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sargeant-bxrnes · 5 months

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the bet

—✮ summary: gojo and you make a bet. gojo assures he’ll be able to resist a whole month without sex, and you bet on the fact that he won’t be able to resist. may no nut november begin.

pairings: gojo x f!reader [established relationship]

contents & warnings: slight exhibitionism (consented shower peeking), teasing, explicit descriptions of female anatomy. | SMUT unprotected sex (don’t do this!), dirty talk, praise, sofa sex.

wc: 4.2k

my masterlist! | requests are OPEN!

"Who do you take me for?" Gojo questioned with a half dramatic, half genuine gasp, as his pale hand met his chest, feigning hurt.

"Oh, come on!" You can't help but giggle at his dramatics. "the only reason why you don't try to keep up with NNN is because your horny ass would NOT survive."

"I-" He shut his mouth, to open again a few seconds later. "for your information, I think No Nut November is stupid. Why would I restrain myself for a month just for funsies? That's why I don't do it. If I didn't find the idea stupid, I would definitely survive. Mhm."

"...Right." You nod your head softly, trying to hide an amused smile and narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend. "Absolutely, you can resist a whole month without an orgasm, completely feasible."

"You don't believe me, do you, baby?"

"Absolutely not."

"Alright, alright," he said, repositioning himself on the bed, leaning on his elbow as he draped his body across the bed, showing how 'relaxed' he was. "let's make a bet, then."

"A bet with the infamous Gojo?" You muse, also leaning down on the bed. "do tell, handsome."

"I bet that I can survive No Nut November," he said firmly, a confident smirk on his lips. "and by the looks of it, your bet will be on me, absolutely failing this dumbassery."

"Oh, sounds about right," you nod. "deal. What's in it for the winner?"

"That'll be decided when the bet's over," He says confidently. "at the end of November, when I win, of course."

"You're so confident about this, it's so cute.".

"Aw, and you're so confident you'll make me lose, it's adorable." He cooed back.

And with that, it was game on.

The first few days, you acted like normal, making sure to keep behaving like every other day. Gojo was doing just fine; sure, some kisses prolonged more than usual, but he was so determined to win that he forced himself to pull back before it turned into a make-out session.

By the time November 10 came around, Gojo had only been close to losing once, but other than that, he was showing impressive restraint—by avoiding long cuddle sessions or kissing for long periods of time—which could be counted as cheating since those things you used to do normally.

So, you decided to twist the rules a little bit too.

Knowing Gojo's schedule like the back of your hand, you waited the entire day to get in the shower, purposefully choosing to get under the warm stream around 10 minutes before he got home—you left the bathroom door ajar, also on purpose. You knew Satoru is nosy by nature, and he wouldn't resist taking a peek.

Like a damn Pavlovian effect, as soon as Gojo got home and heard the shower, he instinctively made his way to the bedroom, noticing the ajar bathroom door. He knew he shouldn't, not because you'd be uncomfortable—you two had been together long enough for nudity to not be an issue—but because he knew that as soon as he saw you naked, his hormones would act up.

But what kind of boyfriend would he be if he refused to delve into such a beautiful sight?

He walked closer to the ajar door and took a small peek at first. The first thing he saw was steam from the shower's temperature, but that wasn't much of an impediment for him to concentrate on what he wanted. Gojo's eyes quickly found your figure amidst all the steam. There you were, standing behind the glass door of the shower, in all your beautiful glory.

The water was cascading over you in a waterfall, covering your entire figure. You had your back to him, so he couldn't see your face, but he knew you were enjoying the bath, judging by your relaxed shoulders.

Satoru lost all decency and let his eyes travel down your body, your hair, your shoulders, and your beautiful back, which he loved to caress with his hands. His eyes went lower and lower, and he felt his body getting hot under the collar.

His eyes focused on your glistening ass... He swore he could see water droplets bouncing off that beautiful thing. It looked so damn delicious, it made him want to-

He forced his eyes to look somewhere else. Where? Your hair. He smiled as he saw how meticulous you were when washing it—so cute and adorable. And for a second, he regained control. However, you turned around a few inches to the right, and now your breasts were visible to him. His jaw dropped as he saw the water stream softly hitting your breasts, water droplets sliding down the valley he adored to kiss, oh... the way they followed a path to your little hardened nipples and—

His cock twitched.

Gojo closed his eyes and bit his tongue to contain a grunt. If he looked at you for one more second, he would strip and join you in the shower, and in no time, he would have you with your legs spread, bent over with your hands splayed against the wall as he drilled into your cunt.

Gojo cleared his throat and made his way out of the room, discreetly tugging the crotch of his pants so they wouldn't be so snug against his hard cock. He made his way to the kitchen and set about preparing some food to share with you, who’s showering with warm water touching your soft, naked body—fuck. Fuck. Gojo was losing it already.

While you hadn't seen his struggles, you knew him far too well to know his composure had started to crumble. You knew you were one step closer to winning this bet. Because, despite how proudly he claimed to be able to, Gojo Satoru will not be able to survive a whole month without nutting.

You let the teasing rest for a few days, making him believe you'd stopped. It was a calculated gesture. Sure, the shower peek could've been an innocent accident; maybe you hadn't meant to leave the door open, or maybe you didn't think he'd get home from work before you got out of the shower. Right.

ii.

5 days later, you played another one of your little teasing schemes.

Gojo was already lying down on the bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, watching short clips of kikufuku mocha recipes, his absolute favourite dish. (Right after your pussy.)

You opened the bathroom door after doing your routine of handling your hair and applying cream all over your body and face. You walked out, turned off the bathroom lights, and made your way to the bed.

Gojo's eyes instinctively rose up to see you walk up to the bed, and then he turned back to his phone, but—hold up. Gojo did a double take, eyes travelling all over your frame, quickly noticing you seemed to be wearing nothing but an old t-shirt of his, which was sliding down your bare shoulder, the hem of it covering half of your thigh.

He gulped down to regain control of himself and opened the covers for you to slide right beside him, as always. You got under the warm covers and scooted close to him, your warm body fitting perfectly next to his tall one. Gojo dropped the covers and let his arm wrap around your body, his hand falling on your back. He softly caressed it both as an affectionate gesture and as a way to try and find your sleeping bra wings or the clasp, but all he felt under the palm of his hand was the fabric of the t-shirt and your soft skin. No bra.

He could work with that, absolutely. Yeah.

As every night, you cuddled up to him, your head on his chest and your arm draped over his torso as your fingertips softly caressed his sides, gliding up and down soothingly. Your leg, as always, also draped over him, falling comfortably between his legs. Gojo's arm held you tight and safely nestled against him, as he did all he could to avoid letting his hand wander down.

You got comfortable, making an inhuman effort to not smirk a little. It was hard to tell if he'd noticed or not, but the only piece of clothing you were currently wearing was his old shirt, nothing else—no panties, no bra.

At first, he didn't notice. But oh.

Not only could he feel your soft breasts against his chest through the thin fabric of the shirt, your hard nipples pressed against him. No, no. He also became hyper-aware of how warm your body was and the way it curved so beautifully and naturally. His hand moved in small circles down the small of your back, where, if he splayed his hand, he would be able to feel the waistband of your... Nope. There's no waistband.

You're naked, wearing nothing but his old t-shirt, the one he gave you after you two fucked for the first time in your newly shared apartment. That day, you two had been moving furniture and boxes around, and it ended up with him fucking you on the floor like two dogs in heat. He remembers giving it to you so you could cover up your body when the neighbors knocked on the door to welcome you both, and it has been your shirt ever since.

And knowing you're wearing it and nothing under it, just like that day... his cock twitched inside his pijama pants. He felt it, and so did you.

You couldn't help but smirk. Would this be the moment when he gave in?

"I uh-fuck..." Gojo rambled as his grip on your body tightened. "I'll turn off the lights now; I'm—yeah, it's late; it's time to sleep, baby."

"Hm yeah?" You cooed playfully as his free arm stretched to turn off the bedside lamp.

"Yeah," he assured, sucking in a breath as you cuddled up even closer to him. "g-good night, gorgeous."

"Aw, where's my good-night kiss?" You playfully teased him, pouting in the darkness.

Gojo let out the smallest little whimper before his hand blindly found your jaw, cupping it as he tilted your head up. His lips found yours in a short kiss, no short of desperation, before he pulled away and laid his head back on the pillow, clearing his throat to act casual, like nothing had happened, as if you couldn't feel the bulge in his PJ pants.

"You know, baby, you could just... give in and lose the bet." You offered softly, stopping the teasing to be genuine for a couple of seconds before dropping an absolutely filthy comment. "I'd definitely suck your cock then, y'know? For your effort. I'd even do a sloppy, as you like it."

"Fuck-" He hissed as his cock twitched again. "Shh, shut your pretty mouth, shush. Stop. G'night, sleep time. Love you."

Knowing when to stop, you stopped for the night, kissing his cheek softly before mumbling good night, and I love you back, and closing your eyes.

iii.

The very next day, you continued your teasing. The previous night he had almost lost his composure, and you weren't about to stop, not now.

After having a nice meal during his break, Gojo and you had decided to get some ice cream, since the weather was quite hot that day.

Unbelievably so, you had nothing but pure intentions at first.

You both sat at one of the tables at the back of the establishment, since Gojo preferred to eat at peace. While you were eating ice cream, Gojo was talking to you about one of the missions he had coming up, and you were listening to him attentively, letting him talk your ear off, to be honest, you loved the sound of his voice, so listening to him wasn't a bother.

It wasn't until he stopped mid-sentence while you licked your ice cream cone that you came up with your idea. Unbeknownst to him, Satoru had handed himself on a silver plate to you when he did that.

You nodded your head as he kept talking, genuinely listening to him talk while uttering the occasional 'mhm' and 'yeah?' to keep him talking. But on the other hand? You were teasing him. You licked your ice cream 'innocently' letting the cold treat coat your tongue before flicking it, and whenever a drop of ice cream slid down to the cone, you would lick it slowly, keeping eye contact with Gojo.

It didn't take more than 3 minutes for Satoru to start feeling his blood flowing south, you looked so innocent, like a good girlfriend, listening to him — But Gojo knew perfectly well what you were doing, the way you savored the ice cream, the way you licked the cone specifically... all Gojo could think about was how it felt when you did that on his cock, licking the drops of precum that slid down his length.

"So I was thinking of asking..." He trailed off as he saw you wrap your lips around the tip of the ice cream, the way the creamy goodness coated your lips, how your cheeks hollowed ever so subtly to let the ice cream melt in the warmth of your mouth.

"Yeah?" You asked innocently, removing your mouth from the ice cream and licking your lips clean.

"Of asking Nanami, you know? He's..." Gojo's eyes followed the drops of ice cream that now melted on your fingers, as it had began to drip down after you left it unattended. "he may not be the most cheerful but he-"

You licked the ice cream off your fingers as Gojo kept talking, keeping eye contact with him as you genuinely listened to him, but once again, he stopped mid-sentence, his throat going dry and his pants definitely getting tighter.

"What?" You dared ask, knowing exactly what was going on.

"Oh, you-" he took a sharp inhale, he knew what you were doing, and as much as his cock was screaming at him to grow up and accept the defeat so he could sink in your tight pussy, Gojo wouldn't budge. "never mind, as I was saying, Nanami is the man for the job."

"Mhm, I'm sure he is." You mused, going back to eating your ice cream.

However, before you could continue licking it, Gojo snatched the cone from you and stuffed the remaining ice cream into his mouth, he hissed, eyes immediately narrowing and his features scrunching up from the icy sensation, and with a grimace he swallowed the ice cream in one gulp.

"No more ice cream for you, you're a danger to my cock."

iv.

After that direct tease, you decided to act normal for several days, perhaps your boyfriend did have the will to fulfill No Nut November after all.

After a long day, you both found yourselves on the couch in your living room, watching a movie on TV. As it had become customary throughout your relationship with Satoru, you ended up cuddling with him.

You found yourself comfortably nestled on Gojo's lap. Your soft body pressed against his hard muscles, sending a pleasant tingle through your body. To be fair, you didn't intend to tease him or tempt him this time around; you just wanted some quality couch-time with your boyfriend.

However, as the movie progressed and your bodies grew more intimate due to their close proximity, something unexpected happened - a familiar stirring within Gojo began to rise up. It started small at first but quickly became impossible to ignore any longer.

"Fuck," muttered Gojo under his breath, trying desperately not to give into his urges. But it was clear that he wasn't going to make it without giving in soon enough.

"You okay?" You asked him softly, looking up at him from your comfortable position.

This time, no comment came from him, only actions. Gojo leant down to kiss you, and as soon as you reciprocated the kiss with the same intensity, he knew you wanted him as badly as he wanted you— you weren't insisting on him losing NNN just to gloat, no, no, you were needy, too, and it showed in the way you nearly ripped his shirt off his body.

Not wanting to pull his lips away from yours, Gojo's hands moved all over your body they stopped at your breast swiftly, his hands groping the soft globes in the least gentlemanly way, before moving his hands lower and lower.

Without warning or hesitation, Gojo swiftly hooked his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and panties at once, pulling them down your legs. You helped by raising your hips off his lap– soon your clothes were discarded somewhere out of sight. Satoru finally pulled back from your lips and grabbed a hold of his sweatpants, pulling the waistband low enough for his throbbing cock to be freed, it immediately sprang out, slapping against his pale abs, his tip was reddened by arousal, a few drops of precum were already accumulating at the tip.

And just as you were about to lean down to take his cock down your throat and give him the sloppy blowjob you promised, he took a hold of your hips and pulled you closer to him, nudging your leg up so you would straddle him. You quickly understood what he wanted and straddled him, hovering right over his cock– you were already so wet a few drops of your arousal dripped down to his tip, and he swore he could've busted right there.

He looked at you to confirm everything was okay, and as soon as you nodded, he slowly pulled you down on his cock, his tip nudging its way inside, slowly being sucked in by your cunt.

"F-fuck, fuck, you're so tight." He nearly hissed, feeling the way your tight entrance slowly stretched to allow his cock in– it didn't matter how many times you two fucked, you were as tight as ever. "Oh my– fuck."

As soon as he felt your soft wetness envelop his cockhead, Gojo thrusted his hips forward into your waiting pussy. Your tight walls gripped him like velvet vice as he plunged deeper, and deeper. Gojo couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips as he felt you clamping down around his dick, as if your cunt wanted to keep it forever inside.

You whimpered in delight, your hand finding the back of his head, fingers tangling in his white hair as you bit your lip. "You feel so damn good baby, so big..."

Once he was fully sheathed, his lips returned to yours to kiss you desperately as he gave you time to adjust to his length, his thumb found your clit blindly, and he began to stroke it in small circles, making your soft walls tighten around his cock, enveloping his cock in your warmth.

Eventually, you began to ride him, your hand finding his chest as you began to move back and forth, lifting and lowering your hips with each movement, the sound of your thighs making contact with his, plus the squelching sound each time your greedy cunt sucked him in was definitely erotic— not to mention the sounds escaping from Satoru's mouth, you forced yourself to swallow your own moans to hear his, the way he moaned, grunted and even whimpered.

"Jus' like that baby, so, so good," he praised, his eyes threatening to roll back at the feeling of your warm walls around his shaft. "there we go, you're doing so good f'me, fuck– god damn, baby. Missed this pretty little thing so much."

Gojo's hands were holding your hips so tightly that they would probably leave marks, but you didn't care, the way he was moving your body with such ease, it was incredibly attractive, he was fucking you roughly, but needy, it was obvious he needed this, and by the way he was also lifting his hips to push his cock even deeper inside you, it was obvious.

"T-Toru," you moaned after a particular thrust of his, one of his cock veins had grazed against your g-spot so perfectly it felt like heaven– you tilted your hips and tried to replay the feeling as you bounced on his lap.

His cock was hitting in all the right places, and by that point you were chasing your orgasm, however, your plans were quickly interrupted when, with a grunt, Gojo wrapped his arms around you and pushed you down on the sofa.

He pulled his cock out a little to accommodate your leg, throwing it over his shoulder and leaning his body forward, exposing your pussy to him, his eyes watched hungrily as he thrust inside you again, your juices pooling in a translucent circle at the base of his cock. You couldn't help the moan of surprise and utter pleasure that left your lips as Gojo began to thrust, his hips moving with precision, rising a little to get a better angle, his cock grinding its way inside your tight cunt, its tip possibly touching your cervix.

"There we go, hm? So fuckin' good, your pussy is so fucking good f'me," he rambles, clearly too pussydrunk to stop the endless rambling. "oh god, you missed having your tight little cunt filled with my cock, didn't you? Hm, I can feel it baby, you're squeezin' me so tight."

With one hand braced against the couch armrest for leverage, Gojo began powering up into your body at a pace that left no room for hesitation or mercy. It wasn't long before sweat dripped down from his brow.

One hand kept holding your hips to keep you in place so your body wouldn't slide up with each thrust, the sound of his skin against yours was obscene, and you would be embarrassed by the wet sound of your pussy, but that seemed to please Gojo judging by the way he alternated his gaze between your face and your cunt.

Your back arched off the couch as he began to hit all the right spots, and upon seeing that, Gojo couldn't help himself, he leant down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, his warm tongue swirling around the hardened bud before his lips sucked it gently— you squirmed in utter pleasure at the dual pleasure, but you nearly lost your composure when his hand left your hip and slid between your legs, finding your little clit and began circling it quickly.

"F-fuck, 'Toru, baby w- I– hmm," you couldn't even speak clearly, your eyes rolling back as he kept sucking your nipples, rubbing your clit and plunging deep inside your pussy, god bless his multitasking abilities.

At a sudden wave of pleasure, your legs threatened to close, but Gojo would not allow that. His hand left the couch armrest and came to hold the leg over his shoulder in place, he used the leverage and knelt down on the sofa, lifting your hips up slightly to keep fucking deep into you, his thumb still assaulting your clit relentlessly.

"Gojo I'm gonna– please, j-just like that." You managed to say clearly, as you felt his cock twitching intensely inside you, you could notice the telltale signs, his twitching cock, the way his eyes were glazing over and his thrusts got relentless– he was close.

"I know, I know," he coos in a rasp, his breath heavy as he keeps going. "that's it, that's it, cum for me pretty girl, yeah? Cum for me, gorgeous. You've been so good for me, let go baby."

As soon as that praise fell from his lips, combined with all the pleasure and stimulation he was giving you, you were a goner. Your cunt squeezed tight around his cock, milking it for all it was worth as a moan of his name left your lips, your whole body tensed and clenched in response to the overwhelming orgasm.

Now, Gojo is a simple man. The moment your pussy squeezed him so deliciously tight, he lost control of himself, he immediately followed your orgasm, his cock spurting ropes of white warmness that coated your insides.

His body felt nearly limp on top of yours, his cock still nestled inside your warm walls, his sweaty forehead meeting the clammy skin of your shoulder as he took deep breaths, pressing a kiss against your soft skin, he relaxed as he felt your fingers threading his messy hair.

"NNN was stupid anyway," he mumbled against your skin, making you giggle as you remembered that he'd lost the bet. "your pussy's too good for me to give up, even for a month."

You chuckled soflty, kissing his sweaty forehead. "I can't decide if I should feel flattered or offended."

"It was definitely a compliment," he assured playfully, nipping on your shoulder as he rose his body up, softly patting your thigh as he pulled out of you, a mix of his cum and yours dribbling out of your tight hole. "now, get on all fours f'me, princess, I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh?" You teased him, completely up for another round.

"Gonna make you cum as many times as you teased me this month," He promised as he took a hold of your hips and flipped you over, your body acting by muscle memory as you got on your hands and knees, face pressed against the sweaty material of the couch. “and believe me, I kept count.”

And just like that, you felt his cock slide back home.

It was going to be a long night.

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whorekneecentral · 5 months

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The Flash Of The Camera

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: photographer/husband!dan, recording/filming consensually, boudoir shoot of sorts, stripe tease, masturbation (fem), oral (f!receiving), fingering, nipple play for a few seconds, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie + softness at the end.

Word Count: 1,617

Author's Note: okay so this one was an idea from pooks, all of you that are groaning about that - shut up. this one fucks tho if I can say so myself

merry smutmas series

You enlist Daniel to help you with your Christmas gift for him.

That stupid camera was with him 24/7 - the only time he put it down was to shower, work out or sleep. Even then, you're certain he dreamt of it.

Daniel had somehow ended up on a photographer kick, thanks to Lando. As you two got ready for the holidays, Daniel spent more time taking pictures than helping you. You were a bit annoyed but you had an idea, a way to get him to put the camera that he so desperately wanted to be behind.

You had mentioned to Daniel that you wanted to take a few photos for a Christmas card, just some stuff for your family to send over the holidays.

He was more than happy to take the photos for you, bouncing around the house all day waiting for you to be ready.

"Are you ready?" He shouts from the bottom of the staircase.

You were just about ready, your hair curled and tossed over your shoulders, makeup done perfectly and you took one last look in the mirror to check your outfit.

"I'm coming!" You shout back, making your way downstairs.

Daniel was waiting for you in the living room, smiling at you as you sat yourself on the couch. Blue jeans and a silky white button up, "you look pretty," he smiles, fiddling with the settings on his camera.

"Yeah?" you smiled, glancing down at your outfit. "Thanks baby."

"Yeah," he nods, holding up his camera. "Ready whenever you are, superstar."

You nodded, sitting comfortably on the couch as you smiled for him, Daniel's camera flashes a few times before he directs you; move this way, lay that way, put this hand there etc.

"You wanna try another spot?" He asks as you stand, you shake your head.

You smiled, hands lifting to undo the buttons of your shirt. "I have a different idea,"

His brows furrow, watching as you toss the shirt onto the other shirt. "What- I'm not sure these are family friendly," Daniel mumbles, watching as you undo your jeans, stepping out of them.

"Mhm I know," you smiled, sitting yourself back on the couch.

The set was red, lace and silk covered your body and Daniel smiles to himself, watching as you make yourself comfortable on the couch.

"C'mon mister camera man, don't leave me waiting." You sit on your knees, fluffing your hair. Daniel smiles, nodding as he lifts his camera again.

He takes a few pictures, you smile at him, moving around a bit. It wasn't until a few moments later that you pulled the straps of your bra down, leaning forward; your hands on your knees as you smiled at the camera.

There's a twinkle in your eyes, something mischievous and Daniel can't quite place what it is but it makes his cock twitch. He watches, the camera flashing every few seconds and you unhook your bra, letting it fall off the couch.

"Wh-Babe.. what are you doing?"

"Just keep going," You flip over, laying on your stomach.

You look over your shoulder at him, Daniel moving around to get pictures of you. You smile sweet at him as if you weren't half naked, posing for him like a playboy bunny.

Now you're on your back, lifting your hips as your manicured fingers hook around the side of the lace panties you had on. "Y/n," he trails off and you look at him.

"Keep going, Daniel." You smile to yourself, rubbing slow circles over your clit.

His eyes fix on you, not moving even an inch. He watches your every moment and listens to every single sound that slips out of your mouth.

"Are you sure you want this on camera?" His words are hesitant but his movements aren't; moving closer to you as your fingers slip lower, exactly where he wished his fingers were.

You look over at your husband, his name slipping from your lips as your fingers go exactly where he wants them to. You don't miss the way he clears his throat, shifting a bit and the bulge on his shorts beyond obvious.

"Put the camera down, baby. C'mere, come join me."

There's a look on Daniel's face, one used by him many times before; the look that he gets when he's got some sort of mischievous idea, spinning around that big head of his.

"Why put the camera down?" He hands it to you, dropping to his knees.

Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs who settled himself between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Daniel always fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire.

He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor. He shifts to sit on his knees between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking; he wants you to look at him.

The camera in your hand clicks then flashes, taking a picture of your husband between your legs.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping his curly hair.

Daniel knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and he gives in.

Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.

Daniel pulls away, earning himself a pout from you along with a groan but he moves up, kissing from your hips to your stomach, up to your chest.

He shifts a bit, dropping down against your side when his lips wrapped around your nipple. You can feel the way his tongue moves, how gentle he is. Daniel's tattoo covered arm slips under you when your back arches. There's a half smile on his face, watching as you lift the camera to take a picture of him.

“Hands and knees,” Daniel tells you, take the camera from you to give you a chance to re-situate yourself.

You're on all fours, face buried in the couch cushions with your back arched. The slightest clicking sound reaches your ears, followed by a smack to your ass and then another clicking sound.

"Did you just smack my ass so you could get a picture of your handprint?" You glanced over your shoulder at your husband.

The man smiles, lipped pressed together as he shakes his head. "Definitely not. I would never do that, babe."

You laughed, the giggle is cut off by a moan when Daniel pushes his cock into you. Your back arches, the curve of your spine evident when he comes up behind you. His hand rubs down your back, resting on your tailbone as he takes another picture.

The camera is set on the coffee table, both of Daniel's hands rest on your hips now.

Daniel pulls out and pushes into you again, his name falling from your lips. “God, Danny, like that,” the words tumble out, begging your husband for more as he fucks you.

His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh. Your hand reaching under you, fingers barely reaching to rub your clit.

He pulls you up, his arm wrapped around your middle, your back pressed to his chest. His fingers dig into your side for a moment, squeezing you a bit.

He whispers in your ear, "all mine hm?"

"Yours," you mumbles, holding onto him as he fucked you from behind.

“I love you, I love you so much.” He whispers to you and you smile, a hand reaching back to touch his jaw.

“I love you.”

Daniel's cock twitches when you clench around him, “oh fuck,” he breathes, forehead against your shoulder. “This pussy was made just for me, hm? Take me so well, my pretty girl.”

You can feel your heart skip a beat, no matter what this man always makes you so happy and feel so loved, even when his cock is buried in you.

“Come on sweetheart,” Daniel whispers, letting you drop back into the couch and it’s like you read his mind. You knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Mhm,” you breathe, “almost.”

It takes a few more sloppy thrusts and Daniel's orgasm follows yours. Your husband still buried in you when he drops down onto you, landing with an oof. You let out a giggle and whisper, “thank you.”

Daniel lifts himself up a bit, moving to lay beside you before looking at you. "What for?"

You shrug, at a loss for words. “For being you, for this.”

"No need to thank me, baby. What else is a husband for?"

"Uh.. a lot?" You laughed, resting your head on his chest.

Daniel smiles, reaching for the camera to click through the pictures. He shows you the ones you had taken at first, with clothes on - he points out his favourites as they become a bit more scandalous.

"What brought this on?" He asks, looking at you and you shrug. "Just an early Christmas gift, I suppose."

He turns the camera to face the two of you; you're pressed to his side, the throw blanket over the two of you, all dazed and in love. The flash makes you squint a bit, the two of you have sleepy smiles on your faces.

"What was that one for?" You asked.

"A final addition to the gift." He smiles, kissing you.

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#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut #merry smutmas xoxo

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awearywritersworld · 7 months

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"i'll always come when you call"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you're gravely injured on a mission, your best friend finds you just in time w/c: 1.35k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, obviously reader is hurt but nothing is terribly graphic, though there are lots of mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lots of emotional distress for gojo, he punches a wall, ft. a very worried yuuji and gumi a/n: home boy is in pieces at the thought of losing us. i make myself emotional masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

it wasn't supposed to go like this. not hardly, not half.

a simple mission turned into an ambush. what was originally one mid-grade cursed spirit became several. you lost count somewhere around the fifth.

rain patters against your body, washing away the crimson that's seeping from numerous wounds. at first everything hurt, but now all you feel is a foreboding numbness spreading throughout your limbs.

you hardly remember slipping your phone from your pocket or dialing his number when you hear your best friend's voice ring out from the speaker. "hey, princess. how'd it go?"

you try to speak, but no sound comes out. eventually, you manage a choked cough and the faint sensation of liquid flowing from the corner of your mouth accompanies the effort.

you barely make out his worried tone calling your name before your phone clatters to the ground, screen going black as it lies in a puddle of pale red.

you fight to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you're incredibly drowsy and the coldness has begun to ebb away, replaced by a comforting warmness.

you always imagined the light that welcomes you into the afterlife would be a blinding white, but instead, it's a familiar shade of blue.

an unsettling feeling had made a home in the pit of gojo's stomach long before he received your call. he's pacing, his eyebrows furrowed with inexplicable worry when his ringtone fills the room.

relief floods through him once he sees your name on the screen, but it's short lived when your end of the line remains quiet. he hears you sputter and it isn't a second later that he teleports to the city where your assigned mission is.

his heart is hammering away, a dull thudding in his ears, as he follows the traces of cursed energy that grow stronger with each long stride. he covers ground impressively fast, though as soon as his eyes land on your body, it's as if everything shifts to slow motion.

it feels like he's fighting against an invisible force as he approaches the spot where you lay. he can hear someone howling your name and it's not until he feels the hoarseness in throat that he recognizes the voice as his own. his knees crash painfully into the pavement at your side.

the situation is worse than he could have imagined. it's looks like you, sure, but it can't be you. not when your eyes have just fluttered shut, no movement beneath your lids. not when your body is still, no steady rise and fall of your chest. and certainly not when it looks as if you're—

"wake up," he begs, shaking your shoulders. "please, wake up!"

not wasting another moment, he gathers your limp body in his arms, one arm behind curling around your shoulders, the other hooking behind your knees.

he teleports directly into the infirmary and shoko nearly scolds him before she takes in your dreadful state. the cigarette that was hanging between her lips falls to the floor. "get her on the bed."

she moves around the room in haste, pulling drawers and cabinets open wildly.

"she's going to be okay, right? tell me that she's going to be fine," he implores, panicking when the brunette fails to reassure him. "..shoko!"

"get out, satoru!" she barks. she can't concentrate, not while one of her oldest friends is hysterical with worry and the other is lying there half dead.

"please, i can't—"

"now!"

he stares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the hall. his fist meets the wall with such force, the drywall crumbles to the floor. gojo himself follows suit soon thereafter.

the commotion catches the attention of yuuji and megumi, who round the corner just seconds later.

"sensei—" yuuji begins to question, but the words die in his throat.

gojo's crouched down, his face buried in his hands. they're still covered in your blood. he wants to scream and yell and curse the world, but instead, he clenches his jaw so fiercely it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.

the boys share a look, both startled by the present state of their usually frivolous teacher. neither of them need to ask who's behind that door, they know there's only one person who could elicit such a reaction from gojo.

megumi approaches him cautiously, swallowing his own concern, and places a hand on his shoulder. "she'll be okay."

the white haired man doesn't look up, just nods weakly in acknowledgement. megumi joins yuuji who is already sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, and the three of them wait together in silence.

gojo hardly moves until the infirmary door opens, which makes him rise so quickly it leaves him dizzy. shoko surveys the three of them before speaking.

"she's.. she's still unconscious, but you should be with her. she's been calling for you in her sleep—"

she scarcely finishes before gojo makes his way through the door. shoko stays in the hallway to update yuuji and megumi, giving the two of you a bit of privacy.

pulling up a chair beside you, he threads his fingers between yours, your skin still frightfully cool. though it's not until he hears you mumble his name that he truly falls apart.

his free hand flies to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking. this all could have gone very differently and the thought makes him sick to his stomach. he should have gone with you, or at the very least, he should have gotten to you faster.

"'toru?" your raspy voice fills his ears.

when he looks up to find you peering at him through tired eyes, the tension that'd been weighing heavily in his chest dissipates and he exhales deeply. still, his voice trembles. "hey, sweetheart."

every part of you aches, but it's nothing compared to the guilt you feel upon seeing gojo like this— his eyes red and swollen, your blood painted across his hands and face.

you have a vague memory of everything that happened. you remember just barely exorcising the last cursed spirit. you remember being sure you weren't going to survive and using your last bit of strength to call him. "you found me."

he nods, his hand squeezing yours. "i thought i was too late.. i.. i thought i'd lost you."

his voice cracks and it nearly shatters your heart, tears welling up in your eyes. "i'm so sorry, 'toru. i'm sorry i wasn't strong enough, t-that you had to come save me."

you attempt to sit up, but he puts a hand to your shoulder and shakes his head. "don't you dare apologize. i'll always come when you call and i'll always be there when you need me. you have to know that."

the intensity of his gaze forces you to look away and the conviction in his voice makes you feel woozy. thinking about it, there really never had been an instance in which gojo wasn't there for you. he's the person you've sought out time and time again and he's never once let you down.

his hand finds your face and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye.

"i love you," you blurt out.

you stare at each other with wide eyes and the seconds tick by markedly until he finally whispers, "say it again."

"i love you."

he had no idea how much he needed to hear those three words fall from your lips until he nearly lost the chance forever. truthfully, it makes him feel a bit foolish, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.

he smiles for the first time in hours, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "i love you, too."

and he always has— he knows that now.

"you should get some rest, angel," he suggests tenderly. "i'll be right here when you wake up."

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines

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oikasugayama · 4 months

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YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG pt. 5

MDNI, this is a NSFW series for adults

pt 1. Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagwa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (Finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Atsushi

such a sweet boy... he's so down bad for you.

it's very obvious to everyone, including yourself, that he has a crush on you. he blushes every time you come in the room, he greets you overly-politely and always offers to run errands for you while he's out, and when you have to go on missions he makes sure to tell you good luck and he hopes you come back safely. he stares at you when you're working, eventually gathering the courage to tell you that he thinks you're very pretty, and he even admits that he likes you when ranpo and dazai threaten to tell you.

he tells you no pressure, don't worry about saying anything back, he doesn't intend on asking you out or anything because you're too good for him... but you surprise him and say you'd like to get to know him better as friends and maybe eventually you could go on a date.

he's over the moon!!!!!!!! and so you start spending time together outside of work, which was never an issue until you accidentally fall asleep at his place one evening.

you wake up on the couch and atsushi is nowhere to be seen. you rub the sleep out of your eyes, get up, and shuffle to the bathroom because you really have to peeee

and before you open the bathroom door, you turn your head to look at the source of a noise and see into atsushi's bedroom. he's sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes are screwed tightly shut, and he's rubbing his cock quickly. you're in awe, unbelieving that you've caught him doing this while you're visiting, and with his bedroom door open.

and then something shocks you more.

he cums, using his free hand to catch his mess, and you hear a very whiny, shaky moans of your name come out of his mouth.

you gasp, and his eyes snap open, his head turning to you.

"oh shit-- [y/n] i-- i'm so sorry, please dont--"

you run into the bathroom, locking yourself in. you have to gather yourself for a good couple of minutes before you can act normally again.

he knocks softly on the door, and you don't answer. he knocks again.. and again... he calls for you, and finally you open the door as he's about to knock another time.

his face is beet red, his eyes full of guilt. he tells you he's sorry, something came over him and he just couldn't help himself. he wasn't trying to being gross or weird and he's so so so so so so sorry

he's very surprised when you shrug and say you've thought about him while masturbating too.

Nikolai

you think you have the wrong hotel room when you open the door to find a white-haired man spread out on your bed completely in the nude, but then you notice a pair of your panties in his hand, wrapped around his hard cock

"i'm calling security"

"no need," he sighs happily. "i'm sure you'll find they're all on my side."

you try to call his bluff, but he's surprisingly fast and he springs out of bed, grabbing you and closing the door before you can get away.

"i've been waiting for you for so long! you can't go away yet!" he crowds you against the door, locking you in with his body

"it's you... you're the one who's been following me through town."

"you're just so beautiful," he says, trailing a finger down your cheek. "I had to have you to myself."

"who are you?" you ask with a shaking voice.

"i'm Nikolai, and i'm your man for the evening. once i've had my fun i'll leave, but i have a feeling you'll want me to come back" ;)

#bsd headcanons #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi smut #atsushi headcanons #nikolai x reader #nikolai smut #nikolai headcanons

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sluttywoozi · 30 days

Text

Somewhere In The Middle | ljh x f!reader

Somewhere in the middle, I think I lied a little I said if we took it there I wasn't gonna change, But that went out the window

You and Jihoon started as roommates and naturally became best friends. After a breakup and a little too much wine, you become best friends who kiss, but there's no danger there... right?

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~9.7k | Pairing: ljh x f!reader

Genre: romance, smut, best friends/idiots to fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mention of a breakup, alcohol use, besties to besties with benies to lovers, jealous/possessive jihoon, depiction of a nightmare (lots of water involved but no drowning), appetite issues/food eating, hurt/comfort

Smut Warnings: dom!jihoon, dirty talk, manhandling, strength kink, dumbification, breast/nipple play, oral r. rec., fingerfucking, biting, multiple orgasms, piv sex, creampie, pet names (princess, good girl), allusions to f. masturbation, reader goes into subspace a lil

Reader Notes: sub, taller than Jihoon, has breasts and a vagina, gets carried by jihoon, on some form of birth control, crybaby, she’s smart i swear being around jihoon just makes her dumb

You and Jihoon have been roommates for three years and best friends for two and a half when It happens.

It’s nearing midnight and most of the lights are off, the glare of the TV illuminating the room though it’s been muted for the past hour. You’re drunk on the couch and for once, Jihoon is drunk with you, helping you lament the shitty boyfriend you finally ditched.

Well, the shitty boyfriend who ditched you.

It stings that he was the one to end things, prickles to admit that maybe you had some hand in the crashing and burning of the relationship, but you still feel valid enough in his faults to complain to Jihoon about it on this dreary Friday night.

“We hadn’t even kissed in like… weeks. And sex? I counted myself lucky he didn’t seem interested, he was that disappointing,” you bemoan, dropping your head on his shoulder and hugging his arm to your chest. Jihoon doesn’t love physical contact, but you’ve worn him down and now, you’re the only person he allows free reign.

You think he even likes it at this point, especially when he presses his cheek to your head and sighs, “Men are the worst.”

“You’re a man, Jihoon,” you remind him, tilting your head up to glance at him, dislodging his cheek and making him look down at you.

“Yeah, but I don’t count, do I?” He says sardonically, knocking his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know anymore,” you mumble. “I just miss kissing, and being touched, and-,” you hiccup, though whether it’s due to tears or to drink, you don’t know. “And I miss someone loving me.”

Your eyes are misty now, Jihoon’s face blurry even though it’s inches from yours.

“You know I love you, right?” He asks softly, and you try to smile through the tears, appreciative of him for attempting to make you feel better.

“Yeah, but not like that,” you remind him, your eyes fluttering shut and your lips pouting.

“But I could kiss you like I do.”

You peek one eye open, blinking away the saltwater in your eyes, not even flinching when he brings a hand up to wipe it away from your cheek.

“You could?”

“I could,” he nods, his brows drawn together and his mouth tight. “I don’t want you to suffer like this when I can fix it.”

You think it through for a split second, consider the fact that Jihoon is your roommate, your best friend, and decide that you don’t care.

“Okay,” you whisper, fragility clear in your voice and in the fingers suddenly clutching at his shirt.

“Just… promise me nothing will change, that we’ll still be us after,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you until his lips are a breath from yours.

“I promise,” you tell him, though in the back of your mind, something whispers that it already has.

Then he kisses you, and your brain goes perfectly silent.

All you can feel is him, his palm on your face, his fingers in your hair, his soft lips sipping at yours like the wine you downed together just an hour ago.

The room is quiet, filled only with your breathing and his, and every sensation is heightened by the peace surrounding you.

His hand tilts your face, changing the angle as he glides his tongue along your bottom lip, and when you gasp, it darts inside, learning, exploring.

Jihoon is lazy, you both know this, but apparently he’s the very opposite when it comes to kissing you because before long, he’s devouring you with vigor, panting into your mouth like he can’t catch his breath, searching like you’ve stolen it.

You’re not faring much better, your grip tight on his shirt and your cheek hot under his hand, forgetting to even breathe as he kisses you stupid. Literally, you feel dumb with it, empty headed, no thoughts occupying your mind except for Jihoon, Jihoon, Jihoon.

You suck in air when he rips his mouth away from yours, his fingers in your hair holding you back so you don’t follow him as his chest rises and falls erratically, a blush creeping up his neck and along his ears.

“You should get to bed,” he whispers, his eyes hooded and his voice rough.

“Yeah, I suppose I should,” you agree, even though you want to kiss him more, want him to take you apart, if you’re being honest. But something tells you not to push him this first night, not to ask for too much.

So you tease him instead, murmuring, “Tuck me in?” only to gape at him when he slides off the couch and takes hold of your hand, tugging you up off the sofa and to your room.

He waits on your bed as you half ass your skincare, handing you pajamas when you ask for them and getting up when you emerge from the bathroom. You climb under the duvet, think for just a second about asking him to join you, and whisper, “Goodnight, Jihoon.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers back, before leaning in close and pressing his lips to yours one last time, mumbling into your mouth, “One for the road.”

After he leaves, you fall into sleep slowly, and when you do, it’s deep, dotted with dreams that taste like him.

True to your word, nothing really changes.

Except for the fact that you just… kiss now.

When you’re tired, when you’re stressed, when you’re sad, when you’re needy.

All it takes is a look and a little pout, and Jihoon is shaking his head and pressing his mouth to yours, his hand firm on your cheek and his tongue dancing over your bottom lip. You find yourself craving him when you’re at work or around friends or sometimes in your sleep, dreams full of feeling your body under his and his arms around you.

Your kisses haven’t progressed to that yet, though you’re hoping they will soon. He usually keeps them chaste, but there are times you can tell he wants to take it further, by the way he holds your chin and angles your head so he can kiss you deeper, dirtier.

Just two weeks after that night, he’s become a habit you can’t quit.

It’s gotten to the point where he greets you with a smooch when you come home from work, a peck when you finish making dinner together, a soft kiss before you go to sleep in separate rooms.

Most of the time, you wish you could follow him into his bedroom, climb into his bed and his arms and his ribcage, squish right in next to his big, juicy heart. But you promised nothing would change, that you and Jihoon would still be you and Jihoon, and you know that if you delete the spaces between you, it would change everything.

So you content yourself with his kisses, with the little touches you steal as often as you can, with the knowledge that at the end of the day, you do have someone who loves you, even if he doesn’t love you like that.

You’re laying on the couch with Jihoon, your legs resting on top of his thighs and his big hand warm on your ankle, when he asks you if anything interesting happened at work.

Normally, you would have nothing to share, but today, something exciting did happen.

“Oh! Yeah, actually, Jun from Accounting asked me out on a date,” you gush, your legs bouncing until his hand tightens into a near painful grip.

“I didn’t know you were looking to date again,” he says pensively, his eyes suddenly on the TV and away from yours.

“I mean, I’m not really, but he’s cute and sweet and I miss sex,” you sigh wistfully, letting your cheek rest on the back of the couch as you watch his jaw clench and unclench.

“What did I say when I told you I could kiss you like I love you?” He asks, his gaze on you again and so much heavier than before, so much weightier and darker. You can almost feel it like a physical touch, the way it roves over you, assessing.

You try to wrack your brain but you come up empty, an unfortunate occurrence when it comes to Jihoon.

“I don’t remember,” you respond honestly, your main memory of that night being the kiss.

“I said, ‘I don’t want you to suffer like this when I can fix it,’” he reminds you, before continuing, “You don’t know if this Jun guy will be any good, and I don’t want him to disappoint you.”

Your breath stalls in your chest at what you think he’s implying, but you need him to clarify before you jump to your own conclusions, fueled by delusion and desire as they might be.

“So… what are you saying?” You ask slowly, pushing down the hope and heat rising within you.

“I’m saying that I’ll take care of you. You miss being touched? You miss being fucked? Let me be the one, not some rando who might not even be able to make you cum.”

Fuck. He’s so- You don’t even know what he is at this point.

You sort of feel the need to leap to Jun’s defense, but by the fire in Jihoon’s eyes, you think that would be the wrong move to make right now. You also don’t know if you can speak, with your tongue tied by lust as it is.

He’s still staring at you, his face unreadable but his hand hot, tight on your ankle, like if you tried to get away, he wouldn’t let you.

That won’t be happening, not when all you want to do is crawl closer, into his lap maybe so you can feel his chest against yours and his heat between your legs, so he can pull you into him and show you just how well he can take care of you.

“Okay,” you breathe out, because you need to respond sooner or later, and that’s the only word you can summon at this moment in time.

“Tell Jun you won’t be going out with him,” Jihoon commands, and you bristle at his domineering tone but you also feel yourself clench, just a little. You acquiesce all the same.

hey Jun! i have to say no to your offer, i just don’t really like to mix business with romance, I’m sorry ☹️

“Done?” He asks, waiting for your nod to swipe your phone out of your hands, put it on Do Not Disturb, and slide it between the couch cushions before yanking you toward him by the grip he has on your ankle.

“Hey!” You exclaim, out of breath and full of indignation. “Don’t be rude.”

“We’ve been best friends for two and a half years, you think I don’t know what you like by now?” He asks rhetorically. “You like getting manhandled, like being talked down to, and then you like being treated like the pretty little princess you are. Am I wrong?”

God, he’s so hot. You hate him.

“No,” you answer petulantly. “You’re not wrong,” you continue when he raises an eyebrow and loosens his touch.

You barely even recognize Jihoon right now, he’s being so cocky and mean and sexy. The smirk he sends you makes you shiver, or maybe it’s the fingers swiftly smoothing up your leg. Curse your little pajama shorts and curse his big, warm hands.

He’s just about to reach your panties when you whisper, “Wait!”

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are sharp on yours, his hand frozen as he evaluates you for misgivings and anxieties.

“Just-,” you sigh and wriggle a little bit in shyness. “Not here, I can get… messy.”

His smirk is back and bigger than ever as he shoves your legs off his lap, stands, and leans down to haul you over his shoulder, making you gasp and cling to him for dear life.

“Jihoon, I’m too-“

“I squat 450, babe, you’re fine,” his palm cracks down on your ass as he speaks, both his words and his touch making you whimper.

You assume he’ll take you to your bed but he takes you to his instead, and when he roughly deposits you on his comforter and pushes your hands to rest above your head, all you can do is stare as he yanks his shirt off and tosses it to the side.

You see him topless often enough, but in this context, it’s different. You actually get to look this time, and you let your eyes travel slowly over every inch of pale skin and muscle, feeling your center start to throb when he palms his growing cock and slides his own little pajama shorts down.

He leaves on his boxer briefs and sets a knee on the bed, slowly climbing over you until he’s got his hands bracketing your head and his knees spreading your thighs. You’re surrounded by him, his scent overpowering in the best way now that you’re in his bed and under his body.

This is exactly where you’ve wanted to be for weeks, but now that you’re here, you find you’re feeling a little nervous. Jihoon, obviously, can read you like a book and asks in a low voice, “Would it help if I told you what I’m going to do?”

“Um, yes,” you answer, because of course it’ll help, in more ways than one. “You already know?”

“I have the makings of a plan. First, I think I’ll kiss you until your head is too empty for nerves. After that, I’ll play with your tits until you’re crying for me. Then, I’ll eat you out until you cum, and fuck you with my fingers until you cum again,” his voice is low, seductive enough that you’re nodding without even realizing it, close to begging before he’s even gotten started.

“And then you’ll fuck me?” You ask weakly, feeling small under him even though you’re taller than him in actuality.

“Maybe. If I feel like you’ve earned it,” he teases, or at least you hope he’s teasing, because if he doesn’t give you his dick tonight, you think you might go crazy.

“I feel better, I think,” you whisper faintly, and you actually do, now that you know how he’s going to take care of you, what he’s going to do to you.

“Good, that’s the goal here.”

He almost smiles, you can see his lips twitching, but he doesn’t let them stretch in a grin. Instead, he slowly lowers his body to lay over yours, dropping to his elbows and letting his legs relax so he’s pressed up against you, weighing you down to the bed. You feel safe, secure like this, and you can’t help but sigh into Jihoon’s mouth when his lips meet yours, a soft, relieved sigh born from knowing you’re in good hands.

Good, large, warm hands, one petting your head and the other cupping your jaw to pull you into his kiss, as if you need any encouragement. He’s gentle until he’s not, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and his mouth sucking at the sting, his tongue pushing between your lips when they open on a gasp.

You feel more than hear his groan when you shyly glide your tongue against his, the sound rumbling through your mouth and straight down to your core. You’re already throbbing, just from this, and you can’t believe you’ll have to endure his evil, delicious mouth on your tits when he’s finally deemed you brainless enough to move on.

It won’t be long before that happens, you already know, because your thoughts are starting to sift through your fingers like sand, too hazy to pin down and not important enough to try. A voice in the back of your mind whispers this will ruin you, but then he does something with his tongue that makes your breath catch and your pussy clench, and the voice goes silent.

In fact, every racing thought in your mind is gone, eroded by Jihoon’s whirlwind, and you actually whine when he pulls away, your kiss-swollen lips open and attempting to chase him for more. He doesn’t let you, shifting back to sit on his knees and pulling you up with him so he can wrench off your tank top and flimsy bralette.

He lets out a shaky sigh, his eyes caught on the rise and fall of your tits as you try to regulate your breathing, before pushing you back down with a firm hand on your shoulder. He keeps the other on your waist, preventing you from just collapsing back on the bed, and follows you with his body, his gaze heady and his lips parted.

He doesn’t waste any time, immediately leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth and bringing his fingers up to pluck and squeeze at the other, both of them pebbling under his attention. They’re extra sensitive today for some reason, but that might just be because it’s Jihoon touching them, wrapping his lips around them, warming them with the heat of his mouth and fingers.

Time slips away as he works you over, his tongue plush and soft and fever hot on your tits, his fingers unrelenting, just on the right side of mean as he twists and pinches whichever nipple isn’t in his mouth. He alternates every so often, never leaving a side neglected, and eventually gets into a rhythm that has you whimpering and arching into him, begging him with your body to keep going.

You can’t feel how wet you are with your legs spread by his body like this, but you have to be soaking by now with the way your cunt is fluttering, your walls squeezing down on nothing as he sucks and bites and worries at your breasts with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. You already want him to make you cum so bad, and you distantly remember what he said just a little bit ago.

Until you’re crying for me.

Well, you can certainly do that. The tears are already rising to your eyes, already burning in your throat, making your breath hitch and your chest stutter beneath him. You don’t know when you closed your eyes but they’re bleary when you open them, your lashes lined with saltwater as you look down at him.

He’s looking at you, probably has been this whole time, and when he sees the first tear fall, he pops off your nipple and presses his smirk into your breast, his hand still firm on the other.

“Jihoon, please,” you whisper thickly, and for a moment, you’re scared he’ll make you outline what you’re asking for. He doesn’t, thankfully, just shifts back up on his knees to admire his handiwork. You can only imagine the picture you must make, your chest covered in his teeth marks and your nipples swollen and spit-slick, your eyes half-lidded with desire and need, not a single critical thought behind them.

He visibly collects himself, taking in a deep breath and letting it flow out as he tucks his fingertips in the waistband of your shorts and panties. You don’t have enough brain power to think of lifting your hips to help him so he pulls them up with one hand and wrenches your pajamas down with the other, dropping you back down to the bed when they’ve cleared your ass and he can tug them the rest of the way off.

Your legs have bent in the process, your feet resting on his knees, and he takes hold of your ankles, straightening your legs out before dragging his hands up and setting them on your thighs. You expect him to push them apart, to move you like he has been, but instead he says, “Show me.”

You’re past being shy but you still feel a little vulnerable, so it takes you a few breaths to slowly spread your legs. The air clings to your arousal, cool compared to your heat, and the longer he stares, the faster your heart beats. His hands press to your inner thighs, keeping them apart so he can memorize every inch of you.

“Fuck,” he exhales laboriously. “You weren’t kidding.”

“About what?” You ask tremulously, with not even a bit of a clue as to what he’s talking about.

“About getting messy. You’re so fucking wet, I think I could slide in right now,” he sounds far away, like he’s imagining it, picturing himself sinking his cock into you, filling you up to the brim.

Now you’re picturing it too, and your thighs try to squeeze together to soothe the ache between your legs but he’s still holding them open, and he’s too strong for you to even bother fighting his grip.

“Maybe you should,” you moan enticingly, one hand leaving its place above your head to drift over your body and down to your pussy. It doesn’t get that far, not when he levels a stern, warning look at you, one that makes your clit pulse and your heart race.

Adequately discouraged, you bring your hand back up and lace your fingers together, leaving you spread out and powerless beneath him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t hide the way the words light you up inside, make you want to be even more compliant for him, make you want to be so good you become his best girl.

He smirks at your response, a look in his eye like he’s filing every little reaction away for the future, hope blooming in your chest that maybe there will be a future. You can admit that you don’t want this to be the only time, your first and last with him.

(What you can’t admit yet is that this is already more than sex for you.)

Fuck, your thoughts are coming back, no longer so nebulous and murky, now too solid for you to swim through like before. You know Jihoon can see it in your gaze, and he moves so quickly, you can hardly make sense of it.

Before you can take another breath, he’s on his belly between your legs, your thighs still pushed apart by his hands as he all but dives into your dripping pussy. You don’t know what you expected but it definitely wasn’t this, his tongue pushing inside of you, reaching as far as it can go and licking your walls on its way out, his nose grazing your clit with every jerk of his chin into you. It feels like actual heaven, his tongue so lithe and agile and smooth as it fucks in and out of you, sparks zipping through your veins with every drag of his nose over your clit.

He refocuses his attention, his mouth shifting to suck gently at the bundle of nerves, lulling you into a dreamy state driven by soft pressure and the vibrations of his little groans around you. Your head is finally, blissfully empty again, and Jihoon seems to be able to sense the switch, because he starts sucking harder, flicking his tongue back and forth over the bud until it has its own heartbeat.

You lift your head up, tucking your chin into your chest so you can watch him, his dark hair against your thighs, his face between your legs, that smart mouth wrapped around you.

You’ve never cum from just oral before, but you’ve also never had someone eat you out with so much dedication, so much fervor, and everything is made better by the fact that it’s not just someone, it’s Jihoon.

Jihoon, your best friend who you sometimes miss even when he’s sitting right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and his arm around your shoulders.

Jihoon, your roommate who you occasionally stare at for just a bit too long when he stumbles into the kitchen wearing only his little shorts and a serious case of bedhead.

Jihoon, your Jihoon.

Suddenly, the wave is building, sucking you into its undertow, and you can’t keep your head up or your eyes open as pleasure grows and grows and grows until finally, the wave crests. It might have been your thoughts, it might have been the heady groan that reverberated around your clit, it might have been both. Either way, you’re lost under the surface in a sea of bliss, and when Jihoon breaks away and gets his knees under him, you assume it’s to offer you a hand, to help pull you out.

And then you feel that hand petting over your sensitive pussy, feel the drag of his fingertips over your clit, and you realize he’s not going to pull you out, he’s going to drown you further.

One finger slides inside of you, longer and thicker than your own, giving you something to clench down on as your walls continue to spasm with aftershocks of your orgasm. He bites out a swear, and internally you preen at his reaction to feeling you for the first time. Externally, you can only buck your hips into his touch and whine something that sounds like his name as he pulls his finger out and returns with two.

The fullness makes you sigh, the feeling of warm flesh and bone decadent after months of silicone, and when he crooks those fingers inside of you and starts searching, you know you’re done for.

You can’t ever find your g-spot on your own, your fingers are too short and your toys aren’t shaped right, and the second he locks in, you know he won’t stop. He’s the same when he’s writing a song - once he finds his flow, he could be lost to you for hours, days, weeks. The thought of him devoting that same focus to you sends a flash of electricity down your spine, one that ends with a squeeze of your cunt around him.

You can feel his eyes on you and blink your own open to meet his gaze, the eye contact hypnotizing, consuming. The next curl of his fingers brushes something inside of you that makes your face crumple, makes you forget how to breathe, and his stare grows determined as he taps his fingertips in the same spot. Instantly, you feel yourself get wetter, feel it seep out around his fingers and drip down your ass to his bed, and his face grows darker somehow, his stare penetrating and possessive.

He leaves the sensitive patch alone for a little bit, sliding his fingers in and out, getting you used to the rhythm and the sensation of being fucked with them, and then he starts grinding into it with every thrust, the muscles of his arm flexing as his pace rockets up. It sounds fucking obscene, the squelch of your soaking cunt around his fingers, especially paired with your breathy, high pitched noises, your whines and whimpers and gasps.

You’re already getting close again, but you don’t want to cum so soon, don’t want this to be over if he decides you haven’t earned his cock.

“Jihoon!” You squeak, squirming beneath him in pained pleasure, though you can’t get anywhere with his hand pressing your thigh down and his fingers filling you up.

“Be a good girl and take it for me, hm?” His voice is so low and rough, you almost don’t recognize it, but you listen anyway, trying your best to be still under his siege because all you want is to be good for him, for only him.

“There we go, that’s my girl,” he murmurs under his breath, his words like a live wire snaking around your throat, stealing your voice and leaving you to shudder beneath him as he works a third finger in and sets his thumb on your clit.

You wonder if he’s stretching you out to fuck you, or if he just remembers you tipsily spilling to him that you prefer to cum on three instead of two. You don’t want to get your hopes up so you stop thinking, just lay there and take it, exactly like he said. His knuckles pound against the lips of your cunt as he fucks you hard with his fingers, the tips hooking into your g-spot on every stroke in and scissoring on every stroke out.

You can feel heat spreading throughout your body, the fire starting in your lower belly and traveling through your veins to scald every limb, to raze every cell. You’re on the precipice of something great, something that will destroy you, but you need just a little more, though you don’t know what it is that you need.

Jihoon does, of course Jihoon does, and as soon as he demands, “Cum for me, now,” you feel the dam break and the euphoria flood you, the icy bite of release sharp and cutting, dousing all of the embers burning within you, leaving you to tremble and try to breathe through every last curl of his fingers. He’s still fucking you with them, but he’s slowed down, gentled his touch, eventually leaving them within you with his fingertips pressed right into that sensitive spongy spot inside.

You feel like you’re floating, adrift, lost, until he releases your thigh and leans down over you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that feels starkly different from the rest. This one has purpose, it has meaning, it has heart, and the sheer longing you feel for him has tears welling up and bubbling out of the corners of your eyes, dripping down the sides of your face into your hair.

When he pulls away, you can’t stop them, and soon enough, you’re bawling like a baby. Usually, Jihoon seems uncomfortable with your crying, but now, he just pulls his fingers out of you with a slick pop and wipes them off on the comforter, laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms.

He lets you cry on his chest for who knows how long, one hand rubbing comforting circles on your back and the other cupping the cheek not pressed to his pec, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a soothing pattern.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers into the air when your sobs start to taper off, replaced by soft breaths in and out as you slowly drop into sleep.

You know you’re in a nightmare.

You’re sprinting through the night, pouring rain pounding the street and covering the sounds of your footsteps. There’s a car ahead of you and you know Jihoon is driving, and that’s what tips you off because Jihoon can’t drive.

You’re running as fast as you can, but not fast enough, even though the car seems to be slowing down, the distance decreasing between it and you until you can maybe, maybe reach out and latch onto the bumper. You throw a hand out and your fingertips graze the fender, and then it speeds up and disappears from sight, leaving you alone in the darkness of the storm, water steadily rising until it covers your knees, your hips, your waist. You try to float but something is weighing you down, and just as the water surges above your head, you wake up.

You blink rapidly in the dark, unfamiliar room, your heart thumping so hard in your chest that you can feel it, though you start to calm down when you take in a deep breath and all you can smell is Jihoon. You pat around the bed for him but find you’re alone in the room, dread pooling in your stomach as you start to wonder where he is.

You won’t be able to sleep again until you see him, until you know he won’t leave you behind like he did in the nightmare, so you clumsily roll out of bed, your limbs shaky and your thighs and pussy a bit tender from the way he handled you just a few hours ago. You stumble through the door, following the sound of soft snores to the living room, where Jihoon is spread out on the couch, barely covered in a blanket.

A frown pinches his face, his brow tight with stress, and you want to smooth it out with your thumb, want to snuggle into the spaces left unoccupied, but you don’t want to wake him, and more than that, you don’t want to know if he’d push you away.

You try to tell yourself that he just likes to sleep alone, that you were too warm for him to really rest, that him leaving has nothing to do with what happened.

Deep down, you know it has everything to do with what happened.

You take in a shaky breath and exhale it quietly, praying he’ll stay asleep as you dig your phone out from between the couch cushions. He does, and you thank him for being such a deep sleeper before darting off to your room and checking your texts.

There’s one from your bestie, asking for updates about the developing situation between you and Jihoon (you could keep it from anyone but her), and a text from Jun, telling you no worries at all and that he’d see you around, which only makes your heart feel heavier.

Needing something to do, you strip Jihoon’s bed of the damp comforter and put it in the wash along with your shorts and panties, relying once again on his ability to sleep through anything.

You numbly carry out your skincare routine before putting yourself to bed, laying awake reliving every moment in his bedroom from beginning to end, ready to admit to yourself that you’ve changed like you promised you wouldn’t.

That he’s not just a best friend to you anymore.

That you no longer want to be you and Jihoon but youandJihoon, with no spaces in between.

That you might even be in-

No, you’re not ready for that yet.

You fall asleep eventually, and there are no more nightmares, but no more dreams either.

Jihoon is pulling away, and you don’t know what to do.

He doesn’t kiss you anymore, doesn’t cook with you anymore, doesn’t even watch TV with you anymore, even when you put on the anime you were powering through together. He just stays holed up in his room, keeps the door shut where it used to be open, coming out only to eat or go to the gym.

You’re trying to shake it off, the grip that night still has on you, but it’s difficult when you have no idea what’s going on with Jihoon.

Does he regret it? Is it that he can’t even stand the sight of you? What if he hates you now?

Those are the main questions that occupy your frazzled thoughts, though you fear with the way he’s behaving, you’ll never get an answer to them.

Soon enough, you find you can barely stand to be in the apartment with the ghost of him, the reminder of his absence like a punch to the gut every single time you do something without him.

You start spending more time at your best friend’s place, her boyfriend happy to lend her to you so he can game more, though he steals her back every night before you force yourself to return home.

When you do, you pass his closed door and tell yourself, you’re not in love with him, you’re not in love with him, you’re not in love with him, like a mantra.

You don’t think it’s working.

Four weeks pass by in much the same fashion, and you’re on the verge of tearing your hair out and begging him on your knees to come back when he finally shows himself.

You’re sitting in the kitchen alone, your comfort music playing on the smart speaker as you force yourself to eat even with your appetite all but gone. You hear his door open and freeze, torn between staying where you are to confront him and scurrying off to your room so you don’t have to see him.

He appears before you can make that choice, his mouth drawn tight and his face shadowed. He hesitates in the doorway like he’s not sure if he’s allowed inside, and you’re mad at him, so fucking mad at him, but more than that, you miss him.

Miss his quiet humor and his cackle of a laugh and his sparkling eyes and his warm body. You miss having his shine on you, miss knowing that you’re his favorite, that he doesn’t treat anyone else the way he treats you, that you’re special.

And fuck it, fuck everything, because you are in love with him.

So you sigh and offer, “There’s more fried rice on the stove, if you’re hungry.”

It’s not an olive branch, but a lifeline, one you frantically toss into the treacherous sea that used to be your friendship, hoping he’ll take it and let you reel him back into your arms, into your life.

He forces a smile, one that doesn’t meet his eyes or even his cheeks, just barely curling the corners of his mouth as he lumbers over. He walks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, your very own Atlas, though you’ve never known his strength to falter, not until now.

He scoops up some rice into the bowl you still habitually leave out for him and joins you at the counter, sitting heavily on the stool across from you and starting to eat. He’s slow about it, as if his appetite is as minuscule as yours. You keep your eyes on your bowl, avoiding looking at the gauntness of his cheeks and the cut of his jawline and trying to work up the courage to ask him what the fuck is going on.

An hour passes and you’ve finally finished eating, Jihoon taking both your bowl and his to the sink, quickly washing them and the utensils as you pack up the leftovers and store them in the fridge. You finish around the same time, and the chasm between you seems to widen ever further, the ledge you’re trapped on shrinking before your very eyes.

He takes in a deep breath and clears his throat, and somehow, you just know he’s going to say something that will cleave your fragile heart in two. Something like ‘it was a mistake,’ or ‘we can’t do that again,’ or-

“I don’t think we should live together anymore.”

Oh. Well, that’s infinitely worse.

“Okay,” you say dazedly, for the third time since you started this with him, because once again, you have no other words. Also maybe because you wouldn’t be able to get anything else out with the way you’re swallowing back tears.

“Okay?” He questions harshly, just a hint of life flowing back into him as his temper ignites. His brow furrows at you, his mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know where to begin because there’s too much to say. “What do you mean, ‘okay’?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? What else do you want me to say?” You can’t help but raise your defenses, attempting to protect all the little fragments of your heart as they lay at his feet.

“I want you to-,” he blinks rapidly, his face slowly turning red as he sputters, “Don’t you at least want to know why? We’ve lived together for three fucking years, I thought you’d care a little more.”

“Don’t turn this around on me! Of course I fucking care,” you don’t mean to raise your voice, but you can’t believe his audacity, abandoning you for weeks on end and then expecting you to chase after him. “But I don’t know if I want to know why, because this already fucking hurts! It’s hurt for the past month. I mean, I literally cried myself to sleep on you and then woke up alone. And I’ve been alone every day since. How do you think that’s made me feel?”

You don’t want to cry in front of him right now, not after what happened last time, but you can’t hold back the tears anymore, not when they’re burning behind your eyes and closing up your throat.

“I was trying to protect you, I still am,” he claims desperately, softening at your words and the sight of your watering eyes. “I can’t be what you need.”

“I don’t need you to be anything but my best friend,” you whisper brokenly, lying through your teeth in an effort to keep him here, keep him close.

“That’s the problem.”

He sounds like he’s pleading for you to understand, to find the hidden meaning in his words, but you’re too worked up, too on edge and hurt to make sense of anything.

“How is that a problem? You made me promise nothing would change, that we’d still be us, and now me wanting you to be my best friend is a problem?”

“Well, I’m sorry but I didn’t think I would fucking fall in love with you!” He all but shouts, his eyes wide and his chest heaving before he sucks in a shuddering breath and takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair and looking away from you.

His words ring in your ears, blending together into a jumble of sounds that you can’t parse through, until you’re not sure he even uttered them at all.

“Say that again?” You request quietly, feeling a bit out of your body, a bit out of your mind.

“Don’t make me, please, not when you don’t-,” he stops himself like he can’t bear to speak the words.

So he really did say it.

“And how do you know I don’t? Did you ever even think to ask before trying to take yourself out of my life?” You whisper with exhaustion and misery, wounded feelings warring with the hope attempting to blossom within you.

Jihoon seems stunned at your questions, like he really, truly was certain you didn’t love him back.

“Were you protecting me, or yourself?” You have to ask, if only to make him realize what seems so obvious to you.

“Maybe… maybe both,” he bites his lips and looks away, crossing his arms over his chest as his shoulders tense with what you assume is regret and perhaps a little embarrassment. That’s not why you asked him those things, and you can’t bear to see him so closed off to you still, not now that you know how he feels.

“Jihoon, I didn’t expect to fall in love with you either, but I did. Like, after the first kiss, if I’m being honest,” you laugh weakly at yourself, hoping to put him more at ease.

“You did?” He asks cautiously, waiting for your nod to let some of the tension in his shoulders go.

You take a step toward him and then another, and another, until you’re close enough to grip both of his arms and unfold them.

He lets you, his gaze back on your face, something like pained wonderment in his eyes as you tuck his arms around your waist and cup his cheeks. You lean in, your lips just inches from his, and whisper, “Kiss me like you love me?”

“Should be easy enough,” he whispers back before pressing his mouth to yours gently, reverently, his hands careful on your back as he tugs you closer. This kiss reminds you of the last one you shared, the one that made you sob yourself to sleep, but this time, there’s no longing involved, no sadness, because this time, you know he’s yours.

He pulls away before you’re ready, but you release his cheeks and let him go, love-tinged surprise bursting in you when he holds you tighter and pulls you into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and you twine your arms around his, one hand sinking into his hair to scratch at his scalp and the other rubbing his back as he breathes you in.

You’re always the one seeking affection, the one reaching for him, and you feel the cracks in your fractured heart start to seal back up as he whispers into your skin, “I love you, so fucking much.”

“I love you more,” you murmur, laughing freely when he pulls back and says, “Don’t even start, you know I’ll win.”

“Yeah, because you fight dirty,” you tease, giggling until he promises, “Baby, you have no idea.”

He claims your lips in a deep, ardent kiss, one that soon makes your knees weak and your thoughts turn to stardust in your head. One of his hands rises to the nape of your neck, holding you to him and controlling the angle so he can kiss you how he wants. The other drops to your hip, pushing you against the counter as he knocks your legs apart with a knee and fills the space in between with his body.

You gasp into his mouth and he slips his tongue inside of yours, a rumbling groan vibrating into your lips when your fingers clench in his hair. It’s so soft and his body is so hard, the dichotomy of the sensations stealing your breath as he pushes himself against you, grinding his thickening bulge into your thinly covered core.

You’re wearing those blasted pajama shorts again but of course it’s laundry day so they’re the only layer covering your center, and almost embarrassingly rapidly, you feel them dampening. You don’t know if Jihoon can feel it too but he’ll notice soon enough, and you can already picture the pleased smirk that’ll stretch his lips when he realizes how wet you’ve gotten for him.

It’s not your fault though, he’s so hot and you love him so much and he still hasn’t fucked you. It’s been four weeks since he touched you, and when you weren’t battling through nightmares, you were stuck in dreams of him touching you more. You still couldn’t conjure the feeling of his cock, or even the look of it, and deep below the raincloud of loneliness that’s been following you, there was a hunger, a yearning, a desperation to finally know him in this way.

Unable to stand it any longer, you break the kiss and summon your courage to pant, “Please fuck me, Jihoon.”

You expect him to tease you, to draw this out until you’re really begging, but he just releases you and takes your hand, dragging you behind him to his bedroom. When he pulls you through the doorway, you gasp at the sight that greets you, piles of clothes on the floor and sheet music and scrawled lyrics taped to nearly every free inch of the walls.

He’s normally clean, meticulous, about both his music and his space, and part of you feels sad, sorry that he’s been affected this much, but another part of you feels relieved that he’s suffered just like you have. The rest of you feels ravenous, and that’s what you focus on as he rips off his shirt and reaches for yours, his eyes hot on your breasts when they’re revealed to him.

His hands cover them immediately, cupping to test the weight of them and squeezing to feel the give, his thumbs rubbing circles around your nipples until they pucker for him. A shiver rolls through you as he ducks his head to suck one into his hot, wet mouth, groans vibrating against your skin like he loves the taste of you. He moves over to the other side, nipping at the bud and laving his tongue over it, his fingers pinching and pulling the one that’s still spit-slick.

When he pops off and brings his eyes back to yours, they’re deep, dark, covetous, and you’re so hypnotized by his stare that you don’t even notice he’s wrapped his arms around your waist until he lifts you and drops you onto his bed.

You land on your back, your breath exiting your lungs in a whoosh, knocked out by his rough handling, the action only making you feel hotter for him. He doesn’t give you much time to recover, his fingers tucking in the hem of your shorts and starting to pull them down. You have enough wherewithal to lift your hips for him this time, and when he tosses them aside, you don’t even wait for him to tell you what to do, you just rest your hands above your head, spread your legs, and let him see the mess he’s made of you.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, climbing onto the bed and settling on his stomach between your thighs, his head turning and his teeth latching onto the sensitive skin along the inside. It stings but you love the ache, hope you’ll bear the indentations for days after, though you know he’ll just replace them when they fade away.

He releases you when he’s satisfied, licking over the dents to soothe the burn before pressing his hands to the backs of your thighs and lifting them onto his shoulders. His eyes meet yours just as he leans forward and drags his tongue from cunt to clit, the fire in them sparking brighter when you buck into his mouth and whine sharply.

His thumbs come up to spread your pussy apart and then he’s on you, sucking, nibbling, biting, relearning every fold and contour of your cunt with apt attention. His tongue darts inside, tasting you at the source, and the groan that escapes him reverberates through your whole body, making your thighs squeeze around his head.

He moves his hands, one wrapping tight around your thigh and pulling it to the side to give him more room, the other shifting down to pet at your entrance. He lets you take in one breath before he starts to sink two fingers inside of you, pushing at your walls to make space until his knuckles are flush with your cunt.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his digits, the fullness blissful and the warmth comforting, and you almost think you have a hope of lasting more than a few minutes until his lips wrap around your clit and his fingers curl.

How he can pinpoint your g-spot after just one encounter, you don’t know, but all you can do is hold tight to the sheets beneath your hands and try not to scream as he builds up his rhythm. It’s fast, staccato, his fingers tapping into that spongy spot over and over, your arousal so abundant it’s seeping out of you.

He works in a third finger, and that’s when you know it’s over, the stretch of your inner muscles around him immaculate as he grinds his fingertips into your front wall, playing you like an instrument and drawing the orgasm out of you as if he’s conducting an orchestra.

His mouth is nowhere near as graceful, the pulse of his lips around your clit erratic and hurried, his mouth opening wider every so often to gather more of your arousal on his tongue and swallow it down.

The difference in sensations is what sends you careening over the edge, freefalling through the clouds of euphoria until Jihoon rips himself away from you and yanks you back down to earth.

“Fuck, I have to be inside of you,” he slurs, his face red and his eyes hazy. He lowers your thighs to the bed and sits up on his knees, licking around his glossy lips to chase the taste of you as he pushes his shorts and underwear down enough to free his dick.

Your eyes fly to it immediately, desperate to get your first look, and when it bobs in the air, a pearl of precum dripping from the head down the shaft, you almost want to cry.

You didn’t think dicks could be pretty but Jihoon’s is fucking gorgeous; thick and long enough to make you ache tomorrow, lightly pink toned until the head where it’s red and blushed, the entire thing so hard you feel your core throb just at the thought of having it inside of you.

“Please, please, please,” you whimper, need clear in your voice as you watch him crawl toward you.

He doesn’t stretch himself out on top of you like you expect, instead laying on his side next to you and sliding the arm closest to you under your back, gathering your legs with his other arm so you’re bundled up against his chest. You can’t help but wrap your own arms around him, holding him to you for both stability and comfort, your eyes caught on his as he looks down at you.

You love feeling so close to him after so many weeks apart, love being surrounded by him and held by him, love feeling his heart beating and his lungs expanding against you, evidence that he’s alive and he’s here with you.

“Line me up, baby. I’ll do the rest,” he murmurs low in your ear, and you obey as if you’re under his spell, reaching around your legs to take hold of his perfect cock and align it with your entrance.

“Good girl,” he whispers, just as he starts to push inside, and you know he said it then so he could feel how your pussy responds to him but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed, not when his face flushes with pleasure, his brows pushing together and his mouth falling open as he carves a path inside of you that’s just for him to tread, just for him to own. He feels like magic inside of you, the way he fills you to the brim and warms you from the inside out, the way you finally feel complete, like he’s the last piece to your puzzle.

He’s still for a few trembling seconds, and you can’t tell if he’s letting you get used to him or if he’s trying to keep from cumming, but either way, you want to torment him, just a little.

So you squeeze your inner muscles around him, luxuriating in the tightening of his hands on you and the swear he grits out, his eyes flashing heatedly at you as he draws his hips back and shoves them forward.

The loss of him makes you whine but the sudden fullness makes you keen, your cheeks heating at the sound of him bottoming out inside of you, the squelch that follows making him smirk. He can’t hold it for long, not when he gives you one testing thrust, then a second, then a third, and you cry out for him every single time.

You’re responsive in bed, you knew this already, but you never thought you’d be this loud, this wet, this pliant for him. All you want to do is lay here in his arms and let him fuck you how he wants, use you how he wants, take you how he wants, letting him know with your voice and your pussy just how much you love every single second.

You don’t want to think, or call the shots, or make decisions, not when you know you don’t need to with him, and suddenly you remember him saying, “You like being treated like the pretty little princess you are,” and fuck, he was right.

Jihoon must see it in your eyes, how the submission has taken over, because he coos and presses his lips to your cheek, still fucking in and out of you as he says, “You are my good girl, aren’t you?”

You manage to nod and whine, “Wanna be your best girl.”

His face softens even as his thrusts don’t, his voice gentle as he says, “You already are, baby. You’re my best girl and my only girl, okay? So don’t worry your pretty little head with anything, I’ll take care of you.”

That’s enough to have you tearing up again, this time in relief and rapture. He doesn’t miss a beat, kisses away the saltwater as it dots your cheeks and continues to sink into you so deeply, it’s like you can feel him in your guts.

Pleasure starts to spool up inside of you, scorching twine coiling tighter and tighter and tighter, moans and whimpers continuously escaping your parted lips as you feel a rush of molten gold surge through your veins, your pussy fluttering and then clamping down on him.

He shudders out a groan and fucks you through it, the friction on your rippling walls sublime, elongating your ecstasy until he finally breaks with you, filling you with a burst of warmth as his white hot cum coats the depths of you, starting to gather around your entrance when it has nowhere left to go.

You pant, trying to catch your breath and gather what little wits remain as he tucks his legs up beneath your thighs, removing the arm bolstering them and bringing his hand up to caress your cheek.

Your tears are starting to dry up as you slowly come back to yourself, and he brushes the remnants away, whispering soothing, affectionate words to you.

He tells you how much he's missed you, how sorry he is for shutting you out, for leaving you alone. He tells you how he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, how everything he's written for the past month has either been a love song or a breakup song, how all of them made him cry too much to record a guide so sorry, baby, but you can't listen to any yet.

Then he tells you that he loves you, that you never have to worry about being alone again, that he'll be with you for the rest of your life.

So when he carefully reclaims his arms, kisses your temple and slowly pulls out before climbing off the bed, you don’t panic, because you know that he’s not leaving leaving, that he’ll come back to you this time.

And when he does, a warm, damp washcloth in one hand and your water bottle in the other, you feel a bone-deep love settle into you, one that you know is here to stay.

AN: shamelessly self indulgent, reader is me i am reader

thank you for reading, i know this was a long one!

pls lmk your thoughts i am desperate to know 😩

this is the longest oneshot i've ever written but i really wanted to have a complete narrative and im so happy with it but also nervous to share it 🥹

inspired by pretty please by dua lipa but became a beast of its own

945 notes · View notes

surielstea · 13 days

Text

Friends who Flirt

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Az have been flirting for years, what happens when they finally do something more?

8.3k words

I pad into the kitchen and am immediately met with a humming Azriel. Shadows swish around him as he goes about his daily tasks. His humming stops and I freeze, feeling like I've been caught for gazing for a moment too long to be considered friendly. "I can feel you staring, love." He croons, not even looking up from what he was doing. "How'd you know it was me?" I frown, crossing my arms.

"Your footsteps," He says, pushing a drawer shut with his hip as he turns to look at me, a slice of leftover cake from my birthday in his hands. "Creep." I joke, opening the drawer he just shut and fishing out a fork. "New nightgown?" He looks at me with creased brows. "Mhm, you like it?" I say doing a small twirl.

His eyes drag down the airy chiffon fabric, the baby blue color complimenting my complexion nicely, and the way the lace trim cups over my breasts don't go past his notice. He nods, eyes going back up to mine as I dig a fork into the cake he just sliced. He lets me— in fact, he lowers the plate so I can have a better angle.

"The shopkeeper gave it to me for free after I bought half her boutique for solstice presents," I explain. "It was pretty on the rack so why not." I shrug. "It's prettier on you." He hums and I flick my eyes up to him with a mouthful of cake. "How would you know, you didn't even get to see it on the rack?" I tilt my head and he shakes his. "I don't need to." He hums and I turn away from him with a heat rising to my cheeks. "Are you blushing?" He smiles teasingly and just as I am about to take another bite I freeze, then place my fork down. "I thought you'd be used to people calling you pretty by now? Or is it just me who affects you this way?" He presumes and I physically deflate, that he knows me too well to keep anything from him. "Can't I just go one day without you reading me like an open book?" I sigh, hoisting myself up onto the counter.

"Speaking of which, what'd I come in here for?" I look around the kitchen to get any clue but come up with nothing. I look at him and he shrugs with a mouthful of chocolate cake. "Can't you use your shadows to figure it out?" I swing my legs back and forth as they dangle. "That's not really how they work." He placed our dishes down into the sink, my eyes following him as he made his way in front of me. "Then, how do you gain information from people?" I ask, watching as his hands come to either side of my hips, caging me in between him and the counter. "I suppose I could interrogate it out of you?" He offers and I clench my legs together at the immediate sexual thoughts that pop into my head. "But my best guess is you came in here to get a glass of wine, as you always do before bed." He explains and my brows shoot up. "You're a genius," I smile brightly. I lean in and place a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Az," I exclaim and slide off the countertop.

"Anytime." He huffs a breath.

"Want a glass?" I offer as I open a cabinet full of wine glasses. He looks at his empty plate in the sink, then nods. "I'll cut some more cake."

———

Three glasses and two slices of cake later left me straddling Azriel's hips. I don't know exactly what happened, it was all a blur but what I do know now is that some selfish part of me doesn't regret it, and with the way the Shadow Singer was gazing at me it seemed he didn't either. Three glasses wasn't enough to get me fully intoxicated but, I was tipsy.

"Your eyes are so pretty," I observe, my hands cupping either side of his face as I angle it towards me drunkenly. "Like, super pretty." I smile and his cheeks go red. "You okay Az?" I ran my thumbs over his cheekbones so sharp they could cut stone. "I have a pretty girl sitting on my lap, complimenting my eyes. Why wouldn't I be okay?" He tilts his head. "Cause your heartbeat is so fast." I smile teasingly and he mirrors it. "So is yours."

His hand comes up and intertwines with the back of mine, pulling it away from his face while his other hand finds purchase at my thigh, bare due to the fact of my short nightgown riding up from this position. His gaze holds mine but he doesn't say anything, so neither do I. Something magnetic pulls me closer to him like we were meant to slot together. "This is dangerous," I mumble as my other hand snakes around to hold the back of his head. "I don't think you care that much." He hums. "You know me too well." I grin and he leans in, crashing his lips onto mine.

I melt into the feeling, hand shooting into his dark hair as both his arms secure around my waist and drag me into his chest. My hands roam from his neck down his shoulders, his tattooed biceps that flexed beneath my touch, the same ones I've stared at for years now, the same ones I've ached to get my hands on. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." He confesses, his voice raspy as he pulls at my chin and opens my mouth for better clearance. He's precise when pushing his tongue into my mouth, his movements are calculated and careful as he explores every crack he can mold to, analyzing and memorizing just in case this ends sooner than it should.

I buzz with need, I couldn't get close enough. Every part he didn't touch left me cold, and when he pulled away I was starved. His calloused, large hands map every inch of my skin, slipping beneath my dress to span the distance of my waist without barrier, pulling me into him with the same passion I felt burning through every nerve in my body. I smile against the electric pulse that darts through the both of us.

It just felt so right, like this was what we were made for. I felt like I was on fire, and it was his match that set me aflame.

The front door swings open, inviting the freezing air to enter. I tear away from Azriel at the intrusion and look up towards the doorway, where Morrigan stood, stunned.

A smirk etched across Azriel's lips as he leaned back into the couch, staring up at me still perched on his lap with glazed-over eyes and messy lipgloss. He was sitting there observing me caught red-handed like I was a statue he just finished sculpting. "I— I'm so sorry, I'll come back later!" Mor says, a bit frazzled as she tightens her scarf around her neck and turns on her heel, leaving the house.

I look back to Azriel with heated cheeks. "You heard her coming!" I grab a pillow and hit him repeatedly with it as he playfully pushes it away. "It's just Mor, what are you ashamed of kissing me?" He tilts his head and I drop the pillow. "I need to go get her and explain." I begin clambering from his lap but his big hands that still held my waist from beneath my dress forced me back down. "One more kiss before you go?" He flashed me a teasing smile, and to his shock, I leaned down and pecked his lips lightly in such a casual way it left the Shadow Singer dazed.

I successfully slipped off his lap, scrambling to grab my coat off the rack and shoving my arms through it as I left the cozy house and stepped onto the porch where Morrigan waited, hands shoved in her pockets. "What are you doing here so late?" I whisper shout to her and she whirls to face me with a wide-eyed expression. "You're the one who has explaining to do." She returned and my jaw clamps closed. "I was only stopping by to ask if you wanted to go to Rita's with me, but you're busy." She smiled teasingly and my cheeks flushed, I blame it on the cold weather. "It wasn't like that, we're drunk." I excuse. "And horny," I add and she deadpans. "You've also been flirting with him for years." She reasons. "I knew this would happen," She sings with a mischievous grin.

She had a point, the sexual tension between us was so thick you could cut it with a knife. "So, Rita's?" She brushed past the elephant in the room, sensing I wasn't ready to talk about it. "Maybe tomorrow, I'm going to bed." I huff. "Sure you are." She winks and I roll my eyes. "I'm picking you up tomorrow then, be ready— I don't want to walk in on anything my virgin eyes shouldn't be seeing." She joked and I playfully pushed her towards the steps down the house. "Have fun at Rita's, see you tomorrow." I giggle and she waves me off.

———

"Az?" I poke my head into the Shadow Singer's office only to find him hunched over a book with a crinkle between his dark brows. I smile and mosey into the room, heels lightly clicking against the hardwood floors as I find my way in front of him, my hip leaning against the desk. "Az," I call, putting a finger to the spine of his book and angling it downward so I could see his face. "I'm leaving, you sure you don't want to come with me?" I tilt my head and he shakes him, sinking deeper into his chair, wings fanning out on either side of him. "You sure you don't want to stay?" He offers and the tone of his voice makes it sound alluring. But I've been dying to get out of the house even since that kiss, he didn't mention it so I didn't either— but I didn't just want to ignore it, he felt what I did too, I know he did. He looks up at me and his book snaps shut, eyes widening slightly.

"You're wearing that?" He swallows.

"What's wrong with it?" I look down at the cerulean-colored dress that hugged my body in all the right places. His eyes narrow at me and he sits up. "It's a bit, short, no?" He tilts his head slightly, eyes tracking over my bare thighs and a smile curves my lips. “I’m wearing shorts,” I shrug and he twists his lips to the side, clearly upset at the idea of me flaunting in a dress so short without him there to make sure no one unwanted approached me. "It's a pleasure hall, I'll be one of the more covered ones old man," I excuse as I push off his desk and walk towards the door. "Wait," He springs up from his chair and meets me in the hall. "I'll go too— just, five minutes." He rushed down the hall and stumbled into his room.

I smile widely at the reaction, I always preferred when he went out with me. Pleasure halls and clubs were never my scene, Azriel might enjoy it more than me. If Mor hadn't asked me to come out tonight I probably would be snuggled up beside the fireplace with a steaming mug of tea and a good book. Whenever Azriel went to places like Rita's with me he was always a good escape plan. He was always there to take me home if I grew bored or tired. Always.

Exactly five minutes later Azriel came out of his room, appropriately dressed. "Ready?" I tilt my head, a lock of hair falling into my face at the movement. He eats up the distance between us in two long-legged strides. He nods, reaching forward and tucking my hair back behind my ear. "You look pretty." He said and I shyly smiled. "You don't clean up too badly yourself." I hum, looking up at him with wondering eyes. His gaze caught mine, that familiar hazel had something foreign lingering in them, something welcoming that I didn't quite recognize. His gaze, just for a moment, flicks down to my lips so fast I wouldn't have seen it if I blinked. But I did see it. I stumble a step closer, that magnetic feeling coming back but before I can get any closer the door swings open, and Morrigan stands there with a cunning smile. I whirl around to face her with pinched brows. "You need to learn how to knock," I sigh, walking towards the coat rack and shrugging my coat on. "I did?" She crossed her arms defensively. I look toward Azriel with a raised brow and he just shrugs silently.

"C'mon, I wanted to be there twenty minutes ago." She grabs my wrist and pulls me out onto the porch. I grab Azriel by the hem of his jacket and pull him with me. "We're on a schedule?" I mumble confused. "Emeries shift ends soon." She grabs Azriel's arm and winnows us without warning.

My head spins at the sudden jump in the atmosphere. The cold porch of my quiet neighborhood compared to the heat of the loud pleasure hall. A wave of nausea rolls over me and both of Azriel's hands come to my shoulders, steadying me before I can tip over. He doesn't say anything, he knows I just need a moment to collect myself. So he holds me near and away from drunken fae getting too close for his liking.

"You're okay?" He says over the blasting music and I look up to him. The flashing red and blue lights make him look angelic, gods he's so pretty— and I'm not drunk enough for this. "I think I need a drink," I say back and he nods, hands leaving my shoulders. "I can arrange that." Mor croons as she grabs me by the wrist and pulls me towards the bar.

The crowd parts in half for her, making a clear path to the bar with me in tow. She finds two vacant stools and quickly swoops them before anyone else can. Emerie walks over with a smile as she washes a glass. "What can I get for you ladies?" She sings. "Just get me what you usually get," I say to Mor and she nods. She and Emerie chat for a while then she orders. I rarely drank anything but wine— but that wasn't exactly a club drink.

Emerie slides some sort of cocktail in front of me and I thank her before lifting my glass and taking a small sip. I immediately wince and put the drink back down. "What's wrong?" Mor laughs as I force myself to swallow down the burning liquid. "Strong," I croak out and her smile only widens. "Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have ordered doubles." She shrugs and my brows shoot up. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" I scoff and she grins mischievously before slipping from her chair. "I'm gonna go dance." She evades and I roll my eyes as she leaves the seat next to me empty.

Cautiously, I take another small sip from my glass but it didn't magically get any better from last time so I set it back down and don't plan to pick it up again.

Azriel finds a place beside me on Mor's forgotten stool. I look over to him with a smile. "Already tired old man?" I tease, bumping his shoulder with mine. "What?" He creased his brows, clearly not able to hear me over the music. He leans closer, lowering his head. "I asked if you were tired already," I say over the music, then pull back to look at him. He smiles softly before putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me back towards him. "You keep calling me old but we're only like three years apart." He says and I shrug, leaning closer. "It's about the mindset," I say with a soft chuckle. He pulls back and looks at me confused. "I can't hear you," He yells over the music and I roll my eyes, leaning closer than before. "I said it's about the mindset," I repeat then pull back a mere inch, our faces centimeters apart and he stares at me, either trying to piece my words together or too distracted to think about anything because he wants to kiss me again, and gods was I praying it's the latter.

"You want to get out of here?" I ask with a tilt of my head. "You're not going to drink that?" He gestures to the cocktail in front of me and I shake my head no. "It tastes like rubbing alcohol and a squeeze of lime," I reply and a smile pulls at his lips. "We can open a bottle of wine at home." He offers and I nod. "You know me so well." I stand from my stool, I presume he doesn't hear me because he doesn't reply.

———

"Are you visiting your family in Autumn tomorrow?" Azriel asks as he refills my glass. "Unfortunately," I sigh, dreading seeing my parents again. "My brother is coming in the morning to winnow me there," I explain. I couldn't winnow to my childhood home by myself, it was warded so only people who lived there could enter. My father put that in place the day I left. "Why visit them?" He creased his brows and I shrug. "They're my family," I murmur, it's the only excuse I can manage to come up with. "You have a family here too." He reminds and a smile pulls at my lips. "I know," I take a small step closer to him. We stood in the kitchen beside the counter, the lighting dimmed and soft, the opposite energy of the pleasure hall. "But they let me live here on my own without ruling over my entire existence." I shrug. "I owe them a visit every few months." I finalize and he nods, not wanting to intervene any further.

"I'll be back by tomorrow night though," I smile up at him. "You won't have to suffer without me for too long." I tease before taking a sip of my wine. He raises a brow at me, clearly amused. "You're so annoying." He let out a breathless laugh. "That's not what you said last night," I quip, leaning back against the counter, pinned under his gaze as he looks down at me.

"Careful." He warns and the deep sound of his voice has my heart rate quickening. What is wrong with me? "You don't like the truth?" I hum, my bottom lip pinched beneath my teeth as I grin up at him. "Wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you." His expression hardens. My smile doesn't even falter. "Is that a threat shadow singer?" I tilt my head tauntingly. He leans closer, his hands coming to the counter behind me and entrapping me between his arms.

"Do you want it to be?" His brow raises a fraction and my smile seems uncontrollable at this point. His eyes flick down to my lips then quickly back to my eyes. "I thought you liked my mouth?" I taunt. "Shut up already," He grumbles, hand coming to my neck before pressing his lips into mine.

I melt at the feeling I've been craving since I pulled away last night. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and lean into him. He manually angles my head so he can kiss me deeper, prying my mouth open with his tongue before sliding it in. I allow it, reveling in the feeling of his chest pressed against mine, his hands all over me, and his lips pressed into my mind. It felt unfamiliar, yet we slotted together like puzzle pieces. He filled me whole, his hands traveling down my waist to the bottoms of my thighs where he lifted me in his arms.

I tightened my grasp around him, my chest pressed to him as he carried me away from the kitchen. “I don’t want to ignore this,” I murmur against his lips. “I want you,” I confess and he smirks at the sound of desperation in my voice, making my cheeks flush. “I need you.” He hums and the knot in the base of my stomach tightens. I squeeze my legs around his torso and clutch him closer to me as I plant my lips over his again.

He walks us down the hall but I’m too preoccupied with his mouth to care where we’re going. He hums in approval when I bite at his lower lip, hungry for more. My back comes in contact with a wall and I immediately arch off of it and into his chest. One of his arms carried me while the other roamed up my body, my dress that had ridden up a noticeable amount due to the position. “Fuck me Az,” I hum greedily. He smiled against my lips and with one last peck he pulled away the slightest fraction. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words,” He purrs as he travels down my jaw, placing messy kisses down the column of my throat.

I tug at his shirt, needy for my skin to be pressed to his. I get the material up to his chest and my hands leave his shirt in favor of pressing them onto his exposed abdomen. “More,” I mumble dumbly and he latches down onto my neck in response, finding that sensitive spot and sucking, licking, nipping at it without hesitation. “Az,” I sigh out and he bites down hard enough to pierce the skin. I curse at the oddly arousing feeling and he pushes off the wall, carrying me towards his bed.

He lays me down, still hovering over me as he detaches from my neck, most definitely leaving a mark. He stands over me, looking down at my willing expression. I spread my legs further in a silent plea and a feline smirk spreads across his features. He discards his shirt and I nearly moan at the sight.

Large black wings fanning out behind him, the broadness of his shoulders, and the defined v-line at his hips make me ache. Gods, he was some sort of angel.

“Please,” I whisper as I watch him undo his belt, he doesn’t bother with his pants and takes his place over me, kissing up the valley of my breasts all the way to my lips. His large, scarred hand pushes up my tight dress. His hips settle between mine and I feel the hardness of him right against where I want him most. “Do you see what you do to me?” He said into the crook of my neck, slowly rutting his hips down onto my clothed folds. “Az,” I moan at the friction, hand coming into his hair and tangling into the dark locks.

“This dress, I wanted to rip it off you all night,” He confesses and a teasing smile pulls at my lips. “Then what are you waiting for?” I croon but don’t get a reply and instead, I’m met with a reading of fabric, the expensive dress torn in two and being discarded somewhere on the floor. “Fuck, you’re even more perfect than I imagined.” He hums as he leans up to take me in, lying under him clad in nothing but my underwear and a pair of spandex shorts. “You imagined this?” I tilt my head with a smile and he nods, leaning down and slanting his lips over mine. “Every night.” He hums as shadows swirl up my arms and wrap around my wrists, pulling them together and pinning them to the bed. I pull at them but to no avail, the darkness is much stronger. “Az c’mon,” I whine. “No baby, tonight’s all about you,” He says as he kisses down my neck and to my chest, taking my nipple into his mouth.

I moan at the sight, arching up for his access. I squirm as his hands meet my hips, pinning them down and stopping me from grinding against the air. I moan as he does something wicked with his tongue on my hardened bud, flicking and sucking on it. The sensitivity of it left me quivering.

He leaves my breast with one last swirl of his tongue and leisurely kisses past my ribs, to my navel, until his lips find the hem of my shorts. His hands are quick to discard them, joining my dress on the floor.

He continues his journey downward, two of his fingers hooking under the waistband of my panties. I can’t help but grind up at the sensation, mewling as I get a fraction of pleasure. “This is okay?” He hums and I nod. “I need words baby,” He presses a loving kiss to just above my undies. “Yes Az, please.” I consent and without any other words, he shreds my panties, tearing them into two as they fall off my thighs and the cold air hits my heat.

The smell of arousal doubles and he seems drunk on it. He leans down and licks one long stripe up my cunt, gaze pinned to me as he does so and I can’t help but maintain the eye-contact. “Fuck, baby you taste so good,” He praises, fingertips digging into my hips and I could tell he was constraining himself, holding back from how he truly wanted me. “More,” I pull at the shadows but they don’t give. “I need more,” I sigh and he obeys, live attaching over my clit and I gasped, his tongue teasingly tracing circles around the bud while he sucked on it.

One of his hands left my hips and traveled down past my thighs, two of his fingers dragging themselves through my sopping folds, coating them in his slick. “Az, I need you inside of me,” I whine as he slowly treks them down to my clenching entrance, tracing circles around the area. “Baby, you’re so wet f’ me,” He admires and I clench my eyes shut in embarrassment as I feel my arousal slip down my thighs. “All for you,” I murmur and that seems to push him over the edge because the next thing I know two of his long, thick fingers enter my craving cunt.

I cry out at the foreign stretch, his scared fingers brushing against my sensitive walls. The sensation left me grinding up onto his hand. He sucked harder on my clit and the mixture of both had a familiar coil beginning to grow in the pit of my stomach. His fingers curl teasingly slow, and as soon as he finds that sensitive spongy spot deep inside me he begins to toy with it, the sounds that escape me are unsolicited. “M’ close,” I huff out, head digging into the pillows as he lightly nips at my clit, making me scream in pure pleasure. “Cum for me love,” He whispers against my cunt, his breath fanning over my wet folds.

Then he reattaches and digs his tongue into the pink, sensitive bud, causing that coil to tighten and then snap.

A flood of white-hot pleasure consumes me, waves of ecstasy wash over me, leaving me flushed and covered in my fluids, and when I finish, it’s his name on my tongue, like it always was on those late nights when I had nothing but my own hand— but now he’s here with his tongue delving through my heat, completely entranced with me.

His fingers finally leave my cunt and he lifts away, licking his lips as to not waste a single drop of my release. His hips returned to mine, his heavy, hard cock pressing into my bare pussy and suddenly it was too much, overstimulation absorbing me as he thrashed his pants off and his hard member smacked up against his abdomen. My mouth waters at the sight of it, his tip red and leaking pre-cum down the side. I tug at the shadows binding me, wanting to touch him, to run my finger down the pulsing vein at its underside.

He tuts and presses it down onto the apex of my thighs. The heat between us was enough to light a furnace, gods he looked so perfect above me like this— and finally he had his cock lathering itself in my own fluidity. I moan as the head of it snags at my clit, his pre blending with my own juices. “Az please,” I whine out and he aligns himself with me, prodding at my entrance. We both watch as he pushes into me, his glistening cock slowly disappearing inside of me. I can’t watch for long, my body too focused on how it feels for me to be able to hold myself up. I squirmed as his wide cock pushed deep into me, and every time he entered another inch I moaned, my walls molding around him as he stretched me beyond capacity. Fuck, he’s so big. “Gods, your pretty pussy is sucking me in so good.” He grits out, white-knuckling the sheets beside my head as he refrains from slamming into me. This pace was just as painful as it was pleasurable, I couldn’t imagine what would happen if he went any faster.

He rolls his hips and in doing so enters another inch, I arch up and he goes deeper finding that familiar spongy spot, and I mewl. “There, please right there Az,” I cry out and he lets out a soft chuckle against my shoulder. “I’m barely halfway baby,” He purrs and my brows knot, how could he go any deeper? I didn’t have to wait long for the answer because before I knew it he slammed the rest of him inside of me, his tip brushing against my cervix, and the unknown yet stimulating feeling left me screaming out his name.

My nails dig into my palms as he pulls out then slams back home. His hips snapping to mine, his balls slapping against my ass. “Gods you take me so well,” He admires as tears spring to my eyes. Every time he brushed up against my cervix I couldn’t breathe, he was so fucking big. He continued to ruthlessly ram into me, his speed unmatched as he pounded past that sensitive point nestled inside of me and instead pushed to places where I’d never been touched before, and gods did I love every second of it.

“Feel good love?” He hums below my ear and I open my mouth to reply but words fail me and I can only moan, too fucked out for coherent sentences. He smiles and bites at my lobe, then presses a kiss just below it.

He continues to hammer into me while I pulse around him. “I’m so, so close,” I rasp out, my pussy raw and red as he abuses it. “So fucking tight,” He grunts as he tries to pull out but u are clenching around him too hard, sucking him back in, needy for all of him.

He slammed back in, his base brushing against my clit and that was enough for me to let go, my release coming over me full throttle as a euphoric sensation crashed down onto me, my pleasure blooming right where he was inside of me.

But once I come down from my high he doesn’t pull out, he continues slamming his tight balls into me, rolling his hips over mine. I whimper as the overstimulation consumes me, biting at my bottom lip to stop myself from crying, tears flowing down my cheeks but he doesn’t care, because I realize he isn’t an angel, no, he’s a fucking devil and he wasn’t going to stop pushing into me until his release was nestled deep inside me.

The shadows leave one of my hands, only so he can grab my wrist and guide my palm down my stomach until I can feel his cock moving inside of me. “Feel how deep I am?” He hums and I nod, too fucked out to conjure up any words. “Gods you’re such a good girl,” He praises, pulling me close as I arch into him. My now free hand comes to his back, scratching down his shoulders as my nails dig into his skin. He twitches inside of me, signaling that he’s close. He curses, not wanting this to end, but he can’t help but chase his high, somehow managing to go faster. His face falls into the crook of my shoulder and he kisses and bites at the area. “Az— Ah, too much,” I shake my head and he twitches. “Fuck, say my name again.” He sighs out. “Azriel,” I mewl, hand finding his hair and pulling at the loose curls. “Az, m’ close please,” I whine out, tears streaming down my face. “Me too love, me too.” He reassures and I nod with a whimper.

He slowly pulls out to his tip, only the head of his cock inside of me until suddenly he pushes back in, ramming into my cervix I bite down on my lip at the pleasure, and before I knot it the knot inside of me snaps and my eyes are rolling back as I finish for the third time tonight. I’m too drunk on my high to even register his warm release as it spurts into me, at my cervix, and straight to my womb. I sigh as I milk his cock of its fluids. He groaned out my name as he finished, his lips lining kisses up the side of my face as he muttered about how well I did for him.

After a moment of him nestled inside of me, he slowly pulled out, dragging moans from the base of my throat as he brushed against my over-sensitive walls. “My sweet girl,” He whispers, pecking my lips and I weakly kiss him back. Shadows unravel from my wrists and are free to move off my own volition, but I don’t, my high still lingering as his cum seeps out of my cunt.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He tilts his head and I nod. The bed dips as he gets up, puts a pair of sweats on then walks back over to me.

Gently he picked me up, carrying me bridal style to the connected bathroom where a basin of steaming water was already ready. He placed me down on the cool counter and I smiled as I watched him get a cloth and begin to wipe down my legs.

He was being so gentle not to spike my pleasure any further, cautiously wiping away at my inner thighs. I lean my head against his shoulder, too tired to sit up on my own. Shadows soothe my back, the coldness of them making me sigh in relief. “Stay here okay?” He hums as he puts the cloth back into the basin and I nod, I doubted I could walk if I tried.

He leaves the bathroom and is only gone for a few minutes before he returns with a pair of clothes. A soft smile spreads across my lips as he pulls the nightgown over my head. It was a soft, sheer chiffon the color of a pastel blue. He then hiked a pair of clean undies up my thighs then over my ass, cupping my sensitive heat.

His hands come to my waist and he lifts me, carrying me back to his bed. He places me down onto the soft mattress, the sheets cold as my head hits the pillow. He joins my side, pulling the blankets over the both of us. I flip around and look up at him, his sharp features seeming so gentle in this light. I bring my hand up and cup his neck, my thumb rubbing at his jaw.

He stares down at me with adoration and I grin, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. I wasn’t worried about what this made us, or what we were going to say in the morning. I was busy cherishing the way his strong arm came around my waist and he pulled me towards him, needing me closer. I wrap my arms around his neck and no words are spoken as we lay beside each other, occasionally pressing kisses to the other’s lips when impulsed, basking in each other’s warmth and affection.

———

I was still half asleep when I heard a door slam shut and I startled awake, launching upward. The hand around my waist slips down and I'm greeted with a groan of protest, that same arm pulling me down again. "Azriel someone's here," I say maneuvering out of his hold. "Your brother?" He mumbles and I gasp, quickly slipping from the bed as I curse myself for forgetting that he was coming today. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I repeat as I scramble for something that offers a little more coverage than my sheer nightgown.

I spot Azriel's plain black shirt hanging from the side of his desk chair and swipe it, pulling it over my head. "Come back to bed," Azriel groans, still half asleep. "Baby please," He whines when I ignore him. I throw a pillow at him and he startles upward. "My brother is here," I stress. "As in, probably walking down that hallway right now and I don't have pants, so where are my clothes," I say and he rubs his eyes. "Hamper." He points to the laundry basket and I fish through the clothes, finding my pair of shorts from last night and hiking them up my thighs.

I run my hands through my hair a few times and hope to the gods I look presentable enough to face my sibling.

I creak open the door softly, exiting into the hallway silently praying he doesn't spot me sneaking into my room. I'm quiet on my feet as I tiptoe to my bedroom, slipping in and closing the door behind me with a sigh of relief, then looking up and gasping when I spot my brother standing over my bed, my bed that clearly wasn't slept in last night. He looks to me with a quirked brow. "I was brushing my teeth," I gesture to the bathroom down the hall and he nods, taking in my appearance. "I'll be ready in ten minutes, I'm sorry, I slept through my alarm." I lie and he looks at me unimpressed. "It's fine, it's not like we're expected or anything." He snakily comments and I refrain from glaring at him and instead laugh at his sardonic joke. He leaves my room and I close the door behind him, quickly rushing over to my wardrobe. My legs were beyond sore but I pushed the pain aside. I found a day gown that was acceptable enough to wear to my parent's house and stripped out of my shorts and Azriel's baggy t-shirt before pulling the dress over my head while hobbling over to my vanity.

I was only going to brush my hair until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and decided just a brush wouldn't do. I tied my hair up in the easiest yet neatest style I could conjure. I was ready in less than five minutes and in all honestly, I was a little proud of myself.

I left my bedroom, expecting my brother to be waiting right by my door only he wasn't, he was nowhere to be seen in fact.

I wander down the hall. "I’m ready!" I call throughout the house but I get no reply. I call him again but, nothing. I pad into the kitchen and spot Azriel leaning over the counter, pouring himself a steaming cup of black coffee. "Where'd he go?" I murmur, mostly to myself but Azriel's shadows slip from his shoulders and run across the floor only to swirl up my ankles then zipping down the hall, leading me to who I was looking for.

I chase after them immediately, they traveled past my bedroom, and up the walls before curving into the creaked door of Azriel's bedroom. My heart rate picks up as I open the door wider and am met with my brother's unmistakable figure. "What are you doing in Azriel's room?" I demand and he stiffens, turning to me and revealing what he was holding up. "The better question is, what is your dress doing in Azriel's room?" He holds up the short, blue dress and I open my mouth to reply but I come up with nothing.

"Are you going to explain, or should I assume?" He tosses the dress back into the hamper, amused. I grit my teeth. "Why the hel are you going through his stuff?" I snarl and he shrugs. "Had a hunch," He explains and I deadpan. "And based on the smell in this room, I'd say I was right." He smiles down at me and I debate slapping him across the face. "Have fun explaining to mom and dad." He grins and my eyes widen. "No, wait—" I begin but he winnowed away.

Dread consumes me and I quickly winnow after him, my willpower taking me right to the porch of my childhood home halfway across Prythian.

There’s no getting in, the wards were too strong and I was far from a spell cleaver. So instead I bang on the door, balling my hands into fists as I shout through the door, two inches of wood holding me back from stopping my brother from spilling my whole life story.

It was highly frowned upon to share a bed with someone you're not married to in this area of the Autumn Court, especially with a race like Illyrians who seemed to have the exact opposite ideals as my parents. I wish I could say I didn't care what my parents thought of me but I do, anyone would.

"C'mon, open up!" I shout and before the side of my fist can come to contact the door again, it swings open. I freeze. What exactly is my excuse? I probably should've thought about what I was going to say before I tried to knock on the door. My brother was the one to open it, a smug smile on his lips as he moved out of the way to reveal both my parents staring down at me very disappointed.

"You have to let me explain," I enter the house. "We don't want to hear it." My father shakes his head. "We let you have your freedom in the night court but I won't allow you to whore yourself—" My mother begins. "I'm not whoring myself, it was one guy who I've known for over a decade," I explain and she squares her features. "Now you interrupt me? What have those brutes done to you?" Her hands come to my cheeks like I've been injured. "Nothing, mother." I swerve out of her touch. "And they aren't brutes. They’re kind people and if you had the decency to care you'd know that." I say and my father bristles. "How dare you? If we didn't care then you would've been abandoned in the streets decades ago." He claims and my heart crumbled. "You're cruel, all of you," I looked to my brother who was leaning against the bookcase, basking in the chaos he created. "I don't want to listen to your sob stories anymore," My mother put her hand up like she needed to physically stop me. "I've had enough of your, activities—" She says but I cut her off again, "I told you, I've known this guy for years," I stress. "Then I suppose you'll have no problems marrying him." She crossed her arms and I looked at her like she's gone insane. She can't be serious, right?

"What?" I say as if I've misheard her. "You know it's disgraceful to copulate outside of wedlock," She begins. "So this male must atone for stripping you of your purity." My mother reasons. My jaw nearly drops. Strip me of my purity? "If you think he's the first male I've been with you're sorely mistaken." I nearly laugh. "Well I'm sick of it, it's improper and I won't allow my daughter to be a common whore so you either marry him or I don't ever want to see you in this court again." My father bellows over the both of us and I look up at him, his eyes the same as mine. I struggle to maintain steady breathing, they can't mean that. Abandon their only daughter?

I look at my brother. This is what he wanted. He's always been the favorite, the golden child who's never had to struggle a day in his life because his mommy was always there to patch him up when he fell. I grit my teeth and decide that replying with every rageful thought I could think of wouldn't help the situation. So instead, I spin on my heel and march past my brother, towards the front door.

I grab the doorknob but before I leave I turn and look at all three of them.

"I'll see you at the reception." I hum, then turn back and slam the door hard enough behind me to knock books off shelves.

———

When I got back to the house, to my house, I finally regained control of my breathing. I open the door and slam it shut behind me, anger still pent up at my fingertips. I spot Azriel, who had frozen in the middle of the living room as if he was in the middle of pacing back and forth. "What happened? What'd they say?" He immediately questions, taking a step closer to me. My eyes fog over. Not only because I was upset about the predicament but the fact that he was wrapped up in all of this too. I assume his shadows filled him in on what happened before I winnowed away without saying goodbye.

I stay quiet and look to the ground where Shadows pool at my feet, flicking up and occasionally twining around my ankle. "Hey, we don't have to talk about it." He reaches out and grabs both of my hands in his and I wish the touch wasn't as comforting as it was, wish I could find a reason to be upset about the idea of marrying him. I didn't want to give them what they wanted.

"They," I begin but can't seem to get the words out without a lump forming in the base of my throat. "They said they're sick of me, whoring myself around," I mutter with an exhausted expression evident in my creased brows and slumped shoulders. "Whoring yourself? That's ridiculous my love you're not—" He starts. "I know," I pull him closer and wrap my arms around his torso. It seemed so intimate but if there's one thing in this world that I could rely on to make me feel better, it was Azriel's hugs. He was warm and strong and embraced me like he needed to show me his love in a way I couldn't describe.

"They want me to marry you," I whisper and his reassuring rubs on my back halt. I flinch, this is exactly what I didn't want— but his soothing ministrations quickly return after a moment so I continue to explain. “They seem to think I'm going to become a prostitute if I don't get married soon," I say, pulling back slightly and looking up at him.

"And if you don't?" He narrows his brows, mind already working to fix this. "Then they'll disown me," I mutter, letting go of him and bringing my hands up to my face. "I just— I don't know what to do," I speak into my hands. "Marrying you after spending one night together is barbaric, but that doesn't mean I never want to see my family again." I reason, my hands coming down to my sides so I can look at him. "They might be hard on me but, they're still my parents. They raised me. You can't just ignore that," I begin to ramble and his hands find my cheeks, making me slow down.

"And, obviously I want to marry you but that's not something I can force you into," I sigh and his brows rise a fraction. I wait for him to say something, anything. I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

Instead of any words he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips that I return without a second thought, so easy it's like we've been together for years. "I want to marry you." He claims against my lips and the tightness in my chest lessens. "I planned on doing it eventually, what's a little earlier?" He hums and butterflies soar in my stomach. "I just wish it was up to us," I murmur. "I know baby, I know." He presses his lips to mine once again and I melt into it. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and pull him closer. There was nothing lustful or hungry about it. It was sweet and soft and innocent, nothing like last night. He cradled my jaw with a gentleness I didn't know the Shadow Singer possessed and kissed me with such precision that I found myself falling into it. Somehow he managed to comfort me through the action, making me feel like this marriage would go just fine. I drag my hands down his arms up to his wrists and pull his touch away, then pull my lips away.

"C'mon, we've got a wedding to plan."

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judeswhore · 4 days

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something small and silly based on this

go easy on me i haven’t written in months idk what im doing

your brother's best friend was studiously trying to ignore you as you perched on the kitchen counter, his attention darting over anything that wasn't your bare legs or glossy lips. the quick clench of his jaw made it obvious that his efforts were in vain because jude didn't need to look at you for his heart to thud or his skin to heat, just the fact you were in the room was enough to make his head spin. his reaction to you was addictive and playing with him was more entertaining than anything else you could have planned for the afternoon.

"why're you lazing around in your knickers?" your brother's voice was laced with disdain, his face scrunched in disgust when he entered the kitchen behind jude. at the mention of your underwear jude glanced sideways at you from his spot by the fridge, dark eyes drinking in the yellow bikini you were sporting and you knew he was replaying all the dirty things he'd done to you in it only days before. he blinked slowly as though mesmerised by the material and the way it clung to your skin, still damp and glistening from the pool.

"it's hot." was all you said, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug as you leant back on one hand, the move pushing your boobs a little further out and causing an awkward cough to splutter in jude's throat. it had you smirking, beyond happy knowing you were making him squirm and knowing the more you taunted him in front of his best friend the more likely he was to make you pay when he got you alone.

"well, you’re an eyesore." you rolled your eyes at the insult, bringing the ice lolly you'd previously been sucking on back up to your lips and watched the two boys root through the fridge. "y'might wanna clear off by the way, the rest of the lads are coming over and none of them want to see you like that."

"the only reason your pig headed friends spend any time over here is because they get to see me." you pointed out, tongue darting out to lick the very bottom of the lolly to save the juice threatening to drip over your fingers.

jude, bottle of water tipped halfway towards his lips, narrowed his eyes at you, brows tugging together in an unimpressed scowl that made your tummy dip. you weren't sure if it was a reaction to the comment that his friends were always leering at you or the suggestive way you were mouthing at the icy goodness in your hand but you enjoyed it either way.

while your brother's head was still stuck firmly in the fridge, jude finally let himself admire your half naked body and the heat of his gaze almost felt like the soft drag of his fingertips when he touched you. it made you shiver, a full body tremor that scattered goosebumps over your arms and legs and awakened the soft tug below your bellybutton that you only ever felt around this boy. you shifted a little atop the counter, squeezed your thighs together to dull the sudden ache and watched jude's lips tip upwards, his eyebrows rising in smug satisfaction.

this was suddenly a two player game and there was no way you were letting him win.

"it's nauseating how full of yourself you are." your brother grumbled, throwing a glare at you over his shoulder as he pulled cans and snacks from the fridge, setting them down on the counter next to him before crouching to raid the freezer. jude remained leaning against the counter directly opposite you, not once letting his gaze stray from yours now the other boy was preoccupied.

"if i was full of something, trust me, it wouldn't be myself." you drawled, lighting up when jude gave a soft laugh and shake of his head, mumbling a quiet "jesus christ" that was almost drowned out by your brother's groans of discomfort.

"for once in your life shut the fuck up." he complained, voice a little muffled behind the freezer door. you had no reply to that, too focused on the way jude was watching you, eyes sparkling with unfiltered lust and that usual sprinkle of mischief. you cocked your head to the side and swung your legs out a little, heart thumping unsteadily in your chest when he threw you a lopsided grin.

there was an obvious thrum of energy between you and you hated knowing you'd have to wait until later that night when your brother had fallen asleep before you could have any sort of alone time with him. sneaking around was fun and exciting until you were overcome with the need to kiss him but could do nothing about it. with your brother busy pulling bottles and bbq ingredients from the freezer you took the few moments his back was turned to play with his best friend, to make sure that when he crawled into your bed later that night it was only with the intention of ruining you.

the ice lolly you were sucking softly on was starting to drip over your fingers, red liquid trailing slowly over your skin but you made absolutely no effort to lick it clean just yet. instead you kept your eyes locked on jude's, let it trickle over your fingers before landing on your chest and sliding between the valley of your boobs. for a couple of seconds you simply let it roll over your too hot skin, hyper aware of the other boys gaze following the slow movement, pupils blowing wide as he took in the soft heave of your tits when you drew in a breath.

brown eyes snapped back up to your face, latched onto the playfully innocent smile you'd slapped on your lips as you tried not to laugh and whispered a quiet "oops" that caused jude's jaw to tick. with your gazes locked you used a finger to swipe over the sticky liquid, clearing it as best you could before bringing the same finger up to your lips and sucking it clean, tongue sliding over the skin as though it was jude's finger you were suckling on. you were making a show of it, revelling in the sharp rise and fall of jude's chest, of the dark look on his face and the slight flare of his nostrils.

slowly letting your finger go you flashed another grin, batted your lashes and went back to licking at the ice lolly, knowing fine well the boy opposite you was seconds away from having a meltdown. he narrowed his eyes, hand dropping to adjust his shorts in a way that made your skin flush with heat, a sudden giggle threatening to bubble up your throat.

"behave yourself." despite the fact jude only mouthed the words the air of dominance was obvious, the threat hidden behind his eyes forcing you to, once again, press your thighs together to ease some of the pressure. you swallowed thickly, ran your tongue over your bottom lip to taste the last bit of the strawberry flavour.

“make me.” you challenged silently, staring at him head on as you tried not to show just how badly you wanted him to make you. you were painfully aware of the wet patch that had bloomed at the centre of your bikini bottoms and even more aware of your brother as he finally started to rise from his crouch at the freezer.

the pulse in jude’s neck thrummed, half begging you to drag your tongue across it, to sink your teeth into the soft skin and leave marks that claimed him as yours. instead you arched a single brow before hopping down off the counter, dropping your now used lolly stick into the bin as you headed for the door.

“keep your dogs away from my bedroom.” you warned your brother, knocking your hand against the back of his head when you passed, using that same hand to playing pat jude’s cheek before his best friend could turn around. “see ya later, bellingham.”

you could feel the heat of his gaze on your back, or more likely your arse, as you walked away from him and knew he wasn’t paying any attention to your brother’s ramblings about the plans for the afternoon. a satisfied smirk was settled on your lips because you’d gotten what you wanted.

you’d barely made it to your bedroom door when two large hands caught you by the waist, hard chest flush to your back, hips pressed forward so you could feel just how worked up your little show had gotten your boyfriend. a hot kiss was settled against the curve of your jaw as the two of you half stumbled through your bedroom door, jude using his strength and grip on you to push it shut and pin you against it within seconds.

“always so fuckin’ desperate for it, aren’t you?” he mumbled, fingers skimming your stomach before he let them slide between your legs, pressing lightly over your clit through the thin material of your bikini bottoms until you gasped and arched into him. “now be a good girl and stay quiet f’me and i’ll give you exactly what you wanted.”

#hey jude :)#jude bellingham #leigh’s baby blurbs #sinclaiirs baby blurbs #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham smut

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cutielando · 2 months

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social media au request for y/n narrating the grill the grid games and george russell is immediately in love so the rest of the boys spend their whole interviews trying to wingman george and talk about how gentlemanly he is?

also would you ever add logan sargeant to your master list?

social media au

synopsis: the request basically ✨

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Instagram

liked by f1, georgerussell63 and 194,712 others

yourusername GRILL THE GRID INCOMING ‼️

view all 30,184 comments

landonorris please go easy on me this year

yourusername no❤️

landonorris 🥲

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landonorris 👀

charles_leclerc 👀👀

maxverstappen1 👀👀👀

alex_albon 👀👀👀👀

lilymhe go hard on them!!

yourusername i will!!!

alex_albon babe???????????

user1 OMG YES FINALLY !!!!

user2 Y/N torturing the grid during this is my favorite thing in the whole world 🤣❤️❤️

user3 DID NOBODY SEE THE COMMENTS?????

user4 our favorite time of the year has finally arrived

user5 ALL HAIL THE QUEEN OF F1

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yourusername testing it out for myself

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user1 Y/N AND GEORGE????????

lilymhe 👀👀👀 i feel like i'm watching a live rom-com

yourusername you and me both babe 😅

alex_albon is this what i think it is?

yourusername nothing is what you think it is, like ever

alex_albon hey, no need to bully me 🥲

yourusername but you know i love doing it

landonorris i'm curious to see how things progress🤭

yourusername what makes you think you're going to be kept in the loop?????

landonorris ... but we're friends

yourusername who told you that?

landonorris 😟

yourusername 😇

georgerussell63 must be one lucky lad 😉

yourusername he really is. we both are😌

user2 i can't with these two, they're so unserious😂

user3 did we actually convince George to ask Y/N out?

user4 i think we did😅😅

carlossainz55 are you with George?

yourusername i am not at liberty to discuss this at the moment

carlossainz55 oooooh, i understand. my apologies

user6 carlos is such a dad😭😭😭

charles_leclerc did you like the restaurant?

yourusername ...i did, why?

charles_leclerc i recommended it

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georgerussell63 you would do well to shut your mouth, mate🥰

charles_leclerc yourusername nothing else to report

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 901,284 others

georgerussell63 finally grew a pair tagged: yourusername

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yourusername you're cute <3

georgerussell63 you're cuter <3

landonorris you're welcome 😁

georgerussell63 thank you, my good friend lando

landonorris 🥰🥰

charles_leclerc you were hopeless, mate😅

georgerussell63 i wasn't that bad

yourusername george, babe. yes, you were.

georgerussell63 :(

lilymhe i’m so happy for you guys 😭😭 finally

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georgerussell63 were you all waiting for me to ask her out?

carlossainz55 yes

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alex_albon yes

yourusername yes

georgerussell63 …i really am clueless

user1 WE WON GUYS ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

f1 The couple we have been waiting for ❤️❤️

georgerussell63 admin too?

f1 yup. thought you’d never do it

yourusername 😅😅

francisca.cgomes YYYAAAAAAAYYYY❤️❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

I really hope you like it !!!! Had very much fun writing it!!

It’s not as long as I would have liked it to be because I barely had time to breathe today but i really hope you like it !! ❤️

As for Logan, I might add him to my masterlist in the upcoming weeks, once I get my shit together and balance out writing with my studies haha

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comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE

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wongyuuu · 2 months

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lens of ice | yjh | one

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, smut in the next part word count: 12k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. warnings: jeonghan is kind of reckless with his body a/n: i've been writing this one for so long now and though it's not finished yet, i decided to post half of it, as a way to motivate myself to finish it. i really wanna thank @ressonancee first for giving me idea and second for helping me through all of this and putting up my crazy ass mind 💓

part one | part two (final)

The light buzzing of the fluorescent lights made him uncomfortable, it was like a premonition of what was to come. Something bad, he was sure.

Jeonghan was many things in his life, stubborn perhaps being the most obvious one, but dumb wasn't one then. He knew that his ankle was fucked up, that he was probably the cause of it. Too many hours of training, never giving himself enough time to heal before he got the ice again. He didn't know exactly how bad it was, that was for the doctor in front of him to say, but Jeonghan knew that nothing good would come out of the man's mouth.

"It's worse than I thought," the man said with a sigh, taking off his glasses "It's not just your ankle anymore, it's also your knee. And, I could be wrong, but considering the way you're walking, I'd say that you're right ankle also started to bother you"

Jeonghan hung his head. He was an athlete and he knew that he was being reckless, beyond actually. He should have gone to his coach the second he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. But he just went home, took an ice bath, and kept the whole thing to himself. Even on the following days, when the pain didn't go away at all, he still chose to keep his mouth shut and go to practice every day. And his coach, unaware of his condition, kept pushing him during practice.

Not that he needed anyone to be harsh on him, Jeonghan did all of that on his own. But having someone else do that for him as well brought out a different desire for perfection. One that came from a dark place to show someone else that he was good, to prove people wrong.

"Can I still compete?" was all he asked, it was the only thing that mattered to him "Can I make it to the Olympics? It's the last one for me, after this I retire"

The look on the doctor's face wasn't reassuring, Jeonghan knew that his next words wouldn't be the ones he wanted. He wasn't about to hear what he needed.

"If, and only if, you have surgery, take physical therapy seriously, and rest as we instruct you, there might be a possibility. Small, but it exists"

"When can I have the surgery?"

You stared at your computer screen, a hand on your forehead as you read the email your boss sent you. You sat at your desk, not really knowing what to do.

"Seungkwan!" you called without looking up "Did you get this email too?"

Just to make sure that you weren't crazy, you read it once again. The third time in less than five minutes. No matter how many times you read it, it didn't change.

"Yeah. I'm excited but scared…"

That was enough to get your attention.

"Why?"

Closing your laptop, you stood up moving closer to Seungkwan. Unlike you, who read the email many times, Seungkwan had already started his research. Not that he really needed to, everyone at the office knew that he was a huge fan of figure skating. So of course he would know all about Yoon Jeonghan.

The nation's pride and joy in figure skating, at least in the make category.

"Why scared? I thought everyone loved him"

It was impossible to look away from the picture Seungkwan had open on his computer. Jeonghan's face really was something else, as if he had been carved in marble by some ancient Greek artist. From his dark hair covering his eyes, giving him almost a mysterious vibe, to the way his lips were slightly crooked into a smile. You had to give it to him, the man was absolutely stunning. No wonder he left a trail of fans everywhere he went.

"He isn't the biggest enthusiast when it comes to the press. He barely gives interviews so I guess doing a documentary about him won't be easy"

Seungkwan kept scrolling, reading the latest news on Jeonghan. But the truth was that there wasn't any. His social media was also rarely updated, the last post was from months before.

"Well, good luck to you"

"What do you mean? You're the one in charge"

You just shook your head. The problem was Jeonghan honestly, you barely knew anything about him, though Seungkwan's words didn't help the case. The thing was that you barely knew anything at all about sports, in general, much less about figure skating. Lack of knowledge was an easy fix. The real issue was the fact that a documentary on a sport was way too different from what you usually did.

"I'm not doing this one. I have other projects I want to work on. Plus, this is too sudden. They want us to start tomorrow, Seungkwan. Do you really think that it's possible to have anything done by tomorrow?" he shook his head and you nodded in agreement "Precisely, so I'm sure that if we talk with Jihoon…"

"Nothing will change"

A curse left your lips at the sudden voice behind you. Turning around you faced the small man. Jihoon had his arms crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes that told you that no matter what he wouldn't let you off the hook. Still, you had to try.

"Jihoon, I'm not your sports person. And it's too soon. I don't anything about Jeonghan or figure skating"

Jihoon simply shook his head at you.

"They want a different approach than the average sports documentary, so I recommended you. I'm sending Seungkwan with you because I know this isn't your area of expertise, though I highly suggest you do some sort of research" he turned around to leave with a wave of his hand then turned around for a second, as if remembering something "Hansol will be your camera and sound guy. They asked for a small crew"

With a salute Jihoon left.

"Fuck"

You couldn't take your eyes away from the crutches under Jeonghan's arms and the orthopedic boot around his left leg. There was not a single article that pointed to surgery. There were plenty about his constant injuries though. Seungkwan had the same look on his face, of pure shock.

"Are you okay?" you asked once he made himself comfortable on the couch.

Jeonghan sat sideways on the couch, his leg propped up over cushions. The position looked weird but he didn't seem to mind.

"Ah, this" he pointed at his leg nonchalantly, as if it was the most normal thing "Yeah, it's okay. Had to get the surgery done in order to make it to the next Olympic"

Nodding, you looked around. His apartment wasn't as big as you had expected. In fact, the three of you stood closely together in the living room, a bit too small for all the gear Hansol said he needed.

"Put your things down, let's talk. I don't know how this is going to work"

Me neither, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. Thankfully, Seungkwan was there to help you.

"Before we start any real interview or conversation, I think we have to tell you that this was very last minute for us. We only heard about this documentary yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon" he used his kindest voice, his voice laced with concern and a hit of fear, maybe "yn is in charge, she's the documentarist, she'll be asking the questions and dictating the overall direction that we're going to take with the documentary. I'm Seungkwan and that's Hansol. This is the smallest crew he could assemble"

Seungkwan was giving too many explanations, you felt. But he also wasn't wrong. What he did was normal, he was just introducing the crew. Maybe you were a little irritated by the way you were tossed into this job, without someone giving you enough time to prepare. Sixteen hours were barely enough.

"I assume my… reputation has gotten to you," Jeonghan said, a small smile on his lips.

A reputation he had indeed. Jeonghan was known for not liking the press and journalists. He avoided them at all costs and once, on one occasion, was seen being rude. And honestly, you had to give him a pass for it. Pushing the camera away from his face, almost delicately, could barely be considered rude at such a moment. There were way too many cameras around, all of them on his face, trying to get some sort of pronouncement on why he had not made it to the podium.

And that had been years before but people still remembered him by that one moment. But what exactly did they expect? He underperformed, came in fourth place, and injured himself in the process. Was anyone expecting a happy and bright Jeonghan?

"You can be comfortable around me. A conversation like this is fine. I just don't like being swarmed"

Though his words were inviting, his face told a whole different story. He clearly didn't want this documentary.

"All of our interactions will be recorded," you told him, not leaving room for arguments on his end "These first few minutes aren't, out of courtesy and so that we can set our goals. I need to know if you're uncomfortable with anything, or something that you don't want to be filmed, either right now or before we turn the cameras on. Once we start, we won't stop"

Jeonghan adjusted his position on the couch, his eyes never leaving you. It was like he was measuring your every move. He didn't like your tone, and how aggressive you were towards him.

"I know this was last minute and I apologize for that. This is going to be my last run and, as much as I hate to admit, I'm a bit sensitive to it.

With furrowed eyebrows, you nodded. Jeonghan knew that you didn't believe him or that you cared about his reasons. He knew that the sole reason you were there was because someone made you.

"Will you need to film my family?"

"Yes, usually film family members to get a complete idea of someone's life"

Turning around you nodded at Hansol, telling him to start setting up. With a shake of his head, Seungkwan moved to help him.

"I don't want my family to know the extent of my injuries. So if you only want them for context, to know about me as a child, that's fine. But they can't know anything about this" Jeonghan pointed at his leg "I've been hiding this for a very long time and I'd like to keep it that way"

You dropped your bag on the couch, eyes tired and mind filled with one too many thoughts. The day had been easier than you expected, far more so.

Based on Seungkwan's words you had expected to fight with Jeonghan in a way. It was a documentary so you needed him to talk and talk he did. There was no question unanswered or dodged, all of his answers were precise and consistent. All of it had sounded fake like he had rehearsed them a million times.

Even if you thought that your question had been good, and had caught him off guard, Jeonghan seemed to be fully prepared for it. He didn't hesitate for a second.

In the few hours you spent around him, you finally managed to understand the fascination most people had with him. He was handsome, yes, but that was just the very basic and surface level of him. Beyonce that he was also good with his words. It was hard to tell that he was lying because he talked with conviction. After just one interview you were sure that if one day Jeonghan decided to tell you that your mom wasn’t actually your mother, you’d somehow believe him.

And the man knew all of it. He was aware of his beauty and charm, of what it did to normal people, and he used it in his favor. Jeonghan knew that most people couldn’t resist a handsome talented man. And that was a part he was all too willing to fill.

“Yeah,” you answered your phone, not bothering to see who it was, certain that it was just Jihoon.

“How was it today?” he sounded just as tired as you felt and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay.

“Fine”

“Just fine?”

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling, or at least whatever you could see with the lights turned off - not a whole lot, to be honest.

“He lied through his teeth today. There was no manager, and no coach around, though I do remember him saying someone would come. The person never showed up” you sighed “Seungkwan hates and Vernon probably thinks I’m a crazy bitch. So yeah, just fine”

Jihoon laughed on the other side of the line and you felt the little butterflies in your stomach come to life. You rolled your eyes at yourself. How pathetic it was of you, to have a crush on your boss. How very much bland of you.

Growing up, like a lot of girls that were influenced by way too much TV, you had wanted the be the odd one out. The I’m one of the guys kind of girl, or the one who refused to wear any kind of makeup or even come close to the pink because that was just girly for you. And now there you were, in love with the color pink, finding excuses to wear pretty dresses, and having a crush on your boss.

Teenage you would throw eggs at your head if she had the chance.

“Okay, but how was Jeonghan?” Jihoon pressed even further.

You sighed and closed your eyes, covering over face with your hand.

“He was polite, answered all of my questions, had a pleasant smile the entire time, and only asked for a bathroom break while we were there. Offered us food and drinks. He was fine” you said again, emphasizing the fine.

You could picture Jihoon, nodding his head and looking at the floor, probably thinking of what to ask next.

“Why would Seungkwan hate you? And why would Vernon think you’re a bitch?”

“Seungkwan thinks I went too hard on Jeonghan and Vernon just trusts Seungkwan’s judgment and goes with it”

Jihoon laughed again and you heard him moving around.

“Classic yn, going at someone while she’s angry. At least your anger was sort of directed to the right person”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you sat up.

You liked to think that you didn’t act that way all the time. In your mind, most of the time, you were able to hide your anger and just play nice like your mother had taught you to be. Jihoon’s words told a completely different story.

“Have some rest, there’s still a lot of work to do. Tomorrow you’re going with him to rehab, right?” Jihoon paused for a second and you heard a female voice in the back, you couldn’t make out what she said but you were sure of who it belonged to “I have to go. We’ll talk next week”

The line was disconnected and leaned back on the couch again. The problem of having a crush on your boss was also the fact that he had a long-time girlfriend and soon he was supposed to be marrying her.

You groaned, wondering if you had gone far enough that there was no going back from this crush.

You sat across from Jeonghan once again, the position exactly the same as the first day. But this time you chose to be less irritable.

The other day you were frustrated because you had to give up other projects to be able to accompany Jeonghan and that, thinking rationally, had nothing to do with him. He asked for a specific documentary filmmaker profile and you were chosen by the studio. Maybe it was more your fault than his. But it was also a no-return kind of situation. The job was assigned to you and there was nothing you could do to change it. So the least you could do was do your best and pray that it didn’t take a turn for the worse.

And, if anything, the conversation with Jihoon helped you focus on work. It wouldn't be the first time you were doing something you didn't want to do and it certainly wouldn't be the last. So you decided that the best thing to do was just work, showing your professional side that had been left aside before.

Jeonghan looked at you the same way, eyes serious as if he was ready for a new attack.

"Thank you," he said to Vernon, who had just placed the microphone inside his jacket, so that he could pick up the sound well, but it was not visible to the camera.

You turned to Seungkwan and Vernon, waiting for confirmation from the two that you could begin. You received a wave from each of them after they checked that the cameras were on and recording.

You took a deep breath and turned to Jeonghan.

"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," you said "I wasn't fair to you. I was irritated by things that had nothing to do with you, but I somehow decided that they did"

Everyone in Jeonghan's living room seemed to hold their breath, you included. You didn't know what to expect from Jeonghan, not really. You had been anything but ungracious with him, in a way that to most people meant that any door between you two had closed.

Jeonghan decided, at that moment, that he had two options: a) he could let the previous day dictate how all interactions between the two of you from then on would be, and it would be many months of a bad relationship that would bring no benefit to anyone involved in it; or b) he could accept your apology, which seemed sincere enough, and let go of the discomfort he felt.

Option b was actually the only possible choice.

“Okay” he finally smiled “my reputation isn’t the best, either way”

Seungkwan and Vernon breathed a sigh of relief. It was as if a huge gray cloud had moved away and the weather was beginning to clear.

“No, your reputation had no influence. I was the one who lost my hand because of my problems and for that, I apologize” you said and you were sincere in your words “But Jeonghan, I need you to stop seeing me as your enemy. I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

“You think I wasn’t honest?” he tilted his head as if analyzing you.

“In the same way that you don't want your reputation to affect the way I see you, I need you to not let the way you see other journalists affect the way you see me. I want to tell your story, however you want it told, but I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

He was silent for a minute, his eyes fixed on his hands. His hair covered his face, so it was hard to get an idea of what was going through his head.

You looked at Seungkwan, seeking confirmation that you hadn’t been rude. He seemed to be as lost as you were, but the small smile he gave you was enough to make your restless heart rest for a second.

“What if I say something and regret it later?”

It was the first time Jeonghan looked insecure and it was a strange sight, but much more realistic than the other version of him.

“We can edit it, it’s not a problem. I said that because I was angry” you said apologetically once again.

“Can we throw it all away and start again?”

Jeonghan smiled and you had no choice but to smile along with him.

“Let’s start with what’s happening now,” you said, folding your legs under your body, notebook open to a blank page and a pen ready to take notes “You underwent surgery not long ago, right? Why?"

Jeonghan took a deep breath, eyes closed for a second before placing all his attention on you. His gaze was almost too intense. You had to force yourself not to look anywhere but at him.

“A few years ago I fell during training and twisted my ankle. At the time, it wasn't a big deal and if I had stayed quiet for a few weeks, and did everything right, I wouldn't have had any problems. But I couldn't do it, I was preparing for a competition. I didn't tell anyone about the problem and just endured the pain. When I participated in the competition I fell again and that only made the situation worse. Today I have a problem with my ligament and tendon.”

With every word that left his mouth, you felt like a lump was forming in your throat, and with every second it was getting bigger.

Unlike the day before, it didn't seem like Jeonghan was lying, but you didn't know if you wanted the truth he was sharing. Even if it was a lie, a character he had created, the version of Jeonghan from before was a little brighter, a little more present in the moment. The version of him that was in front of you, that you imagined to be the closest to reality, was almost sad, detached from everything.

“Because I forced my right knee a lot, trying to compensate for the lack of my left one, I developed a problem with that one too”

“You’ve never talked about your injuries before, right?” he nodded “Why talk now?”

He was silent again, his lower lip caught between his teeth. That was a great question, one that not even Jeonghan himself knew exactly how to answer.

“I'm not sure, to be honest” he laughed a little. Instead of looking directly at the camera, his eyes were focused on you “Someone came up with the idea at some point and it didn't seem like a bad one, but I think it will only work if I make it to the Olympics.”

“Is that the ultimate goal then, to get to the Olympics?”

He shook his head, that fearless, confident look you had only seen in photos finally making itself known.

“No, the ultimate goal is to win”

As promised, Jeonghan waited for you, Seungkwan, and Vernon outside the clinic. He was nowhere to be seen, really, but the car his assistant informed you of was parked right in front of the door.

You were the first one to exit your own car, while Seungkwan and Vernon prepared the camera to follow along. You could only assume he was the manager. Terribly young for a manager, sure, but a manager nonetheless.

“I assume you’re in” he extended a hand to you “I’m Joshua”

“Hi”

The exchange of words with Joshua was quick, no more than half a dozen. You didn't have much to talk about with him and he wasn't your priority, at least not at the moment. Later, at some other time, talking to him would be great. He had introduced himself as a friend/manager of Jeonghan. Having his point of view would be great and could contribute a lot, but your eyes couldn't leave Jeonghan.

His hair was tied back, but a cap covered much of his face. He had barely said hi to you or the other two. It wasn't a big surprise. While it was true that made up to a certain extent, you didn't expect him to simply welcome you with open arms, but his reaction was strange - or as strange as the reaction of a person you knew little, or nothing, could be.

“Can we film it?” You asked.

Jeonghan stopped and turned towards you. He had forgotten that you and your team would attend his first physical therapy session, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Since the last time you saw each other, Jeonghan spent hours on end watching documentaries made by you and they all had one thing in common: they were almost like video logs. You followed everyone around documenting every tiny aspect of their lives. All those people told their stories and didn't seem afraid of having their lives exposed. And perhaps for people who didn't lead lives where they had been exposed too much, sincerity came easily.

For Jeonghan, that was never the case.

Being treated as the future, a promise of the sport, had brought a lot of harm and situations that neither he, nor anyone else, had the option to deal with or even, perhaps, ignore.

Cameras were pointed at him, rumors spread and suddenly he wasn't just Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who started skating because it would annoy his little sister. He became someone from whom people expected something.

As much as he could, Jeonghan tried to live up to all of those expectations, realistic or not. He tried to be as perfect as possible, on the ice and off of it. And it only took one day of silence, a few rude unanswered questions, and one bad performance — which had no real effect — for everything to collapse.

“You said you would film anything and everything.”

You grimaced, clearly regretful and maybe even a little embarrassed. It wasn't his intention, but he found your reaction funny anyway.

In your place, Jeonghan would have done much worse.

“Do you think it’s important?”

You nodded, perhaps more forcefully than necessary. Jeonghan laughed, he wanted to hold your head to make sure it was still in the right place.

“The documentary is about your return, so filming you here is important. I asked because it's your first session. I heard it can be painful.”

“It will probably be uncomfortable” he couldn’t deny that “Let’s do it like this, you can record it, if in the end you think it’s bad or that it doesn’t fit, we won’t use it

You quietly followed Jeonghan and Joshua out of the clinic, Seungkwan and Vernon trailing behind you talking in hushed tones. It was no surprise that they were talking. Truth was rehab had been brutal. You knew that it could get hard for Jeonghan, that it could be painful but nothing really prepared you for what you saw. And if it was hard for you to watch him go through that, it was unimaginable to understand how it was for him.

Throughout the entire session, Jeonghan looked in pain, his grunts and the scowl on his face growing with each passing second and new movement. Midway through you told Seungkwan and Vernon to stop filming. You had seen enough and you had more than what you needed for the documentary.

You would only film his rehab again when he was no longer in such pain, you decided. Out of the many things you learned about Jeonghan was that showing his weaknesses wasn’t something he was too fond of or even comfortable with the idea of it. So there was no real reason to keep recording and you couldn’t stand it either.

While you watched his face contort in pain, you felt something inside your chest tighten.

It had never been a real issue before with you. You had always managed to separate your personal emotions from the things you felt while working. More often than not you told stories that were hard to listen to, took someone’s suffering, and put it on the TV for the entire world to see in hopes that maybe a part of their lives would be changed. You had always been able to detach yourself from that.

However while inside with Jeonghan, such a thing was not possible. You felt your throat constrict and your eyes grow wet and for a short while, you couldn’t breathe either. It made no sense really. Why did it hurt to see this man, you knew nothing about, in pain to the point you wanted to cry? Why did it sadden you so much that he was limping harder than before?

You wanted to approach him, ask if he was okay, if it had been too much. But it was out of line, it was one that you knew you shouldn’t cross. There was this itch though, in the back of your mind, begging you to just ask, to just take a step closer to him.

It happened so suddenly that you didn’t even see it happening. One second it was just the five of you in the parking lot, in the next there were reporters with mics and cameras pointed at Jeonghan. You noticed how Jeonghan raised his shoulders at the same time he lowered his head. He couldn’t see in front of himself, you were certain.

Joshua put an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder while he used the other one to keep them away from him. Not that it was of any use. One of the cameras was directly under his face as if trying to get an expression, anything at all, that could show his discomfort with the situation. From somewhere behind you there were flashes.

"Do you believe your injury was a result of your own carelessness?" someone asked.

You felt your blood run cold for a second and you froze in place, Seungkwan and Vernon behind you.

"Do you think your skating career is over after such devastating injuries?" someone followed.

"Did you regret pushing yourself so hard during training, knowing it led to your injury?"

"How did it feel to watch other skaters progress while you were stuck in rehab?"

"Are you worried that your injury will define your career more than your achievements on the ice?"

The questions got progressively worse and you wanted to scream at them to just shut up, and stop. How could they just ambush someone like that with those questions? It made no sense at all. And though you knew that it would cause more harm than good you wished Jeonghan would tell them all to fuck off.

Instead, he kept his head low and just slowly walked to his car while ignoring everyone around him, all the careless words being thrown at him.

You tried to take a step forward but were held back by Seungkwan, who gripped the strap of your purse. He didn’t say a word, just shook his head.

“They can’t just do that to him” you almost cried

“If you say anything, it might only make matters worse,” Hansol said, his voice sad.

That sudden need to protect Jeonghan felt weird but oddly natural as well. Weird because you knew that you shouldn’t, because you hardly knew the guy. Natural because it felt as if you had always done that like it was just second nature to you.

“He is used to this,” Seungkwan said, still not letting go of your purse.

“He shouldn’t be! They are barely treating him like a human!”

By the time you turned around, Jeonghan was already inside the car leaving the parking lot.

The clock on the top of your phone screen told you that it was 4:37 am. You hadn't even realized that you had spent so many hours still awake.

As soon as you got home from the rehab with Jeonghan, you took a quick shower, ate the leftovers from the night before, and started to look up Jeonghan’s performances.

The man was a celebrity amongst athletes since he was a child. He was always seen as a promise of the sport. He was good from the start. Performing moves that he was still too young to do, entering competitions boys his age never really competed in and somehow managing to either come up to the podium or even winning some of them.

Everything was displayed online. Yearly competitions, practices, and small moments of his life.

Jeonghan's entire life, at least the sports part, was exposed on the internet for anyone, from anywhere in the world, to see. And it wasn't just the competitions, having videos of that part seemed completely normal and expected.

What was scary was all the other content. Some photos of him in school uniform, not one where he was actually looking at the camera, but ones that were clearly taken in secret. Another one from when he seemed to have simply gone out for coffee with Joshua.

You knew he had fans, that he was liked wherever he went, and that he was always followed, but that seemed a bit much.

In reality, watching videos of the competitions was like a gateway to everything that came after.

You knew very little about Jeonghan, only what you had read about in all the articles that you found and all of them had one thing in common: Jeonghan was a huge diva, who thought he was superior to everyone. But after seeing how he had been treated that day, as soon as he got out of rehab, you knew it wasn't like that. It was as if they had appeared out of nowhere, one second the parking lot was empty and the next it was full of journalists, shouting things and asking questions that to many would seem harmless, but were clearly intended to hurt.

Instead of watching more competition videos, not that there were many you hadn't watched yet, you decided to look for the famous video of him treating journalists badly.

You had never found one so easily on the internet. You just typed "Jeonghan and journalists" into the search bar and it was the first video to appear.

It was a scene very similar to the previous day. Jeonghan was in the parking lot, walking towards the guy when he was surrounded by several journalists.

"You didn't get the podium today, are you disappointed?" one of them asked and that was the most harmless question he got. “Did you really try hard or did you think you would get a high score because you were the favorite?” “Why did you fall in such a simple jump?” “Don't you think it was an amateur's performance?”

You didn't want to keep listening to all those meaningless questions, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jeonghan. He still had short hair at the time, even covering his eyebrows. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were hard, and his gaze was focused straight ahead, as he walked slowly to his car. Joshua tried as best he could to control the journalists with their microphones and cameras, but he was just one man against many. Finally, after what felt like ages, two security guards appeared, pushing the journalists away as they began shouting profanities in Jeonghan's direction.

Could those people even consider themselves journalists? Real journalists, who took their work seriously?

There is a very fine line between being a journalist who asks incisive questions and one who is completely disrespectful to the athlete. And those people were anything but professional.

It was no surprise that after that Jeonghan refused to give interviews.

That whole situation happened years before, at the beginning of the previous Olympic cycle, but even so, it was still a moment that haunted him. People remembered him as just that guy, someone who refused to answer simple questions. But what exactly did these people expect? That he was all smiles when he failed to reach the podium, even though he was the favorite in the competition? That he smiles when he hurts?

Finally, you managed to understand why he acted that way, and why his answers were so polite and direct. Jeonghan didn't want to leave room for interpretation. Not that he had much of a choice. People only see what they want to see, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes away from your back, he followed your every move. You stood next to Joshua, talking to him quietly, his friend showing you something on his phone. He felt something scratch at his neck. This new and unknown feeling.

It was unusual for Jeonghan, to want to have someone’s undivided attention. It was usually the other way around and he was never willing to do it, with anyone. And then there you were and suddenly he didn’t like that you were talking with Joshua.

It wasn’t like you seemed to be having fun either. You moved around with intention, your eyes always focused, your words and questions firm and straight to the point. Jeonghan couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like that with you. If your professional persona always took over who you were in other moments.

His curiosity was huge but his courage to ask was very little.

“She may seem like it, but she won’t bite your head off if you talk with her,” someone said on his left.

Seungkwan stood at his side, his hands clasped in front of him while he rocked on his heels.

“I think she will,” Jeonghan said.

Seungkwan took his reply as an invitation to sit.

“You know, in the office, people call her the ice queen” he too looked in your direction, at your serious expression "She’s like that most of the time”

Jeonghan looked at Seungkwan expectantly, he knew there was a but coming soon. All he needed to do was wait long enough.

“She didn’t want to take this job, our boss forced her to. She’s more into storytelling, real people, with real issues”

“Am I not a real person?”

The offense in Jeonghan’s voice made Seungkwan almost fall off his chair. He didn’t intend for his words to sound like that.

“Of course you are” he laughed nervously while trying to explain it as best as he could “If it were up to her, she would focus this documentary on you, on how you started skating, why, what attracted you to it, how it affected the rest of your life. But your team doesn’t want that, I think. We were told that you already gave many interviews on the matter so there’s no point in talking about it again. They want us to focus on your recovery and then you make it to the Olympics. She’s trying to figure out how to do that in a way that makes someone watch it”

Jeonghan nodded, feeling guilty. It had been his request to not the documentary so focused on the past and more on what was happening in the moment

“She also doesn’t like sports and hated the idea of the job, but that's beside the point”

Both of them laughed, eyes still on your back now that you talked with Vernon, giving him new instructions.

“I’ll make sure that she gets to do the kind of documentary she thinks is best”

Seungkwan stood up, a big smile on his lips.

“Who could have known that the ice queen and the ice prince aren’t actually that cold”

After months of just rehab, it’s finally time for Jeonghan to get back on the ice and it pained you a little to admit that you were looking forward to it. The videos you watched could only take you so far, you wanted to actually see the real thing. Him, in action.

Of course, you know that he wasn’t going to be able to do a third of the things he did on those videos. But you wanted to see him in his element, how he would behave when he was finally around the thing he loved the most in the world — his words, not yours.

The one thing you were able to learn from Jeonghan was the fact that he indeed loved what he did. Like most people, sometimes he hated it. It was the thing he was most passionate about, yes, but it was also his job, so there were days when he just hated and the mere idea of leaving the house was too much.

It was too hard to be a professional athlete, it demanded way too much of him. Of anyone, really. Sometimes he wanted to be like everyone else and just not put everything he was into it. But if he did that, he lost one single day, he was scared that he could lose an entire year and maybe that year turned into two and then he could lose his chance to go to the Olympics.

And he only had one change left.

So, instead of focusing on much he didn’t want to do, Jeonghan decided to focus on the fact that there was only a year ahead of him and he would be able to do whatever he wanted and have as many down days as he wanted.

He didn’t know what he wanted to do and what would be the after for him but it gave him something to look forward to.

“Are you nervous?” you asked him.

Jeonghan was someone who was mostly quiet. You noticed that once he started to feel more comfortable he was one to start the conversation and even crack a few jokes here and there. Seungkwan had been the first person he kind of opened up to, which had left you a hint of jealousy. You wanted to be one he talked with mostly because it was your job but also just because.

However, he had been especially quiet that day. The three of you went to meet him at his apartment. The idea was that you’d follow him the entire day, from the moment he woke up, to when he went to the doctor to get the final clear and then finally to the ring.

He had talked very little, his eyes always focused somewhere else. It was clear that his mind was traveling somewhere far, far away. So you left him be, quietly watching him just move around. A silent shooting day, you told yourself In the end, however, you had a job and he needed to do the talking.

“It’s been too long,” he said, his eyes never really leaving the ice “I don’t know if I can still do it”

You laughed, causing him to finally look at you, eyes wide on his face. He tried to look serious but the corners of his lips were turned slightly up.

“You just don’t feel confident, but you didn’t forget it” you looked at his ankle, it was still weird to see him without any sort of protection around it “How’s your ankle?”

He just shook his head and in that moment you chose to believe that he was said It doesn’t bother me anymore.

Through the interviews, you found out that Jeonghan is the kind of person to suffer in silence. It was clear from all of his previous injuries, how he competed while in pain and only ever said anything when it was almost too late.

“Do you think I can still do it?”

There was something in his voice like he was almost on the verge of breaking. He sounded vulnerable in a way that was entirely too new, in a way you wanted to push Vernon and his camera away because that was a part of him you knew he didn’t want the world to see.

Instead, you reached for his arm, patting it a couple of times, hoping that your touch, as ungraceful and awkward as it was, was able to soothe him, even if it was just for a moment.

“I was watching some of your competitions last night, again, you know? And that guy? He’s still in there, I’m sure of it, I’ve seen him”

You weren’t just saying that to cheer him up, your words were true. You had seen that version of him, little glimpses here and there. He was in the way his eyes suddenly changed and it was like he owned the entire room, in the way he suddenly turned confident, in the way he was charming in a way that was almost sickening but all too enchanting either way.

Whether or not he believed it himself, Yoon Jeonghan was a force to be reckoned with.

"What kind of kid were you?" you asked, looking up at Jeonghan.

He sat opposite to you, bent down to tie the laces on his skates. His hair covered his face, you were sure that he couldn't see much, but he didn't seem bothered by it in the least. Maybe he had just gotten used to it.

Four months had gone by since you started to follow Jeonghan and even before that, he had kept his hair long. And you hated to admit that he looked good, too good even.

"What kind do you think I was?" He smirked at you for a second before going back to his skates.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile.

"This is not how it works. I ask the questions here"

Jeonghan leaned back on his seat, giving you his full attention. His smirk did something to your insides. It felt tight and loose at the same time, like wild butterflies running around on your skin.

"Come on, humor me"

You pretended to be in deep thought, Jeonghan as a child had been something you thought about for a long time now. Even though he was very serious most of the time there were these small moments where he looked like a kid ready to do something he wasn't supposed to.

"I can only think of you as a troublemaker” you smiled, closing your notes knowing well that you’d make no progress at all with the filming “I’ve seen pictures of you and a child and although you looked very cute, I’m sure you were a handful to your mother”

Jeonghan laughed, throwing his head back and in that moment he looked so carefree.

Even since the start of the documentary Jeonghan had used his most serious expressions, a frown always taking over his beautiful features. But he had been back on the ice for a few days already and in those days he had looked the happiest you had seen him yet.

Of course, he still hasn’t practiced the way he wanted or the way he used to. He still needed to take things slowly: fewer hours, less power in the movements. But it was undeniable that he was a completely different person.

It wasn’t that he had been in a bad mood every single day but there was just something about him in his element, of him doing something he was obviously passionate about, that was so enchanting that it became impossible to look away from him.

“Where did you see those pictures?”

“You do know that I had to google you because I had no idea who you were, right?”

One thing you managed to learn about Jeonghan is the fact that, if in the right mood, he is a trickster and most of all, a flit. You weren’t even sure that he was aware of what he was doing, it seemed like second nature to him.

He put a hand over his chest, faking being in pain. His face contorted and a pout on his lips.

“I thought we were getting to know each other”.

Seungkwan coughed by your side, finally making you remember that there were people around you and that the entire interaction between you and Jeonghan was being recorded.

There was something about Jeonghan that always seemed to make you forget where you were, that maybe there were people around you. You could only suppose that it was the charm of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who knew how to sweet talk someone.

And Jeonghan knew what he was doing, what kind of words or looks could get a reaction from a woman.

Most of the time while around Jeonghan you had to remind your heart to be calm and quiet. Being around him was a temporary arrangement, as soon as the Olympics started said arrangement would be done and you’d have to go back to your normal life. One that didn’t include Yoon Jeonghan. And you also knew that there wasn’t space for you in his life.

“We’re going to set up the cameras around the ice,” Seungkwan said awkwardly while dragging Verno by the hand.

You watched as the two walked away from you, whispering in secrecy. You could only imagine the kind of things that they were saying. If you knew Seungkwan at all, you were certain that it couldn’t be any good.

“Jeonghan, I ask questions and you answer them. And while one could say that I’m getting to know you, I don’t think it would be possible to say the same thing about me”

Jeongahn's smile was defiant when he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You have a no-bullshit policy, which I should have known, from the start, but I wasn’t expecting someone like you. Although you try really hard to pretend that you’re not, your eyes are kind and you quietly take care of those around you, me included sometimes. You got worried when I was in pain in rehab and when Vernon got hurt it seemed as if you were angry, but you were concerned about him and after that, you asked to have another staff with you so that he wouldn’t need to carry so many things on his own. You and Seungkwan bicker a lot but when he isn’t around for a day you are quieter and your questions have been more direct. That doesn’t make you a lousy documentarist, please don’t think that I’m saying that, you take your job very seriously. I’m saying that you put people above your job. I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to become a documentarist, to begin with, to tell stories”

You stared at him, mouth open wondering just how he had come up with all of that and why he had managed to hit everything right on the stop. Especially the reason why you became a documentarist. It seemed very obvious, yes, but it wasn’t something that you had said.

In fact, your personal life was something that very few people knew. You weren’t one to share your thoughts and what was on your mind with people. Seungkwan was a good friend, but he was a work friend so your personal life was just that, personal. Not that you had someone to share it with, either way.

The apartment was empty when you left and it was in the exact same way and you got back. You were on your own, with no parents, no siblings and most of your friends had given up on you somewhere along the way.

For the longest time, you put your job first. It came before anything and anyone. You were building your career and name at the time so it was hard not to put it first. It was your dream, one that your friends supported at first but were displeased when you decided to put it first.

You had thought that if you made it big on your job if you got hired by a big production company, you’d be able to find the happiness that you had searched for a long time. And while some of it was true, your career was on the right path and you did something you loved, you didn’t have a lot more beyond that going one.

It was become just you and your job.

Was it sad? Yes, but it was also the life you chose.

“Just because I don’t know details of your life, doesn’t mean that I don’t watch you, yn”

You watched as Jeonghan fell for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It didn't make sense, not really. At least not for you. And from the looks of it, for him too.

He was frustrated and completely angry. All those people looking at him, expectations high, waiting for something. He wasn't sure what. For him to fail? To see if he still could do it?

Everything was possible and impossible at the same time.

He couldn't stop his eyes from going after you every time you fell. Somehow, your reaction was the only one that mattered to him. The first few times your face was completely emotionless, as if you were staring at a blank wall. Then Jeonghan fell once again, and again, and again. He stopped counting at 10, but he knew it was much more than that actually. But your gaze, which was fixed on him, became more worried as the minutes passed and he hated being the cause of it.

Somehow, since he met you, only two things were on Jeonghan's mind: skating and you.

He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but you had taken over his every thought. It was as if you had walked through an imaginary door and entered his mind and decided that it was a great place to be.

Even on days when you didn't see each other because there was no recording, he was tempted to talk to you. And on one of those days, he just succumbed to the temptation of picking up the phone and calling you.

“Jeonghan, is everything okay?” was the first thing you said.

He hated that worry was the first emotion he awakened in you. He hated that the first thing you said wasn't "hello" like a normal person. But at the same time, the concern made him feel somehow welcomed. It could, of course, be all in his head, and what he saw as concern for himself was actually concern for the documentary.

"I just wanted to talk," he admitted.

Maybe it was because he had gotten used to talking to you, maybe it was because you offered zero judgment for the way he thought or reacted. Or maybe it was because it was you. Whatever it was, Jeonghan felt comfortable talking to you.

Telling the truth, about everything, was not difficult, in fact, it became something very easy. It was because of you, he knew.

"I realized I don't know anything about you"

You laughed and he listened as you moved through what he imagined to be his apartment.

"That's because I interview you and not the other way around"

He sat on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him as he supported the rest of his weight on his arms stretched behind him.

"Do you think it's so bad that I know anything about you?"

You remained silent for a few seconds, seeming to think about the idea. It wasn't bad, not at all.

At several moments you found yourself with your cell phone in your hand, ready to send a message or call him. You weren’t sure what, but there was something about Jeonghan that just made you want to tell him everything.

"What do you want to know?" you said with a sigh.

"Whatever you want to share"

The great truth is that very little happened in your life. You lived alone, worked every day, and came home alone. Your last boyfriend, or even a fling, was over a year before. Your friends, if you could call them that, were all from work. Your life was quite still and dull. Even if you wanted to talk about work. Jeonghan was your job. There wasn't much to talk about.

"I don't think I have much to tell" you knew that what you were about to say wasn't the happiest topic in the world, but it was what you had to offer "My mother passed away when I was nineteen, since then I've been alone"

You could still clearly remember the day your father left. There wasn't a fight. He never packed his bag and left. One day he was there when you woke up, he gave you breakfast and took you to school, like he did on most days. But it was his job to pick you up and he never showed up. Your mother showed up instead, her eyes swollen as she did her smile to smile at you and explain to the teacher why she was so late. When you finally got home she said "Now it's just you and me. Daddy had to leave"

For months, years even, you waited for him to come back. You thought one day he would just appear in front of you. You were disappointed when it was your mother who showed up to pick you up when he didn't come to his birthdays when you called the number he had left with his mother and he never answered.

You waited until you turned 18 to go after him. You only had a name, but with that alone, a person can find everything on the internet. You found him in another state, working at a real estate agency. You sat down in front of him and talked for about half an hour. You made up a story about going to college and needing a place to live. You said your name and your mother's name several times, surname and everything, and at no point did he seem to connect one thing to the other. Until the last second, when you said you would think about renting the studio he had suggested, and he walked you to the door. He said, "I left for a reason, don't come back here."

You couldn't believe what you had heard. You couldn't understand why he left and why he never came back. But at that moment you decided that if he didn't want you, you didn't need him. Your mother had worked so hard to make sure you had everything you needed.

Exactly one year later, your mother died in a bizarre car accident. It was like being 7 years old again and losing another person, only in a much more painful way.

"You don’t have any siblings?" Jeonghan's voice on the other end brought you back "Relatives?"

You shook her head, even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"I was an only child, so no siblings. My mom was an orphan so relatives either. My father left when I was a child"

You and Jeonghan spent the whole night on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. From trivial things to more personal matters. His delight upon learning that you didn’t have a boyfriend didn’t go unnoticed.

Calls and messages became commonplace between the two of you. Your heart raced every time a new message arrived and it was hard to hide your disappointment when you realized it wasn't from him. On days when you didn't see each other, you would stare at your phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for him to call.

So you hoped he understood when you shook your head in his direction, a request written on your face. That's enough for today, you can try more tomorrow, you hoped he would understand.

Instead of trying one more time after he fell once again, he skated to the edge of the ice. His face was red from the effort, and his chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm trying to force air back into his lungs.

"I want everyone out," he said, his voice broken.

Seungkwan and Vernon didn't even question it, they simply started putting away the equipment. Jihoon, who had shown up unexpectedly to "supervise" didn't seem to understand what was going on, but turned to help Vernon.

Jeonghan's coach was the only one who approached him, his hand on the athlete's shoulder.

"Go home, rest. Tomorrow we try again"

Jeonghan shook his head. He would only get out of there after managing to make the damn jump, even if he had to stay the whole night.

"Just half an hour more, but I want to be alone"

The coach clearly didn't like the idea, but he knew it was stupid to try and make Jeonghan change his mind.

You turned to him, looking at his face, trying to figure out if he was in pain or if he was just being a big blockhead. Without giving yourself the luxury of thinking about what you were doing, you placed your hand over Jeonghan's and squeezed for a second. You hoped he understood what you meant.

"You have to rest"

You knew everyone was watching, that despite saying they were leaving they weren't actually moving. Jeonghan didn't seem to care and for a moment you decided not to care either.

“Stay,” he said softly, so only you could hear him “please.”

Some strands of hair were stuck to Jeonghan's face, you wanted to get them out of his face, but caution spoke louder. You looked over your shoulder and everyone was still looking at the two of you, but as soon as they noticed your gaze they started moving again. Seungkwan shouted “We’re leaving” and seconds later the door slammed.

Finally, you were alone.

“You have to rest,” you said again.

You took advantage of the fact that no one else was there and removed the strands of hair stuck to his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Jeonghan sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned towards you. Just that little touch wasn't enough.

“I need to get it right”

"If you stop now and rest you will know what you are doing wrong"

A half smile shined on Jeonghan's face as he leaned further into the barrier, his face just inches away from his.

"My ego loves it when you say I'm doing something wrong”

You pushed him back, needing a little bit more space to yourself. He was too close, you could feel his breath on your nose and cheeks. It was suddenly as if the world was made of Yoon Jeonghan, it was just him and no one else.

“I’m sure your ego will be just fine”

Instead of pulling your hand back, you allowed it to stay in his chest. Jeonghan smiled for a second before pressing his hand over yours.

“Just another 30 minutes” he repeated what he said to his coach “I promise I’ll stop in precisely 30 minutes”

You nodded with a sigh. There was nothing you could do to stop him. Something told you that even if you threatened him to leave he would stay and practice, he would stay on the ice for far more than just 30 minutes if you weren’t around.

So you sat down and waited for him. And he fell time and time again, his face growing displeased with himself at each passing second, each time he jumped but didn't manage to land.

Jeonghan had done that same jump countless times before with ease as if one's body would simply perform such movements. To him, it always seemed as easy as walking. You had seen it in all of his videos, almost in trance by him.

“If you’re not done in twenty-one minutes” you pretended to look at your imaginary watch “I’m taking you out of there by force”

Jeonghan threw his head back, laughing.

“Remember when you said that you never skated before?” Jeonghan asked after finally being able to breathe properly again.

You weren’t too sure how, but he had stopped after 30 minutes. A big smile on his face after he managed to land the jump after so many tries. After getting it right once, he didn’t get it wrong again. It was like something clicked inside his brain as if he had found the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Of all the things you said to Jeonghan, from the most personal to the most trivial, that was, by far, the only one you regretted. You had told him over the phone but he looked horrified, it was easy to imagine the wide eyes on his face.

But him standing there, in front of you, with a smile that could only be seen on the face of a mischievous child, said much more than any words he could utter.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, already moving back.

You had learned several peculiarities about Jeonghan in all the months you spent by his side, and one of the most glaring was the look in his eyes when he was about to do something he shouldn't.

“You have to try, at least once” his lips were a mixture of a smile and a pout “You will have the best teacher in the world”

You saw it and shook your head again.

“I can’t trust a teacher who spent the day falling” you pointed to the rink behind him.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You didn't know if your words would offend him, you hoped he knew it wasn't your intention. But you also knew that hell was paved with good intentions. Jeonghan was silent for a minute, his face serious, his eyes not leaving yours for an entire minute.

Then he smiled, his nose wrinkling a little as he laughed, loudly. It didn't take long for you to join him.

“You’re evil,” he said, trying to control himself, but failing “This way you’re going to break my heart”

“I think there are few things in this world that can break your heart.”

You would definitely be one of them, Jeonghan wanted to say, but he held his tongue in his mouth. He knew he couldn't say that, he knew that any word said wrongly could simply ruin everything he had built so far. If he could even say he built something. He liked to think so.

From the first time you spoke, Jeonghan knew there was no going back, at least for him. He had never done anything like that. He had never called someone in the middle of the night simply because he wanted to hear someone's voice. And in this case, it wasn't just someone's voice, it was your voice that he wanted to hear.

With each passing sentence, Jeonghan found himself falling more in love with you and he wasn't able to say why. Maybe he could blame it on your eyes, always so focused, but somehow when they turned to him, they seemed so sweet and sincere. Or your voice, which gave orders and asked incisive questions, but as soon as the cameras were turned off it became gentle and almost shy. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed like a lioness when you were working, never giving space for unfounded questions, but you were shy when it was just the two of you alone.

He liked this version of you, who was right in front of him, who seemed completely comfortable with him, to the point of making jokes — something that until that moment you hadn't done yet.

“We always have extra pairs in the back, I'm sure one of them is your size” he had made sure you would, with Seungkwan's help of course “And then we try it, what do you think?”

Even though you were shaking your head, you went to the closet where you knew the skates were stored.

With your knees bent and shaking, you stepped onto the ice and immediately regretted giving in to Jeonghan's will. You didn't know how he had managed it, but in the closet, there was a brand new pair of skates, your size. Jeonghan had smiled as he bent down to tie your shoelaces,

“I’m going to fall flat on my face,” you said as you grabbed the bars.

Jeonghan held your face in his hands, your eyes fixed on his.

“I won’t let you fall”

The way the words left his lips made your heart skip a beat, or maybe several of them. You could feel it on the back of your throat and you could swear that your hands shook a little as you accepted the hand Jeonghan had extended to you.

You wished it could just stop. Not for your heart to stop beating altogether but for it to stop reacting to Jeonghan. Everything changed after that first call and you weren’t too sure of where it was. He had, someway, somehow, become a pivotal point of you. His voice, his eyes. The way tingles started to run down through your body the moment his skin came in touch with yours. How, despite all odds, he made you feel safe in a way you weren’t too sure you had ever experienced before.

When he said that he wasn’t going to you fall, you believed him so you held his hands — strong enough that you were sure were hurting him but he didn't seem to mind — and allowed Jeonghan to pull you into the rink.

“Don't move your feet” he said, voice ever so sweet but with a slight hint of teasing “I know it's probably hard, but let me take control here”

Forcing out all of the remaining air inside your lungs, you did as he asked. Instead of keeping your focus on the ice under your feet, you kept them in Jeonghan's face. A mistake, of course.

His eyes were too intense if you could say that. You didn't want to understand what was happening. Perhaps for the first time since you met Jeonghan, you didn't want to understand what it could mean. You were scared. What, exactly, you weren’t sure.

“I didn’t even have to ask you to look at me,” he said and you laughed a little, automatically looking away “Keep looking at me”

The whole experience of skating for the first time, or being guided, was not being registered by your brain. All you could see, think, feel, was Jeonghan, as if he had become a central point of everything.

“I think we should stop here”

You hoped your voice was loud enough and judging by the look on Jeonghan's face, it was. The smile fell from his lips and it was as if a small light in his eyes had gone out.

You hated that you were the one causing that reaction in him, but you knew it was best to stop everything before it went too far.

"I thought that…"

“We can’t blur the lines that much” you shook your head.

You didn't know exactly who you were trying to convince, him or you. You also weren't sure you had to convince yourself of anything. It was as if your brain had split in two. One part, probably the loudest, wanted you to just let things happen. You knew you weren't doing anything wrong, you weren't doing anything much really. What you did outside of your working hours and who you did it with was your problem and no one else's.

But the other part, one that spoke softly and that should have had much less strength, said it was dangerous, but also didn't offer much reason to be dangerous.

Yet somehow, that was the side you chose to listen to.

"Why?" He asked forcing his feet to the ground, making the two of you stand in the center of the rink. “What line are we blurring?”

You shook your head, hands clinging to his waist as you felt your feet begin to slide.

“I don’t know” you whispered in response “We are working”

Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed his lips to your cheek. With a sigh, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder and closed his eyes.

You didn't know exactly where your skepticism came from, but you were also sure it wasn't completely unfounded. But truth be told, you wanted to blur that line and any others that might appear along the way.

“Go on a date with me,” he said “If you still feel that way, there’s nothing we can do. Just don’t… don’t stop something that hasn’t even started yet”

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satorusugurugurl · 22 days

Note

Currently thinking about switch reader and switch toru, where reader would be riding him while he’s a crying whining mess, maybe even tying his hands up, but as soon as she gets off of him he’s ripped the binds on his wrists and is flipping her over to give her the same treatment

-🍭

Silk

Characters: Gojo Satoru, FAB!Reader

Warnings: Bindage, silk ropes, choking, smut dirty talk, switch!gojo, switch!reader

Word Count: 1,119

A/N: F-Feral, submissive, whinning Gojo is one of my favorite Gojo’s!! 🫣

Gojo Satoru was the strongest. It was something everyone said, including himself. Yes, your boyfriend was the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Which meant he got sent on missions a lot, which you didn't mind. He always came back home to you, cocky and ready for a sweet treat as a prize for himself.

What people didn't know was that when Gojo came back from a long or tedious mission, he needed you. Satoru needed you in a way that he never, ever let other people even know about. Because what would that into his reputation? What would happen if people knew Gojo Satoru wasn't always the strongest in bed?

Sure, Gojo loved fucking you into the mattress. But days after two week-long missions, he wanted to sit back and let you take the reins. He was beginning to regret his choice to let you do what you wanted now.

“A-Ah, holy fuck!” Gojo’s eyes flooded with tears, his blue eyes watching his cock disappear into your pussy as he slowly, and he fucking meant, slowly bounced up and down on him. “Y/N babe, please!” He cried out, choking on a sob as you clamped down on his oversensitive cock. “P-Please, move faster!”

“I'm sorry; I thought you told me to enjoy myself, Toru.”

“I-I did! But I-I need more.”

You stopped moving altogether, sitting on his lap, cockwarming his throbbing cock. He whined in protest, struggling against the blue rope binding his wrists together. There was something about seeing him like this. Gojo was so needy and desperate that it had your pussy twitching with need. Feral horny Satoru was fun, but this submissive Satoru hit a different kind of button inside of you.

His hips weakly tried rocking up into you, but you hummed, slowly pulling up off him until he was an inch from popping out. “N-No, wait, what are you doing?! Please, please don't!” With a sneer, you slammed yourself back down onto his length, taking all of him in one go. “HAA!” Blue iris’ were the size of pin pricks as you repeated the same pattern, over and over, until he was choking on moans.

“Look at you~ such a good boy, Satoru~” Your boyfriend's chest heaved, eyes shut tight as you leaned forward, your fingers wrapping around his neck. “Are you my good boy~?”

Satoru bucked his hips cock throbbing as he shook his head. “I-I’m not a fucking sub.” A sadistic smile crossed over your face as he bounced faster, moaning as you felt the coil in your tummy tightening.

“Ooh~? Is that why you're blushing like a whore~? Do you want me to stop?” he shakes his head, “I asked you a question.” Fingers tightened around his throat, and you savored the way he cried out. “So answer it; are you a good boy?”

The way you spoke the degrading tone, made everything feel better. It was like he was in his domain, and everything was much more intense. His balls clenched, and a strangled cry overcame him as the first waves of his orgasm rolled over him.

His hands fought against the silk ribbon you so cruelly bound him with. “I-I’m a good boy! I'm a good boy!” Crying out, Satoru threw his head back, cumming inside of your pussy as you bounced harder, faster before slamming down on him completely, cumming with him.

Heavy breathing flooded the room as your heart rate began to slow. Only when you were positive you weren't going to pass out from pure orgasmic bliss your gaze fell on your boyfriend's face. Satoru’s bangs hung over his eyes; his ivory-perfect skin flushed red.

He looked so fucked out of his, drool spilling from the corner of his mouth. His chest was moving rapidly; his stomach muscles clenched underneath you. God, he looked so delicious like this, but at the same time, he seemed out of it. A little too out of it.

“Satoru?” He didn't respond. “I'll go get you some water.” Inching yourself off Satoru’s semi-hard cock, you gasped as the tip popped out. With jelly legs, you got off him, standing up slowly. “Baby, I'll be rig-” Looking over your shoulder, you came face to face with stunning blue eyes. “T-Toru?”

In one swift movement, Satoru yanked his wrists apart, ripping the blue silk bindings. Large hands gripped your hips, throwing you down on the mattress. The fluidity of his actions left you breathless, his hips pressing against yours. His hard cock throbbed before plunging inside of you.

“Nnngh! Fuck!” Satoru growled, hearing your cries of pleasure. One hand gripped your hip so hard you knew you'd have bruises later. “T-Toru!”

“You thought it was cute tying me up like that?” His voice was dark, lips on your neck, breathless words tickling your ear. “Oh, you got nothing to say now?” he thrust deeper, his cock hitting your cervix head-on. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” His free hand grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them against the mattress. “Not so funny now that you're in my position, is it?”

You couldn't find the words to respond other than ‘fuck’. Satoru was fucking your brains out. Literally rendering your use of human language useless. All you were capable of doing was crying out his name as his cock slammed against your g-spot and your cervix with each thrust.

“Ah! Mnnngh T-Toru!” He chuckled, the hand in his hips moving, rubbing your clit in circles, his other hand squeezing around your wrists tightened, making your eyes roll back.

“Who's my good girl?”

“Haah, ah~!”

“Answer the question Y/N! Who's my good girl?!”

“M-Me! I am!”

Satoru took your earlobe between his teeth, picking up the pace of his sensual movements. “Then be a good girl and cum on my fat cock!” His eyes shut tight as you obeyed him, jerking and screaming, your orgasm bringing him over the edge of his second one. “That’s right, good girl~ good fucking girl~!”

The warmth from your lingering orgasm and Satoru’s body laid over you. Satoru’s bare chest hummed with a satisfied groan before trailing kisses up your neck all the way to your lips. The kiss was soft and full of adoration, his strong hands cupping your face. Before he collapsed next to you, his arms dropped over you, pulling you close.

“Next time, you'll be the one tied up.” He whispered over the back of your neck, grinning against your skin as you squirmed. “And baby, that's a fucking promise I intend to keep.”

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

Me & Mr. Miller

au!Joel Miller x f!Reader [5.2k] summary: You and Joel had a deal to stay away from each other. The only obstacle is—neither one of you wants to do that. He might be the father of one of your closest friends and someone a few (many) years older than you, but... who cared. Not you. Not him. The deal wasn't going as planned. 📝 in this scenario the outbreak never happened! joel miller is doing just fine! If you enjoy it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ age gap, misunderstanding, secret relationship, pining, strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, dirty talking, love-making.

masterlist |

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Winter of 2023.

"Aw, shit, Joel. Fuck," Tess turned to him with her face twisted into a weird, panicked smile, and that's exactly when Joel realized he'd gone and fucked up again somehow. "You set me up. You set me up!"

"What?!"

"We could've at least told me you were inviting me to Sarah's birthday to be eaten fuckin' alive—is she still looking at me? Goddamn," the panic left for a second, replaced with a knowing smirk that he was unfortunately too familiar with. "She's got really nice eyes, I'll tell you that much. Were you gonna tell me I came here to make your girlfriend jealous? And really—is she still looking? 'Cause those are very intimidating eyes, and I'm gonna need to prepare myself."

There was no preparing to look into your eyes.

Joel would know.

He was done for the minute he laid eyes on you. The way you looked at him.

His hands started to sweat, and his mouth ran dry. He had to look. Gravity couldn't keep him from it.

"You know... a lot makes sense now," Tess starts.

"Don't."

Tess chuckles, hiding it in her drink. "Jeez—did you win her by blabbering her ears out? 'Cause I only got a single look into Miss Daggers for Eyes, but she looks—"

"Jesus Christ, I'm gonna regret having brought you, won't I?" Joel interrupts because he can't turn around as sharply as he'd like, and he can feel it already. Your eyes on him.

Tess stops hiding her laughter, "Oh, for sure. And only because I'm gonna make it very hard for you because you didn't tell me. Because you think that not talking about it makes things just... go away," she wiggles her fingers like dandelions in the sky, and Joel loves his best friend, but she can be a bit of a dick.

"I was gonna tell you," he sighs, fidgeting inside the stupid blazer; sipping his bourbon to ease the jitteriness inside his skin already proved to be a terrible fucking idea when in your presence. "I was—" and where are you? There are a lot of people behind Tess' shoulders and Joel could spot you in a football crowd.

"Jesus." Tess enunciates every letter. "Joel, find her so you can have your focus back."

"Just for the record, she isn't my girlfriend," he states.

Tess scoffs, and it says more than words could.

"She isn't," he presses.

"I believe you," says Tess. "But now I also know I wasn't crazy when I said you were happier last year after going to New York. You were. And Miss Daggers for Eyes—"

"She has a name."

"—is the reason. Does she? Does she have a name, Joel? Her parents are so kind for giving her one," Tess sasses. "I would know her name if you hadn't hidden her from me."

"I didn't hide anybody, there was nobody to hide. Also, can you shut up? You're louder than my thoughts."

The next laugh comes accompanied by a slap on the shoulder, and Tess walking away, but not before whispering in his ear. "Joel, buddy, I wholeheartedly believe you had the best intentions with bringing me here, but here's a tip you didn't ask for: Not one of you is as over whatever the hell happened as you may think. Talk to her."

Talk to her.

As if it was that simple.

As if there wasn't a deal.

Joel needs to find you, but first, he needs another drink.

He gulps down his glass and tries to smile as the guests pass him by. None of them seem to notice his imminent heart attack. None of them see through his carefully curated nonchalance, and he's happy about that.

There's already a person present who can see through him like glass, and he can barely deal with that one.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤNYC, Spring of 2022.

You stood no chance against him.

The first time you saw him, Joel looked like a Wes Anderson visual.

Pink suit, grey strands unabashedly mixed in his soft, shiny black hair, and a shy smile to put any of the other men present to shame.

You were drawn like a moth to a flame.

He looked quite serious without that beautiful smile on—he looked like someone who would, in fact, never wear a pink suit, so you walked over to him and slid right next to his spot at the bar. "That's a bold outfit choice," were your first words. You smiled when his eyes landed on you, so wide and filled with surprise; warm, and stunning like a hot summer day. "But it suits you."

Joel looked stunned for a moment.

He blinked, sipped his bourbon glass and his eyes did a not-subtle-at-all up and down. Then, he put down his glass and the corner of his mouth twitched with the idea of a smile. "I lost a bet," he answered. You recognized the southern accent immediately. "Believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe you," you chuckled.

"It suits me, though?" he asked, opening his arms to the sides.

You nodded. "It does," your peripheral vision caught Bruna approaching behind the bar, and you smiled at her. "Hi, babe. Can I get a caipirinha, please?"

"Hey, girl," she smiled at you and used all of her subtlety to glance at Joel observing the exchange. "Sure thing. Vodka, sake, or cachaça?"

"Bruna, you know there's only one way to do a proper caipirinha," you rolled your eyes.

Bruna smiled. "Cachaça it is, then. Lemon, or something else?"

"Hm, how about an unexpected fruit? Surprise me."

"You got it. Anything else?" she asked.

"Nope, just remember to drink some water. You always work too hard," you winked at her.

Bruna left to make your drink with a blinding smile on her face, and you turned around to find Joel staring. He leaned on the counter with his arm supported on it, and as soon as you looked at him he asked, "Where d'you two know each other from?"

You pointed at the huge banners of NYU standing behind you. "She goes there — I go there."

"You go to NYU?"

"I do," you answered. "Getting my phD, actually," your smile always came out at that.

Joel's face never hides his surprise, but the smile was unexpected and very welcome. "Wow. Congratulations."

"Thank you. I imagine you're here because of the Spring exhibition?" you looked around at the gallery where everyone around looked as posh as you and he did, save for the curious New Yorker just enjoying their walk.

"I am. My daughter has a paper on display on the third floor," he replied.

"Politics and Law area?"

"That's her," he confirmed.

"I have a few close friends in the department," you smiled. "It was my first stop."

"Are you here showin' something too?"

"I'm actually here as one of 'somethings' to show?" No matter how long in the business, talking about being the art itself was always surreal. Especially in front of otherwordly handsome and charming men. Where was Bruna with your drink when you needed her? "My roommate's exhibition won the main exhibit, and we — dancers — are her tool. Her paint."

"You're part of the main exhibit?" He looked every bit impressed, and you nodded, feeling giddy at the prospect. "Double wow. Wait—shouldn't you be backstage, then?"

"Oh, no, gods, no. This whole thing stays here all afternoon, the final piece is only at sunrise—6pm, kinda?"

"Okay. And do I get to know your name before you run off to become art or d'you plan on dropping a crystal shoe so I can roam around later tryin' to find out?"

That had been the first time he made you laugh.

Truly laugh; not a few breaths out of your nose or an easy chuckle—Joel was silly, and he looked like modern-day Adonis in the stupid pink suit that he only wore because of a goddamn bet, and you had no chance.

"I'm Joel," he extended his hand.

That had been the doom of it all—no last names. Only smiles.

You shook his hand and offered your name back, only for him to repeat it out loud.

Test it on his tongue.

You were always doomed.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Winter of 2023.

Jealousy looked godly on you.

Joel hated himself for even thinking it, but he hated himself a lot this evening.

He had hurt you, for starters.

The only thing he set himself not to do, and he'd done it.

More than a year has passed since the fateful day you stepped, yet better—waltzed into his field of vision, and had he known a day of peace ever since?

The day he met you still played on his head like a broken record stuck inside a player:

Saying goodbye to Sarah in front of the gallery, turning around the corner, and seeing you with smoke blowing in front of your face, smiling at the sight of him. You in your green dress. The happiness written all over you, the obvious and earnest glee of seeing that Joel was still around.

Walking with you all around New York, feeling three times less intimidated by the imposing streets with you by his side. The smell of your apartment, the street food you two got on the way, the conversation that flowed as easy as a river stream.

Joel had the imprint of your shining personality burning behind his eyelids. The taste of strawberry from your caipirinha permanently inked on his tongue.

He stood no chance against your eyes—as much as she teased, Tess was right.

Miss Daggers for Eyes.

The way you looked at him at said, "You gotta stop looking at me like that, Joel. I'm starting to think you're not paying attention to what I'm saying," even though you already knew that to be true. Since the moment the strap of your blouse fell from your shoulders and you kept on talking, Joel was fish in a net.

He had the taste of your cunt and the smell of being buried between your thighs waking him up late at night for the next months to come.

The way you rode his face just as he asked you to—no mercy, no shame, only that, only your desires and the alcohol and the weed and the conversation and everything—everything, everything, everything.

Joel took it all out like a starved, greedy man, and you took it back, and neither of you slept until the sun was shining again in the sky.

The next couple of months were filled with texts since Texas demanded him back home and you were already home.

It could've been just friendship.

It was supposed to be simple.

So what if you two called each other and got off while on the phone like a couple of young adults who can't bear to be away from each other? So what if Joel texted you and had to endure Tess and other co-workers smiling at him and wondering, "what the hell's got Joel Damn Miller in a good mood, huh?"

So what if Joel learned more about you than he could admit to himself that he even wanted to know? Even if he was the one asking?

It didn't matter, because it wasn't simple.

Because when you called and said, "Your name is Joel Miller?" he realized why Sarah said he was such a 'distant concept'. No social media meant nobody to pry, but it also meant misunderstandings.

It also meant having to answer you with apprehension, because your tone had never been that off. "It is. Why are you sayin' it like I'm on a list or somethin'?"

"Joel." His stomach fell at his name alone. "You're Sarah's dad. Fuck. Of course you are—"

"Wait, you know Sarah?"

"Yes, I know Sarah. I'm friends with Sarah, or I was before—oh god, she's gonna kill me. She is, isn't she?"

He had assisted you through your panic even though he felt the same.

He walked outside his office, talked you through your next breaths, and guaranteed you there was no reason to panic. "That's it, it's ok, hun'—," he stopped, cursed mentally, and rectified his mistake with his name. You were not his hun, and Joel had been lost on cloud nine without realizing you could've never been. "Just breathe. She doesn't know. She won't know. You two are fine."

That had been it, or so he thought.

Joel stared a lot at the last message he received from you. Thought about sending something else. Continuing the conversation.

Instead, he let the silence make the dust settle.

It had been a haze.

A dream, or a glitch in the matrix—it wouldn't be happening again, and no matter how much he looked at the text you sent weeks prior — i really like talking to you, Joel — nothing would change.

Except it did.

Except — the silence amounted to nothing.

One look at you across the street and Joel was dragged back in.

That Summer when Sarah invited him back, Joel had almost said no, but he remained as able to deny her anything as when she was a kid. The weekend went perfectly, and Joel did his best to not think of you as he was there, but all it took was a few words on a screen:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤSaw Sarah's IG stories. You loaok so good when you smile , JoelㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLove how the sweater looks on yoyu

Drunk baby. Honey.

The second time there was no deal on the table yet, but there was you.

Joel appeared at your apartment door at twenty past two in the morning and only left a couple of hours before his plane left.

You two pretended your apartment was a bubble.

It worked.

Joel had missed you. It sounded silly when he thought it early in the morning before leaving for work—when everyday routine served as bitter medicine it was enough to convince himself it was all just wishful thinking.

With you in the same room as him, lying was harder.

There was no 'wishful' part on how well you two worked.

There was a divine inspiration in the way you made him feel like something new.

Joel felt warm, wanted, devilishly handsome under your gaze. Your careful touch.

"You're so fucking handsome," you repeated to him.

He never thought about his looks, but he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the truth in your words. How much you believed them. "Glad you think so."

"Don't snicker at me like that, Mr. Joel—"

"Snicker? I ain't snickerin', I'm laughin'. You keep tracing my wrinkles like that and I'm gonna get a complex, hun."

"The drama. You're so lame! Oh my god."

"And yet, you're laughing. You know, that's the same shit my daughter says. I'm startin' to think it's true."

"It is. You're silly. But it's okay —" the tip of your fingers tracing his features felt like the first drops of rain hitting the skin. Joel shivered under your touch more times than he cared to count, and he'd only been present for it a couple of times. He'd hate to think of how much you could ruin him with enough time given. How much no other touch would suffice anymore. " — 'cause it's all part of your charm..."

Who would've thought Joel still had it?

Charm.

No amount of charm made up for the situation, though, and before you left, you asked the inevitable question. "No one can know, right?"

"No." He knew what was at stake—your friendship with his most important person. Maybe more. "It was just our last time."

"Right. We're not doing this again."

"We can stay away from each other. I like it like this," he said, pressing his face in your beard-burnt neck, inhaling your sigh and perfume. "But I know..." she can't know.

No—no one can know.

He nuzzled into you, and you nuzzled back. Dug your fingers in the fabric of his shirt. "We can still... talk, can't we?" you asked.

Joel's chest clutched and he held you a little tighter. None of you were at fault for the circumstances, so you both deserved some more stolen time. "We'll talk." He kissed under your ear. "We'll stay away from each other. Talk. Friends can talk. We just—we don't do this anymore. And, no one can know it happened."

"Okay." You sounded muffled against his chest, and Joel thought about how he'd miss touching your hair like this. "I'll just — take a while. To be able to look at you and not —" you stopped abruptly, and pulled away to look up at him and show him not what.

Not look at him with eyes that demanded a kiss.

Without pulling him in by the fire in your eyes.

That had been then — July gave him you again. You for the last time.

The next time Joel saw you after that had been a few weeks ago. Sarah invited you to a party during the holidays, and third time was the charm.

You two talked like good, old friends.

The longing in his chest was ridiculous, the whole entire time.

Now—

jealousy looks good on you.

Sarah's birthday was big enough for Joel to have his eyes on you without you even realizing it. From his bedroom porch, Joel saw you walking by the pool between the guests with that set to your jaw. Another friend of Sarah's stopped you and started a conversation, but the look refused to leave your face.

The problem was—there was nothing Joel could do.

If he pulled you aside to clarify that Tess was only a friend, a work friend who Sarah has called 'Aunty Tess' since she was fourteen, he would be wrong.

Rubbing salt on the wound.

What did it matter what Tess was?

You two had a deal.

Gods, Joel was getting too old for this—too old to watch things from a distance, to see the sadness on the pout of your lips and crave to run and kiss it away, to realize when the lights of the party hit your face in the right angles that your eyes are shining and fuck—

He gets back downstairs and leaves the glass somewhere along the way.

No more bourbon for him.

Joel hears his name called a few times. Allows himself to be distracted by conversation here and there. He's good at lying to himself—he's done it often enough by now. Joel keeps himself trimmed from the deep wants and needs that grow like weeds through his bones, even if he isn't sure why.

Something so rich like you — of course it wasn't for him.

What would he do?

You're Sarah's dad. Fuck.

Sarah's father — he clapped the louder, smiled the brighter, and when the candles were blown and she handed him the first piece of cake, Joel wondered if he should feel guilty for going after someone who's close with daughter of all people.

All he could feel was sadness as he saw you disappearing in the crowd after talking to Sarah in hushed tones inside a hug.

Joel needed to find Tess.

He should leave — his house would be the roof for a lot of people tonight and he needed to talk, maybe—Joel started laughing as soon as the thought came to him.

That's how much you affected him.

He leaves in direction of the kitchen, guarded by the commotion around the cake.

Joel had trouble finding people he liked talking to. You spoke with him for three hours as if time meant nothing, and now it got him wanting to talk about you to his friends, spilling all the bits of stolen moments here and there.

The texts he's read so many times he has memorized.

He needs to get those things off his chest if he wants to stop clinging to them— they've been inside his close fists since Joel got his hands on them — on you — and he hasn't let go ever since.

"Dad?"

He places the bottle down on the fridge shelf, happy he was caught before and not during the act. He pops his head out, and Sarah's standing on the door of the kitchen with a look.

"What?"

"I promised myself I was gonna stay out of this tonight, but — is there a reason? Any solid reason why you two decided to stay away from each other since you're both so... clearly happy about that?" she finishes, eyeing the fridge as if her view is made of x-ray, and the bottle weighs twice more in his hands.

Then—"Wait." Joel's brain freezes. "You knew?"

Sarah's eyes widen, and her mouth falls open. "Oh. My god." She blinks once, then covers a burst of laughter with both hands. "Dad. You and she are so not subtle—I thought you knew that I knew — oh my god. It's not because of me, is it? I mean—don't get me wrong, if you two as much as flirt in front of me at first I'm gonna hose both of you like, on the spot, but—I'm ok with it. Obviously. You two are two grown adults, and dad, don't take this the wrong way, but last year was the most I've seen you smile in a long, long time."

Joel needed a few minutes to take all of it in.

Was it just because of Sarah?

No one can know, you'd said. What if you were ashamed of him, too? Of the age difference, and —

"The same goes for her, obviously." Sarah's words pulled him out from underwater. "I've known her for a couple of years, but... last year was definitely happier than the other one."

He smiled. "You're the best, did you know that?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"Tell Tess I left?"

"Sure." Sarah's smile spread. "She just left. D'you want me to text you where she's staying?"

Joel had already gifted her, but that didn't stop him from walking over to kiss her cheek and smile proudly. "I'll buy another gift."

"You better."

Joel drove all the way hoping to be right.

Hoping it hadn't all been just a fluke — the moment, a chase, a thrill.

He breathed a deep inhale before knocking on your hotel door.

It took a second before he heard your footsteps, and he wiped his palms on his jeans. "Uhm — I didn't ask for room service?" you sounded confused.

And like you'd been crying.

Fuck him. "I know you didn't."

It was him.

You wished you hadn't opened. He looks good — like always, but better. Hair slicked back, thick jacket to shield from the cold and the soft eyes; it's what bought you, and what traps you again.

You're speechless, but Joel helps.

"I just have somethin' to say and somethin' to ask, then I can be on my way. If you want," he adds.

"I thought we had a deal." It's almost like a plaster. A veil to cover the pink hue on your cheeks, maybe. "And how did you get up here without them calling me?"

He lifted his hands — your scarf was in them, and he tried very little to hide his amusement when he explained. "I've lived in this town my whole life. I just told Nina downstairs you forgot your scarf at the birthday party and you left pretty early tomorrow mornin'." Joel looks past your shoulders. "You're not the only one with friends. Can I come in?"

You wonder if it's possible to say no to him.

You simply take a step back, and Joel walks past you.

He feels like an omen standing there in your hotel room. The one you'd gotten because staying at his house seemed impossible.

The one you dreamt about him appearing out of nowhere, just like now.

If you had drunk more tonight, you would think maybe you're out of it.

"I'll keep it short, mostly 'cause I feel like a nerve wreck." Joel clears his throat and turns around to look at you as you close the door behind you. "She knows. Sarah — she uhm, she asked me basically why we're makin' each other miserable."

She knows.

You feel splinted from your body for a moment as the weight of the secret leaves your shoulders.

"She knows?" your whisper is more to yourself than anything else, but Joel still answers.

"Yeah. And also — that was Tess, tonight. With me at the birthday party."

He closed it at that because the rest was implied — you heard of Tess, many, many times.

When you and Joel spoke before Summer and the few times you two spent hours on the phone after long periods of silence in between, Joel told you about his friends. He told you about his work colleagues, about old college memories, about anything you asked.

He waited for you.

Patiently, as you took in the fact that your only worry didn't exist, Joel stood there a few feet across from you with his hands in his pockets, waiting.

And then, "I get if that wasn't the only reason why you said we should keep it between us. But—"

"It was." You were just... flying. Free. You breathed out, weighing a thousand pounds less. So you could have him? "Joel?"

He takes a step forward. "Yeah?"

There's little to be said when both of you move like orbits.

Your arms already know the way around his shoulders. Joel's familiar with the inches of your waist, and more than anything, you missed this, missed him.

His clever hands wrap carefully around your waist, and you abandoned every ounce of worry that this might be a dream.

"What are you smilin' at?" he asks.

Joel asks you that as he molds your bodies into one—the man is nothing but broad shoulders and back, thick arms that act like tentacles on your body that melts into his touch from the get-go.

"I had a lot of dreams like this," you confess. It feels incredible to just say what pops into your mind.

"Well, then let me remind you that real life's better," he mutters, hands already cupping your neck and cheeks.

Joel is the type fo kiss with his whole body.

You have no idea how both of you deluded yourselves into thinking any sort of deal could prevail when you two are made of this:

His hands roaming your throat, squeezing as you cling your legs around his waist and Joel takes the full weight of you on him. The back of his knees hitting the bed, his body and yours falling into a mess and tangle of limbs.

No deal was bigger than the desire you had of jumping his bones whenever he was at close proximity.

You wanted to devour him — you sucked on the fingers he offered with the same gusto your hips rolled against his lap; Joel moaned for you, and he trembled for you, and he smiled for you.

"'m gonna take my time with you — you know I like to take my time, stop grindin' that pretty pussy all up on me," he growls, and you mewl.

Joel is relentless with his touches.

Every time he took you, it felt like a possession.

Like he was carving your body out of marble to keep the curves set in stone — his palms ran through every inch of you until all your clothes were gone somewhere in the room, and he laughed at himself every time you cried out his name in a loud plea for more.

"Please — please just gimme something," you begged.

Joel smiles at you, dropping his pants to the floor. The entire lower half of his face is shining with the slick and sweat from you — keeping his head buried between your legs, your thighs stradling his shoulders and squeezing around his ears — he always started the nights like that.

"I was givin' you somethin'," he replies. Voice low and thick as honey. Just as sweet, too.

He crawls over the bed, naked, and you have to stop yourself from jumping on him until he's on his back. It'd be worse for you afterwards — you learned it the hard way. Joel would milk every orgasm out of you until you blacked out if you kept him from touching your body to his liking before you could do anything, and who were you to complain?

"Need more, Joel," you cried.

"More what?" He palms your calves, and starts smoothing his hands upwards. "Ask for it, baby."

"Whatever you want to give me, just — please."

"Ah. She learned," he chuckles, and kisses the inside of your thighs. They tremble at the feeling of his beard, and he nuzzles his face there for good measure. "I usually wanna see you ridin' my face 'till you're screaming for the heavens, but —" Joel climbs all the way up, cages your face between his forearms and lets his body lay on top of yours slowly. He doesn't give you his whole weight, but part of you wished he did. "I really just wanna be inside you right now."

"Please!"

"We'll have all night, I just—"

He stopped there, but you got where he came from.

It was different.

Knowing you would wake up and he'd still be there — it was different.

Taking him in when you knew he had more to offer and that's what he wanted to give — it made every inch Joel pushed inside feel more real.

He held both of your hands over your head, intertwining his fingers in yours. He went slow, and kept his eyes on you, and you felt less silly about the hours you cried before because you thought he wasn't yours. Because you wanted him to be.

He must sense you getting lost in the what ifs because Joel's talk changes somewhere in the middle.

His praises, always the tether grounding you to Earth while he fucks your mind straight out of it, changes in words and tone. He whispers, "I'm here, baby," in your ear, and it makes your legs hug his waist tighter. Push him inside even deeper. "Fuck — like that. Does it feel good? Is this what you wanted?"

You wanted him. "Yes — want you so bad," you wanted all of him. "All of you, Joel."

That granted you a hand of his letting go of yours only to make a fist on your hair.

It was rare for Joel to lose control, but you loved it when it happened. When he let go of everything and you could see him without anything on — no pretenses, no clothes, no reservations.

Joel started to mumble in your ear about anything, his hips losing rhythm inside of you as he made you ride out your orgasm. He talked about how good you are, how much he'd spoil you, make you his, his his —

You were. You were.

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stxrvel · 8 months

Text

hate is a strong word

summary: you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 6k

warnings: some bad words, a lot of arguments, a HUGE flashback, a little bit of angst i think? bucky and reader insult each other, reader doesn't like to listen, bucky is easily angered, bucky likes to destroy things when he gets angry but regrets it easily, this is not exactly a healthy relationship(? descriptions of weapons, missiles and buildings being bombed, reader is also very stubborn and likes to put her life at risk… or so.

note: hi guys!! so i came back and i am kinda proud of this one. i think i haven't felt that way in a long time. i gave myself the time to write when i felt like it and it was wonderful, so this came out. also i put the poll for a whole week and i can't change it now >:(, but i think this onsehot fits the angst with a happy ending (im not sure if this fits the angst tho, you gotta tell me) but im gonna try to do something else that fits the vibe, and i'll probably do some other poll to write about someone else. (also i think i should warn you guys that i dont think im that good writing action scenes or tension scenes, so if that's bad i hope you forgive me): anyway, hope you guys like this one!! i love reading your comments so if you want and can, please leave some <33 love you all and see you next time!

part 2

Bucky was really pissing you off too much at that moment. Or maybe you were feeling a little uncomfortable.

He hadn't spoken a single word to you since you had arrived at that tiny house, only shrugged silently and then exploded. You had seen Bucky explode several times before and you admitted that watching him was somewhat entertaining; seeing the faces of frightened people, trying to flee away from his angry face and destructive hands, but physically forced to stand by and listen to his scolding. You used to have fun with that. However, at the time, when you were the extreme recipient of that anger, it wasn't so much fun.

You had already heard a couple of broken glass, shattered wood and metal containers fall to the ground. Maybe five minutes or so had passed and he was barely pausing to look at his artwork. It wasn't too much that he had taken and thrown while you had stayed in the room, but it had all sounded very loud, so you had no choice but to go out and see what he was doing.

You were leaning against the threshold of the hallway to the bedrooms, right across from the living room and kitchen. Bucky looked like he had just finished getting all his anger out when he finally stood silently. He probably thought you were asleep while he was doing all that, as if that sound couldn't wake you up. Was he really that angry about what you had done? You mean, yes, it was very risky, but there you were alive, weren't you?

You felt the best thing you could do was to stay quiet and wait for him to say or do something, because you could risk that angry outburst really coming down in your face. For that moment he had only taken it out on the house, which had nothing to do with your problems, and you didn't want the arguments to start filling the silence that followed his stillness.

But, well, you didn't always do the right thing. That's why you were in that situation in the first place.

“Are you done yet?” you signed your sentence.

Bucky had a tense posture, squared shoulders moving in rhythm with his accelerated breathing. His back was to you, staring at the kitchen counter that had been left completely empty. You knew by the way he was clasping his hands that he was trying to maintain his composure.

“Are you serious?” his voice came out hoarse, a sign of his growing anger.

Maybe you should have stopped there, or when he continued to not turn to look at you, but you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.

“What's your problem, Barnes? Yes, I took a chance, but it's not that big of a deal. It's not for this,” you pointed to the mess around you, even though he wasn't looking at you.

“It's not a big deal, you say?” Bucky moved and you felt yourself watching his angry figure move in slow motion. “What's your problem?”

His beady eyes met yours. You felt a little intimidated by the ripples of annoyance coming off his body, filling the entire room with an unbearable, suffocating tension. His scowl and that strangely calm tone of voice made your hair stand on end.

None of the pieces of glass or splintered wood on the floor looked as dangerous as that expression on Bucky's face. He looked very angry, yes, but there was also something in his eyes when he looked at you. Something like concern… but that was impossible.

“Really, Y/N, what's your problem? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Now, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I was the mission leader!” his voice rose, his body moving forward as he pointed his index finger at himself. “And you were supposed to follow my orders.”

“I did, Barnes, I-”

“No,” he exclaimed, again moving closer. “You didn't do anything I asked you to do! Why can't you just…? Argh.”

You moved back a little as he planted his hands on the dining room table. You felt a little pressure in your chest at the sight of him like this, as if defeated and hopeless. Disappointed. But that was a common thing. That's why you used to have individual missions, and that's why you didn't really like working in a team. You mean, it wasn't wrong to do it, but everything always ended up in arguments because nobody liked the way you worked, so it was better to do it alone, right?

Seeing Bucky like that reminded you of how many times you had seen that look on the faces of Steve, Natasha, Tony, Clint, even Thor… It was never welcome nor were you comfortable with what was coming next, but it was the way you worked, how could you change out of nowhere something you had done your whole life?

Maybe you just had to apologize, sometimes that worked. Because you also knew that, knowing how bossy and caring Bucky was, you should have at least held back a little during the mission. Bucky's patience couldn't stand that sort of thing.

“Listen, I'm sorry, okay? I was a little careless, but that's how-”

“A little careless?” he interrupted you, his voice and face incredulous. "You almost got yourself killed."

“We're in this job under that risk, Barnes, that's not news.”

The man in the middle of the mess ran his hands over his face, elated, frustrated and surely overwhelmed. He let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl before turning back to look at you.

“Why can't you just listen?”

His accusing gaze enlarged a hole in your chest that you constantly tried to ignore, planting bitter feelings of sadness that you were usually very good at avoiding. But at that moment, for some reason, you couldn't stop your face from twitching at the strong, hurt tone of the man who looked at you as if he couldn't believe who you are and what you do. It seemed like Bucky was always in denial and today he realized that what everyone always told him was true.

That look, that dull gleam in his eye, that expression of understanding… All of that you were used to seeing, but coming from him it felt different. As if you hadn't really meant to cause those feelings, as if you wanted to turn back time to do things differently. The surprisingly incredulous and remorseful look was digging deep into your head, searing itself with hot iron to make sure to haunt you in the future.

At that moment you didn't care if Bucky realized how much his words affected you. Maybe you deserved to feel that way. Maybe he should have known that it affected you too much, that would surely do more than an apology.

“If only you had listened to me, we would have left sooner and without any trouble,” Bucky spoke again after what felt like hours of silence.

You couldn't take him back. It was true.

“Why did you…? Argh. Whatever. I'm going to report to Fury.”

His figure passed you like a blur. You barely felt his presence very superficially before all was silent again.

Your heart ached again. For some reason, it wouldn't stop hurting that it was still beating.

The day before.

“WHAT?” you exclaimed in disbelief and the director's tired look reappeared.

“It's already scheduled, Y/N, I can't undo it. So just go, try to cooperate together and come back in one piece,” Fury leaned back against the back of the chair, putting his feet up on the desk.

You looked at his shoes as if they were to blame for everything.

“It's funnier to think Bucky reacted the same way,” Tony spoke up, sitting in the chair next to yours, a mocking expression on his face.

“Shut up,” you smacked his arm before turning back to the director. “Sir, you know Barnes and I don't get along and knowing that, what makes you think we'll hit it off on a mission?”

Fury shrugged. “A hunch.”

“A hunch…?” you repeated in a low tone, twice as incredulous that the big SHIELD director had just said that.

“That's it, agent, you're dismissed.”

You left his office on your own, not because you had been dispatched. The walk to the housing complex took you longer than ever at that point.

You'd only had one mission with Bucky Barnes once a couple of years ago and it had been a disaster. Your group missions usually ended with a close call, but that time with Bucky it was like going to hell and back.

You two had never gotten along. Regardless of Fury's hundreds of attempts to get along, you had never managed to vibrate on the same frequency. It seemed more like you repelled each other every time you were together, and it was totally justified because Bucky was too bossy and wouldn't let you breathe for a single second. Every second of the mission had to be ruled by him because otherwise he was going to explode into a sea of rage and, God, no one wanted to piss Bucky off in that Complex. However, you were always the first to tell him that his tactics weren't working or that he was too slow and well, naturally, you ended up arguing.

You met Natasha and Steve halfway to the rooms and from the way they both looked at each other before the redhead approached you knew you must surely have a scrunched up face.

“Did something happen?” Natasha asked as soon as she reached your side and started walking at the same pace as you, slightly more hurried than usual.

“Fury assigned me a mission with Barnes,” you spat out the good news, impossibly frowning harder at the mention of that name.

“Oh,” Natasha nodded. “Well, you could try to work things out-”

“What things, Natasha?” you paused, turning to look at her as everything around you turned red. “There's nothing to fix here, because Barnes is a stubborn, obstinate, childish, bossy, stupid man who is incapable of speaking like a civilized adult and only knows how to shout orders everywhere as if he's the bossy one in the Complex. I can't stand him!”

“Wow.”

You heard his voice.

“I hope you know the feeling is reciprocated.”

You turned to see him, his body was leaning against the island at the entrance to the kitchen, in a strategic spot as if you could never realize he was there because your path was to the other side. Natasha watched between the two of you like a tennis match, fearful as if at any moment the screaming would start and she would have to run away.

You didn't know what to do. You were super angry, yes, and you felt your blood boiling inside your veins, too. And you'd said all that stuff to Bucky's face before, and God knows how many times before you'd argued just by seeing each other in the halls of the Complex. Despite that, you felt trapped. The anger was still there, yes, but his gaze pierced through you like a sword.

“Believe me, I don't want to go on this mission with a stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, ignorant, individualist like you either, who cares not for the safety of the team but for her own victory, no matter how she achieves it.”

With his eyes sharp, his heavy footsteps approached you, echoing in your head loudly like the second hand of a clock. He had stopped at a safe distance as he spoke and at one point Natasha had grabbed your arm when it seemed you had tried to approach him as well.

“You're a hypocrite,” you spat at him.

“Ha! Me?”

“You always play the saintly dove, but you know you're not much different from me.”

“I'm nothing like you,” Bucky wrinkled his face, as if the very thought caused him to shiver with disgust.

“You're an individualist, too, imposing your plans on others.”

“You never have a plan! What do you expect me to do, let you go and die?”

“I do have plans! But you don't like them because they are more effective than yours.”

“They're more effective at the cost of risking more of our lives.”

“That's what our job is all about!”

“Our job is about protecting! How are you going to accomplish a mission if you're dead?”

“Well, I've done pretty well so far, in case you haven't noticed.”

“If I had a nickel for every time you've gone airhead straight into danger and ended up nowhere near dead, I'd have as much money as Stark.”

“And if I had a nickel for every time your stupid, slow plans have caused you to lose sight of the target and made you come back empty-handed, I'd be twice as rich as Stark.”

“At least my kill rate is minus five.”

“And my hit rate is one hundred by the way.”

“Are you even listening to what you're saying?”

“That I always finish missions on the first try, unlike you?”

“That you're treating your life like it's something insignificant.”

“Ah, now you care about my life?”

Natasha tightened her hand around your forearm again preventing you from again getting too close to the man who was getting on your nerves. Before he could respond, you spoke again:

“Look, Barnes, to make it absolutely clear to you for the rest of your long life: I love my life and I love my job. I love my life because it allows me to have this job and I love my job because it allows me to have this life. If you have a problem with how I choose to do the job, that's just that, your problem. But don't think you're coming here to give me a psychology lesson to make me believe that I don't value my life just because now you've run out of arguments. It's because I value my life, Barnes, that I always come out of every mission unscathed. I don't put myself at risk because I'm oblivious. I always have everything figured out and that's why everything always works out for me.”

Bucky snorted, his body moving away from yours, but despite that expression on his face he didn't respond again. He gave you a sidelong glance before walking back into the kitchen.

Your shoulders felt a little lighter. For a moment you thought he was going to continue arguing.

Natasha next to you sighed, finally letting go of your forearm.

“Why did you hold me so tight?” you frowned at her, rubbing the part of your skin that was slightly red. “Did you really think I was going to fight a super soldier?”

Natasha shrugged under your gaze.

“We've known you to do crazy things.”

“I wouldn't have stood a chance of beating him even if he gave me the upper hand.”

Five hours earlier.

You hadn't seen Bucky for the rest of the day after that discussion, until the next day when you had to get on the Quinjet and didn't even glance at each other.

Steve was in charge of handling the airplane and, apparently, he was also in charge of briefing you on how you were going to proceed on the mission, because Bucky was too busy drilling holes with his gaze somewhere else on the Quinjet away from the two of you.

Neither spoke when you descended nor when you approached the base apparently in a state of abandonment.

Bucky's mission were flat and simple, but as usual he had no backup plan, because all his backup plans were the same: run away. Bucky had a chick's sense of survival, that's why when things went bad was the time when he would scream at you the loudest.

Just like it happened on that mission.

“This place is deadly quiet,” you spoke for the first time, barely earning a sidelong glance from the man next to you.

You had already finished thermo-sensor checking every floor of the building and it was indeed desolate. Still, you felt a strange uncomfortable chill run down your back.

“Well, that's what deserted means,” Bucky commented, his sarcasm sharp.

You rolled your eyes at him, even if he couldn't see you, and kept walking with your gun raised as you approached the checkpoint.

“I mean I can't even hear birds or crickets, doesn't that strike you as odd?”

“Well, we're on the fourth floor, wouldn't it make it stranger if you could hear them at this altitude?”

“Well, you can hear at this height. Tell me, do you hear anything down below?”

Bucky paused. They were a few steps away from reaching the room. His deadly stare caused you nothing but boredom and you would have ignored him completely except that he let out a sigh, dejected. You detailed him minutely as he seemed to focus his hearing on external sounds.

“There's nothing,” he spoke after a few seconds, his brow slightly furrowed.

“You see?”

“But that doesn't mean anything. We'd better finish this quickly.”

Ignoring the grimace on your face, Bucky moved to step into the room whose door was wide open. You stared offended at his back and felt the urge to smack his big head with the butt of your gun.

“Here it is,” you heard him exclaim from inside.

Sighing you made your way to where he stood. A large display of old computers anchored to the wall.

“You should do it yourself,” you looked at Bucky with a smirk. “I don't handle equipment this old.”

Bucky only snorted in response and moved with his gun to another side of the room, leaving you in complete silence to do your job.

You moved quietly and sat down in front of the machines. You plugged them into the power source you brought in your suitcase and in a few minutes they began to work.

The mission was simple. There was one of the old HYDRA bases that contained specific information that Fury needed to find. Up to that point, they had searched about seven abandoned bases without any success. So there you were with Bucky, at the eighth base they had identified, digging through old commands and in another language trying to find the information they needed.

Ever since they left the Complex that morning you were convinced you would find nothing. They had already raided several bases and there were still a few more to go. The probability that you would find that information at that time was…

Bingo.

“Got it,” you exclaimed to Bucky.

You heard his hurried footsteps and then felt the warmth of his body next to you.

“Is that it?”

“Just a folder.”

“And why does it load so slowly?”

“It's an old computer, Bucky, it works at its own pace.”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance. “Wish you understood me like you understand that thing.”

“Aish,” you pouted by way of mockery. “Jealous, Barnes?”

The aforementioned just snorted.

The load was running at forty percent and truth be told, yes, it was too slow. But you could do nothing but wait, there was no way to speed it up.

Bucky paced back and forth behind you and you just watched the green lines move as if that helped at all. But, well, what else could you do?

At one point, as the charge was about to reach eighty percent, you heard interference on your communicators.

“Argh,” you shook your head and raised your hand to move the device a little away until the sound died down. “Steve?”

There was no response.

You turned to look at Bucky, who had the same quizzical expression.

The interference returned and then you heard Steve's voice distorted.

“… of… moment!”

“What the fuck is he saying?”

Bucky remained silent, tapping the device on his ear as if that would fix it.

But you saw it before you heard Steve's voice again.

A clump of people through the window. A freshly loaded cannon.

“Barnes…”

And at that moment, Steve's voice filled them with clarity.

“It's an ambush! Get out of there now!”

The quickness of the impact didn't let you process what was happening. Less than a second after hearing Steve the ground shook beneath your feet. The cracks in the floor started small and then swallowed you apart.

You held onto a beam, barely lucid enough. You propelled yourself upward, swinging your forearms over the patch of ground that was still intact. You heard Bucky's grunts in the distance. He was surely all right.

You heard him call out to you too, but as soon as you could sit down on the ground, the first thing you did was to reach for the pendrive.

Your heart was pounding, so hard it might as well have flown out on its own. Your breathing accelerated, with adrenaline rushing through your body was the only thing you could feel. At that moment you felt capable of anything.

You stood up quickly to look out the window again. The people were gone and the cannon had been destroyed.

It was at that moment that you realized that Steve was still talking on the communicator.

“I'm fine,” you replied, after being able to decipher his words amidst the constant buzzing from the sound of the explosion and the dizziness you felt at the sight of the hole next to you.

“Okay, you're both fine,” the Captain spoke again.

“Y/N, you can get down from there and get to the floor below. I'll catch you.”

At the sound of Bucky's voice, you moved away from the window.

Bucky had landed on the floor below, and yes, from where you were you could jump up and you'd probably have nothing but a cramp.

“How's it going up there?”

“Well, the shields are holding up okay, but I've got poor vision. I think they're regrouping somewhere else.”

You looked around.

Most of the floor had swallowed up the computers, but the main one was still loading the document. You could see the green from where you were. It was at ninety-seven percent.

But it was dangerous to get too close. The pendrive was dangling from the main computer which was about to succumb to the cracked floor.

There was some concrete left in front of the computers that you could walk across, so, without a second thought, you mapped out a mental guidance plan and moved forward.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I'm getting the pendrive.”

“What? Are you insane? That side of the floor isn't going to support your weight!”

“Yes it will. I know how to do it.”

You started walking all over the remaining edge of the floor in front of what was left of the computers. Small pieces would break off as you passed causing Bucky to hiss.

“Y/N, you'd better stop and get down right now. There's still a risk of them firing again.”

“I'm gonna get it, Barnes.”

“Y/N! Get down, now!”

Ignoring his command, you held onto the remaining wall in front of you as you continued on your way, almost reaching where the pendrive was, about to fall into the abyss.

Ninety-eight percent.

“Y/N!”

“Fucking hell, Barnes, will you shut the fuck up? Your yelling is breaking my concentration.”

“You want me to just stay quiet while you walk to your certain death?”

“I'm not going to dieee- ahh-”

Your left foot, the one in front, wobbled as a piece of the floor came loose. You clung tightly to the wall as best you could, breathing deeply to calm your racing heart. Panicking at that moment wasn't going to do any good.

“God, I can't believe this,” you heard Bucky's voice, muttering to himself. “Now are you really going to get off?”

His voice sounded reprimanding, but agitated. In the midst of that mess, you wondered for a moment if he was really worried.

“I'm almost there.”

You heard him grunt in the distance.

You kept moving your feet in the direction of the main computer, this time more cautiously and more slowly. The floor all along that edge was too cracked, on the verge of falling. You were surprised it had lasted this long.

At that point, Bucky started talking to Steve, but you kept your full concentration on not falling. Maybe Bucky was right and you really didn't have any regard for your life, but…. No, no. You were very sure of what you were doing. You couldn't give up without trying everything. Maybe for Bucky it was too risky, but that was your life. And you knew you could do it.

Ninety-nine.

You had reached the critical point on the ground.

The voices of the two men were becoming too overwhelming, so you quickly took off your communicator and stuffed it in one of your tactical pants pockets.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Bucky exclaimed, a considerable distance away. He wasn't as far away as you thought.

“Your voices are distracting me!”

Good. You were close. Maybe from there you could reach it… if you stretched a little… a little more… a little- Whoop. Nope. You weren't that close. Another chunk of floor fell and with it everything around you shifted. The concrete was so unstable that it tilted further into the abyss after your not at all incredible maneuver.

You had to get even closer.

You had to use plan c.

But for that, the pendrive had to be one hundred percent charged and you weren't sure you could wait for that. Or well, you weren't sure the floor would hold. You had to be quick.

You heard Bucky behind you, but his words were carried away by the wind. You couldn't focus on him because that would be too distracting.

So, arriving at point x, you executed your plan as quickly as possible.

You ran. Even if the world was falling down, you ran. In the direction of the pendrive. The green number didn't change. You took a deep breath. You felt the sparks fly around you. The sound of the ground cracking was going to haunt you in several dreams.

You picked up the pendrive. You would have a few extra seconds as you leaned over and climbed over the computers to gain momentum.

The bing of the computer filled you with a rush of adrenaline.

One hundred percent.

You jumped. You held your breath for a second. Nerves built up in your throat. You felt like you were going to lose consciousness for a minute. Maybe you heard Bucky in the background, you weren't sure, but knowing him he was probably still scolding you.

In the midst of a deep exhalation…

Your feet hit the ground. You rolled. You moved quickly as you turned to see that the ground was still falling. You got up and ran.

You ran until you collided with a solid body. Bucky was shaking your shoulders.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he exclaimed, his face angry.

You could hear Steve's voice through his communicator because of how close he was.

“Shit.”

He grabbed your arm and you ran again.

Somehow, Bucky managed to get you out of the building as they bombed it again. You had a gunfight the moment you touched the cold snow.

You moved alongside Bucky like a symphony, aiming and firing with your gun until you managed to get away.

When you noticed that you kept going and kept running…

“Where's Steve?”

“If you had your fucking communicator on…”

Bucky grabbed your hand again to keep running.

You quickly reached a shack that looked abandoned and the man next to you wasted no time in letting go of you and running in the direction of what appeared to be a garage. There was a motorcycle.

You reached into your pocket only to realize that the communicator had been destroyed.

And Bucky looked too angry to want to talk.

“Get on.”

He drove all the way into town, but he didn't stop there.

You were on the road for at least about two hours. You had no idea where you were.

Somewhere along that trip, Bucky stopped in front of another abandoned shack and from there he pulled out a car. He set the bike on fire.

You went back on the road, for at least another hour.

Until you reached a small town and Bucky finally stopped in front of a house that didn't look so neglected.

“They destroyed the Quinjet's shields at missile point. Steve had to leave. We'll stay here until I can get through to Fury and we know what to do.”

His voice gave no room for retorts.

Present.

Well, yes, you were a bit reckless during missions, but so what? You got what you needed thanks to your incredible action plans and always came out unscathed. If you didn't do that during missions, how far behind would they be now in their knowledge against the enemy? They would probably be sitting ducks. Bucky didn't see that.

You two didn't talk for much of the afternoon and evening. You had spent it in the living room, trying to avoid the mess he had made to get something to eat and rest. You had perhaps slept for about three hours when you woke up and saw him sitting in one of the dining room chairs. The room looked cleaner than before.

Bucky sighed when he realized you had woken up.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Earlier when we arrived. And for all the mess,” he averted his gaze when you leaned on your forearm to get a better look at him.

“Don't you think it was the least you could do?” quizzical, you sat back on the couch.

“Weren't you the one who said I don't know how to talk like a civilized adult?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sometimes.”

“Well, now I want to. That's why I deeply apologize for reacting that way.”

You remained silent, not really knowing how to answer him. On the previous mission you'd had with Bucky, when the whole mess was over and you were quietly in the Quinjet taking it all in, Bucky had only said “you're fucking crazy” to you before exiting the aircraft. There was no scolding, at least not from him, no complaining, no yelling. Just that. And with that you stayed for a week because you never even saw him again.

Despite the number of times you had heard that, you couldn't see it that way. That was your job, that was what you did and you didn't dislike it. You had done it forever, it was basically your way of life and you had always done it excellently. You trained and practiced for situations like that, that's why you were part of SHIELD's risk management team for so long. You used to risk your life like that to save other people and it didn't bother you. Now you were still doing it, also to save people. There was no dark reason behind it. You were contributing to a common good and that was enough.

“I guess I haven't made things bearable for you either,” you admitted with a hint of remorse.

“No, never,” Bucky shook his head in agreement.

“I'm sorry I scared you,” the words slipped from your mouth. You wanted to say something else, but, well, that had to work.

Bucky let out a short laugh. His head jerked in sync, his shoulders loose as if he didn't have a care in the world. For a moment you felt like you were somewhere else; maybe in a living room, some alcoholic beverage in one of your hands as one of your favorite songs played softly in the background, and Bucky. Bucky sitting in front of you, just like that moment.

Wow. What the fuck was that?

“You apologize for my reaction, but not for what you did?” his sly grin was getting on your nerves. You preferred it when he wasn't trying to upset you at the point of smirks. You never thought that was a weapon he could use against you.

Feelings.

Ew.

No, I hate Bucky Barnes. This is unacceptable. Mind, get your shit together.

“Well, I tried to do that earlier and you didn't care. I don't know what you want from me, Barnes,” you turned your head away, nonchalantly playing with your hair to avoid seeing those light eyes again.

“You'd better leave it at that. I couldn't take that knack away from you if I tried for years,” the sigh that accompanied his words reminded you of something you'd thought of when you were in the building. His face still looked calm, but a little upset by the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Why do you care so much about that?” you asked him directly now that you had the chance.

You looked at him as he turned his head away, his eyes roaming over your face, confused.

“Are you asking me why I care about your life?”

Puzzled, you shrugged. His look almost made you think that was a weird thing to ask, but was it really? “Yes. Well…. You hate me.”

“What? I don't hate you,” Bucky shook his head, his face more contracted than before as if you'd said he had cat ears on his head. He looked almost offended.

And that was the really strange thing.

You mean, almost as long as you'd known Bucky your relationship had been based on fights and demeaning adjectives to each other. That he would say that made even less sense than you asking him why he cared so much about you. He had to be pulling your leg.

“What? But I hate you because you hate me,” you explained vaguely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That was one way of putting it; that is to say, Bucky never gave any indication that he didn't hate you. Or well…

“I don't hate you,” Bucky shrugged, his nonchalant expression confusing you that much more. “You're just a little… insufferable sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's just a synonym for hating.”

“I don't hate you,” he repeated, this time turning to look you in the eye. For a moment you felt like your breath caught in your throat and you were going to choke. “I know we argue and say a lot of things to each other, but… hating is too strong a feeling.”

“Are you really serious?” you shook your head to get the extraneous thoughts out; that wasn't the time to make a discovery, to realize you had lived a lie.

“Yes. And just to make you more sure, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you outside the Complex,” Bucky blurted out, matter-of-factly.

Your head went blank.

“WHAT?”

Several seconds stunned.

Bucky barely cracked a smile at your dumbfounded expression. It sure looked like you'd actually seen cat ears grow on his head. The things he was now saying… they didn't make sense. “You dislike the idea that much?”

“Do you want to not say things so drastically different every moment? You're changing my perception of reality.”

Bucky kept his small smile and you had to swallow hard to ignore the warmth that settled in your chest. It wasn't welcome, not at that moment. The sound of that music in the living room in your head was getting louder, as if your own mind wanted to mock your surprise.

“Well, back to your question,” Bucky moved his hands nonchalantly over his lap and your eyes followed his movement unashamedly, “I don't see why I shouldn't care about your life. We are partners, after all.”

Partners? After all you had been through? Were you partners? Did Bucky believe that?

“Are we?” you didn't try to hide the incredulous tone that accompanied your words, because it already sounded like you'd just stepped through the door into a parallel dimension.

“Sure,” Bucky nodded to emphasize your words and the calm expression on his face became more familiar with each passing second. Could it be that that had always been the reality and you had been deprived of it? “We've known each other for five years.”

“I always thought you hated me…” you mumbled to yourself, looking lost because your head recalling every fight of the last few years, since you met him, every tongue out and every exalted word, but his incredible hearing clearly picked up what you said as if you had murmured it in his ear.

“Surely it was a mistake in communication.”

“Mistake?” you frowned at his reassurance. “You always called me stubborn and childish every chance you got.”

“I thought we were annoying each other. Although, of course,” his face became a little more serious, “there were times when I knew you hated me intensely. You said really hurtful things, what was I supossed to do? That's why I never bothered to talk to you like this. You did hate me.”

“Because I thought you…! Argh.”

Bucky smiled again.

“You're the insufferable one, Barnes.”

You hated the way your head snapped back to that image in the living room, so peaceful and calm, so serene and warm, the moment his barely noticeable smile hit you again. You had barely managed to get those words out of your mouth before you felt yourself running out of breath again.

Were you asthmatic?

And why was your head suddenly filled with platonic thoughts you'd never had before in your life?

What the fuck was happening to you?

“This is the longest civilized conversation we've ever had,” Bucky spoke again, his gaze wandering somewhere in the room.

Yes, that was true. Whenever you talked for this long it was always to argue and say hurtful things to each other. But you were too surprised by everything he had said, because just yesterday he told you that he didn't want to come on this mission with you either and in his eyes you were sure you saw something like what you felt. Something of hatred, when you saw your eyes through his.

Did you just… imagine it all?

Did you think he hated you because you hated him too?

Or maybe you wanted to convince yourself that he hated you. Maybe it was easier to deal with that than with the idea that you…

Oh no.

No, no, no. There's no fucking way that's it.

But then Bucky stood up and with his smug, know-it-all, hateful look, with that sly, evil grin, like he'd always known everything, like he was squirming around enjoying your confused stare, he held out his hand to you and said:

“Shall we fix something to eat?”

Oh, no, you were screwed.

a/n: thank u so much for reading!! <3

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