessions of the previous week, cement your feelings. “Life is short. Too short not to be with who you care about.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, “Does that mean ...?”

You smile, nodding, “Yes. I want to be with both of you. We’ll figure it all out together.”

***

“France in winter is so enchanting,” Carlos muses as you all stroll through the snow-covered streets of your hometown, having flown there right after the end of the season.

You laugh, “You should see it in spring.”

Charles wraps one an arm around your waist and the other around Carlos, “With you as our guide, I’m sure every season is beautiful.”

The moment you all step into your family home, the familiar smell of your favorite dish wafts through the air. “Ah, maman’s coq au vin!” You exclaim.

Carlos looks intrigued, “What’s that?”

“It’s a traditional French chicken stew,” Charles explains, revealing his fondness for it too.

At the dinner table, your father raises a toast, “To family, old and new.” It’s a nod to Charles and Carlos, welcoming them into the fold.

Throughout the night, more wine is poured and stories are exchanged. Heading about your childhood misadventures makes Carlos chuckle and Charles smirk as your mother brings out the photo album no matter how much you beg her to save you the embarrassment.

Your grandmother pulls you aside and whispers, “It’s beautiful, cherie, how the heart can expand to make room for more love.”

***

Next stop: Monaco. Before you can even ring the doorbell to Charles’ family home, Lorenzo swings it open, his grin wide. “Ah! The infamous new trio. We’ve heard so much about you.”

You laugh, “All good things, I hope?”

Arthur, joining Lorenzo at the doorway, smirks, “Mostly just about how our dear Charles here can’t stop talking about you.”

Charles rolls his eyes, a hint of red tinting his cheeks. “Can we not start with the teasing five seconds in?”

Carlos chuckles, elbowing Charles lightly, “It’s what brothers are for, right?”

Lorenzo nods, winking at you, “Oh, absolutely. You should’ve seen Charles when he was younger. Always getting into mischief.”

Arthur, with a gleeful glint in his eyes, adds, “Remember that time with the go-kart?”

Charles groans, “Do we really have to bring that up now?”

“Oh, but now I’m curious.”

Lorenzo, not missing a beat, narrates, “Our dear Charles decided to modify his go-kart engine. Let’s just say it ended up in the neighbor’s pool.”

Carlos bursts into laughter, “I wish I’d seen that!”

At one point, when Charles steps out to take a call, Lorenzo leans in, “In all seriousness, we haven’t seen Charles this happy in a long time.”

Arthur nods in agreement, “Whatever you two are doing, keep it up. It’s good for him.”

***

The three of you touch down in Spain to ring in the New Year. The evening is filled with laughter, traditional music, and the tantalizing aroma of home-cooked meals. As midnight approached, Carlos’ mother brings out individual bowls filled with glistening grapes.

“You know about the Spanish tradition, right?” Carlos asks.

You shake your head.

Carlos explains, “At the stroke of midnight, for every chime of the clock, you eat a grape. Twelve chimes, twelve grapes. It’s said to bring good luck for the coming year.”

You chuckle, eyeing the bowl, “Sounds easy enough.”

It was not easy.

The first chime rings out and everyone pops a grape into their mouth. By the fourth chime, you’re struggling, laughter bubbling up around a mouthful of the fruit as you desperately try to keep up.

Charles, equally struggling, shoots you a wide-eyed look, grapes nearly falling out of his mouth.

Carlos, on the other hand, seems to have mastered the art, smoothly munching away, though his eyes reveal his suppressed laughter.

As the twelfth chime rings out, you finally manage to swallow the mouthful, gasping for breath air rounded by the hearty laughter of Carlos’ family.

Carlos’ father claps you and Charles on the back, “Well done! You two are practically Spanish now.”

You laugh, wiping away a tear, “I think I’ll need a few more years of practice.”

Carlos grins, wrapping an arm around you, “Don’t worry, we will have many more New Years for you to perfect it.”

***

The sun casts a golden hue on the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore. Your feet are buried in the soft sand and you lean back, enjoying the feeling of warmth on your skin.

Taking a moment to appreciate the surroundings, you sigh, “The view is so breathtaking.”

Charles, reclining beside you with sunglasses perched atop his head, follows your gaze. His eyes, however, are not on the horizon but on Carlos, who’s emerging from the water, droplets glistening on his toned body. Without missing a beat, Charles replies flirtatiously, “Yes, he definitely is.”

Carlos laughs as he approaches, water dripping from him, “You two are impossible.”

You smirk, “Well, can you blame him? You do look quite ... impressive."

Carlos, towel now draped around his neck, grins, “Is that so? Maybe I should spend more time at the beach then.”

Charles mock pouts, “And less time with your car?”

Carlos pretends to think about it, “Tough choice. But I think I can find a balance.”

***

“Look who’s back and glowing!” Paolo greets as the three of you walk into the paddock together for pre-season testing.

Antonio joins in the teasing, “Carlos, you’ve got that sun-kissed tan going on and Charles ... did you forget the sunscreen again?”

Charles laughs sheepishly, touching his slightly reddened nose, “Apparently, I just burn.”

Carlos smirks, “We tried but some people are just destined to be crispy.”

You laugh, nudging Carlos, “Don’t be mean. But … we did have that one day when he turned a shade that matched the Ferrari.”

***

“Here’s to the dream team!” Antonio raises his champagne flute, his eyes shimmering under the bright lights of the party.

Charles, holding his second-place trophy, grins, nudging Carlos who’s proudly holding his first-place one. “Feels pretty good to have another double podium, doesn’t it?”

Carlos laughs, “Only because I’m one step higher!”

“Hey! It was the other way around last weekend,” Charles pretends to sulk.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Children, children. Share your toys nicely.”

Paolo chimes in, “It’s not just about the podium finishes. The energy this season ... it’s been different, more vibrant.”

Charles takes a moment, his gaze flitting between Carlos and you. “Well, happiness does tend to have that effect.”

Carlos wraps an arm around you both, pulling you close. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

***

“You would think that after all these years, I’d have gotten the hang of it,” your father laments, eyeing the bowl of freshly washed grapes in front of him.

Carlos’ mother laughs, patting his arm, “You’ll do just fine this time, Fred. We’ve all been practicing.”

Charles smirks, glancing at his brothers, “Oh, trust me, they’ve turned it into a competitive sport. Last year, Lorenzo managed to eat an extra grape by mistake!”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes, “One time! And I blame Arthur for distracting me.”

“Okay, it’s almost time,” Carlos says. “Remember, the key is not to rush.”

You chuckle, “Says the man who’s been acing this since he was a kid.”

Carlos winks, “Natural talent.”

The clock begins to chime, marking the impending arrival of the New Year. Everyone takes their positions, holding their grapes, waiting for the signal.

As each chime rings out, laughter fills the room. The past mishaps with the grapes only make the current attempt all the more entertaining.

When the twelfth chime fades, everyone erupts in cheers. Even your father, much to his delight, has successfully completed it in time.

Charles wraps an arm around you, “Another year, another challenge conquered.”

Carlos steps up to kiss both of you, tasting distinctly of grape, “With many more to come.”

You smile, looking around at the blending of families, the fusion of traditions, and the love that fills the room. “I can’t wait to spend every New Year together with you for the rest of our lives.”