#because this is the second time he cheated on mom and the first one was seven | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pearlywritings · 9 months

Text

In father's embrace

synopsis: Genshin men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Ayato, Thoma, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Tighnari x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy

word count: 7.2k words

a/n: I really wanted to write Diluc and Kaeya, but realized that I can't create something new since I already have a family AU with them. Here's the materlist's link if you are interested! Also you can find the HSR version of this here!

Ayato

This man is a dad of twins - a boy and a girl. Both babies took more in their mom’s appearance, but have his soft violet eyes and honestly? This man adores you, his wife, so when he sees your kids develop more and more of your features as they grow - his heart can’t be fuller.

He is a fun and patient dad - he will teach them anything they ask him to, and offer guidance, yet still leaving space for them to learn some on their own. He also enjoys when they sneak into his study during his working hours (because mom decided to take a nap, and Thoma went out grocery shopping, and they are so-so boooooored), letting them wander around the room for the nth time, touching all the trophies and scrolls he has there (all the things that could be of danger were long removed), and when they eventually feel sleepy, crawl closer to him to nap, resting their heads on his thighs while he stays in his kneeling position, writing.

Even if they look a lot like you, it’s so easy to tell that they are his kids - the mischief babbling in their little bodies is untamable for the longest time, and Ayato loves it. Sure, sometimes it is a headache, and mostly for you, but at least they didn’t develop strange tastes in food like their father. More than once they used their similar looks to play pranks on the staff members or their parents, dressing in each other’s clothes and going about their day like that. What does their father think of it? Two words - “promising” and “entertaining”.

They are also their aunt’s absolute delight. Ayaka adores them, showering the two with gifts and attention. And even though she and Ayato are not twins like her niece and nephew - she still feels warmly nostalgic whenever she witnesses their interactions.

Best aunt - thanks to her Vision the twins experienced the joy of ice skating, lessons of etiquette became more fun (though still effective), more days off were granted to her brother to spend time with his family (she practically started stealing his paperwork at some point to fulfill it on her own). She and Thoma are making your life so much easier and for the first time Ayato truly feels at peace and like he is living his life at its fullest. The quiet rooms of the Kamisato Estate are finally filled with joyous laughter and summer warm happiness - his kids are bringing back the light to the gloomily strict atmosphere of the family house.

But sometimes the two only add the workload to his plate in the most wild ways possible.

Ayato closely observes one of his kids - presumably the son - as both the parent and the child are sitting in the room dedicated to the twins’ studying. They have the best tutors Inazuma could provide and both showed exceptional results in all their classes. Even if one of them failed an examination on the first try - the second one was always a success. That was until you walked in on your daughter rewriting her history test, only to discover your son in her place, with his sister’s clothes and blue locks tied in her manner. And that’s when the truth came to light.

Honestly it was no surprise their teachers never suspected anything - only four people could tell the twins apart easily - you, Ayato, Ayaka and Thoma, though the latter had trouble with that occasionally, and your children made sure to speak as similar as possible once the idea of replacing each other appeared. Of which you also learned that day Ayato and you sat them down and urged to tell you everything. The scolding about cheating from you and a lecture from Ayato on the topic of how important it is to do as good as you can on your own were provided, but in the end you just hugged them and said that you do not expect them to be perfect in everything, which left the kids relieved.

But from then on Ayato has been in charge of supervising the twins during their exam retakes. Just like today.

“Public diplomacy, national security, diplomatic etiquette, hm…” the head of the Kamisato clan skips across the paper with questions the tutor gave him beforehand on the latest topic of international relationships. He notices how his child doesn’t fidget and doesn’t even let the eyes run across the room - the straight posture and neutral expression etched on a thirteen-year old’s face is admirable. But he does note the uncharacteristic stiffness. Along with another major thing.

“Princess, where is your brother?”

Eyes widen slightly, but that’s enough to prove that he is correct. He watches his daughter hesitate for a moment, though there is no doubt in his mind that neither of his children would ever lie to him or their mother. And the defeated sigh shows as much.

“Sorry, father,” the girl lowers her gaze in apology. Fishing a hairpin from behind her brother’s kimono lapel, she makes quick work of collecting her hair. Then she looks into his eyes again.

“He is in my room, pretending to be me and probably stressing. Before you ask why we decided to switch - he begged me to.” “Oh?” Ayato puts the papers to the side and rests his chin on an open palm. “Could you please elaborate?” “Remember how we went to the Kujo residence for a playdate?” Her father hums, already getting a vague understanding of what’s going on. “And when we accidentally overheard how the oldest son was being scolded by his father for not doing enough in his studies. And brother got it into his head that if he keeps failing not once but more times, you are going to be disappointed in him. I know he studied for this retake, I helped him with that, but at the last moment he got anxious, and, well, here I am. Like all those years ago.”

“I see,” the man in front of her nods, and she doesn’t see any negative emotion painted on his face. Quite the contrary, he smiles.

“Be a dear, go get your brother and come back together. Change the clothes though. Oh, and tell him I am not mad, okay?” “Okay, father,” she mirrors his smile and relief flashes in her eyes - the girl truly cares for her twin, and that warms Ayato’s heart.

When half an hour later both arrive there is already a table served with tea and sweets, and the head of the Kamisato family immediately invites them to take their seats. His daughter looks calm, which can’t be said about his son - the boy has the most miserable look on his face, holding onto his sister’s hand and staring at the surface of the tea in his cup. Ayato decides to speak first.

“Kujo family is the last people one should take as an example,” his firm, yet reassuring tone makes his son glance at him. “Sure, they are respected, but their methods are too old-fashioned, and the way they treat their children is no good. Do you understand, little blossoms?”

They nod and even if Ayato doesn’t see it, he knows they squeeze each other’s hand.

“You better do, because neither me nor your mother will ever push you to the point of devastation. In studies as well,” the boy bites his lip. “I am serious. I will not be disappointed in either of you if you have to retake one test again and again. Striking for perfection is a good goal, but not when you torture yourself physically and emotionally to achieve it.”

“But father…” his son lifts his eyes and stares right into Ayato’s and it shoots right through his chest how vulnerable the kid looks. “You are perfect. And I don’t want to let you down…” “Me? Perfect? Oh, dear,” the man can’t hold a light laugh back. “Ask your mother and she’ll prove you so wrong, trust me. And none of you is letting me down - you should be proud of yourselves. At such young age you both show bright talents and knowledge - and it’s okay if it’s not the case for every possible field of studies. This is general education, later you’ll get more practice to catch up, or concentrate on your strongest abilities. Listen,” he addresses his son specifically, and the boy cocks his head to the side a little, “be more confident and trust your sister if she insists you are doing well. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and come to me if you feel unsure, alright?”

The boy glances down, letting the words sink in, and Ayato patiently waits. In his mind he admits that it's his oversight - he should've noticed earlier that one of his kids has been struggling. Now he will make sure to change that.

Eventually his son deeply sighs and looks at the adult in front of him with trust reflecting in those pretty eyes.

“Alright,” he nods with a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Slowly standing up and letting go of his twin’s hand, he rounds the table and steps right into Ayato’s outstretched arms, wrapping his own around the man’s neck.

“Thank you, father,” he whispers right before burying his face into haori-clad shoulder. “I love you so much.”

And the man smiles, whispering those words back and soothingly patting his back, as the daughter shows him thumbs up with the tenderest look in her eyes.

Thoma

This man is such a sweet dad - nearly cried, when your first child, a girl, was delivered. Same was when a couple years later the son was born too.

Juggling his work and caring for his kids was never an issue for him. A big part of it was played by the Kamisato couple, who allowed him to bring first his daughter and then his son to work, when each of them was old enough. Which, most likely, was what prompted the Kamisatos to have their own kids - one day years ago you and Thoma wanted to have a date night - one you haven't had in a while - and Ayato's wife offered to watch your little baby girl. Does it need to be mentioned she wanted her own kids after that?

Thoma's kids are taught to be polite and respectful, but not overly reserved and quiet, no - in your own house the man would literally let them destroy the kitchen in attempts to bake something as an experiment and then turn cleaning it up into a fun game of three, or four, if you decide to join.

He is that kind of dad, who constantly falls asleep with both kids nestled on his chest and his arms wrapped around them, with a book of tales either lying on his stomach or abandoned on the floor. You literally mastered your technique of waking him up without stirring the kids, so you could bring the two to their rooms.

Your kids love walks, whether it’s in the city or admiring the scenery near the Kamisato Estate. When it’s in the city though, the four of you attract attention without a fail. Especially elders, who coo at the image of Thoma holding his daughter’s hand and you cradling your little boy to your chest. You are literally showered in little gifts and are offered many discounts, because everyone adores and respects your family. At some point for a short period of time a rumor was running around Inazuma City, that if you get to see all four members of the Kamisato retainer’s family, luck is going to follow you through the day. Thoma had to ensure it came to an end, wanting to keep you three safe and not being followed around in your leisure time.

To summarize it’s needless to say that this man is a natural when it comes to being a father. He already aced being a great husband, you never had any doubt that the same would be true about becoming a dad. And it brings you so much joy that your kids are aware of it.

Making your husband's lunch is an essential part of your morning routine. Sure, the Kamisato Estate provides its workers with meals and breaks, but knowing how much Thoma loves your home-cooked meals, you'll never refuse him this pleasure.

On days like today you pack two more lunches, for your kids - yesterday they expressed their desire to go and help their dad. But you are more than aware of the plan they've had in their mind for the longest time. That's why you turn a blind eye and chop fruits particularly loudly, when you ten- and four-year olds sneak into the kitchen and hide something in the wrapper of an already packed lunch.

And when they were leaving and every member of your family gave you kisses, you couldn’t help but notice the decreased stack of small papers you have in the hall to make notes.

Maybe next time, you’ll ask your kids to join.

Thoma bringing his kids to work is always a pleasant surprise to the Estate’s staff. Even the guards by the gates can’t keep their composure, when the girl cheerfully greets them, wishing a good day, and the boy softly chirps a little “hi” and shyly waves his hand at them. Next person they always meet is Furuta - and the old lady adores their greeting ritual and is the one who looks after the fellow housekeeper’s kids when they help or play outside. But if usually the woman just makes small compliments to the children and chides Thoma for not bringing them over more, today his daughter breaks the routine - she suddenly lets go of his hand and quickly runs to her father’s colleague and asks her to speak in the corner. A bit stunned, the blonde watches the two move farther and start quietly talking. The boy in his arms curiously watches them and then, as if realizing something claps his hands.

“What is it, cookie?” But the only answer he receives is merry giggling.

The next strange thing happens, when the three of them arrive in his room - kids, looking as suspicious as possible, start making excuses to go and play first, though they usually insist on following him around unless they get bored, and as they disappear behind the door with his daughter’s bag - Master Ayato requests his visit.

Getting out of his office only an hour later, Thoma has to rush to his duties, realizing that he’ll have to speed up if he wants to finish everything the blue-haired man has just told him to do. He even handed him a list with tasks, which never happened. What’s going on?

Not finding the children in his room, he decides to start without them, assuming they'll join him later. Okay, what’s the first thing on the list… Check all the chairs. Alright…

Luckily this piece of furniture isn’t numerous in the residence, giving the culture of Inazuma, and Thoma knows perfectly every single room where he can find them. What he wasn’t expecting to find is the folded papers on the seats of some of those. Upon unfolding each revealed a single letter. Strange… Well, at least the chairs themselves are in the required condition.

Tucking the papers in his pocket and fishing the list out of the other one, the man checks his next destination. Check all the bushes around the main building. Blinking, he looks again. No, the handwriting is definitely his master’s, but the contents? In his style, but why so sudden?

Following every single point, Thoma manages to find in total 13 papers with letters on it, before the list stops being weird and advises the housekeeper to dedicate the time before lunch to his common responsibilities. Which he, with an exhale of relief, proceeds to fulfill.

When the time for lunch rolls around, kids, as if magically, reappear at his side and innocently smile at him, asking how he spent his time. He promises to tell them over lunch.

Lunch, that brings him four more pieces of paper. And suddenly, both kids are not that interested in food.

“Make a phrase, make a phrase!” His daughter chants, holding her brother in her lap, and the little boy claps his hands, chanting ‘make! make!’. Already realizing that all of this was their meticulously crafted plan (to participate in which they managed to convince quite a few people), Thoma doesn’t oppose, putting all the papers on the table in front of him.

S V E E T S I R H E Y B T

And A P A P which he got from his lunch.

“The” is guessed immediately. “Is” as well. When he reaches for the “A P A P” to add it to the pile, the girl suddenly lunges forward, putting her hand on top of it and shaking her head. Alright, not yet.

S V E E T R Y B is left. Okay, maybe “very” and… “best”!

Moving the pieces around in utter concentration, the man puts the words in the right order. And only then the ten-year old lifts her hand. With a baited breath he moves the four remaining pieces a little more and his heart skips a beat, and the summer-green eyes widen.

PAPA IS THE VERY BEST

“Surprise!” The girl beams with the widest smile, hugging her brother. “We wrote it together! See how some of the letters are clumsy? He did it!” She proudly looks at the boy, gently ruffling his hair. “Recently he was trying to learn how to write! You are the first one who sees it, even mom didn’t! And we chose this phrase, because- dad, are you crying?”

Warm silent tears are indeed running down his cheeks and the man nods, not trusting his voice. A whirlwind of emotions overtakes him, making it a little hard to formulate his thoughts, but he reacts immediately when his kids rush to him, opening his arms and catching them in a tight embrace. He'll tell them how touched he is, he'll praise them, he'll declare his love for them again and again. A tiny bit later. Now he just needs to hold them and hear that he, for real, "is the very best papa".

Alhaitham and Kaveh

Listen, just LISTEN - imagine these men’s pure shock when their wives surprise them over a double date at Kaveh’s house with their pregnancies. Like, AT THE SAME TIME. Kaveh is gaping at his woman, but Alhaitham is no better - a glass with wine frozen in air in the middle of his attempt to put it back on the table as his eyes are not blinking, glued to his spouse. The blonde would be the first one to break from his stupor and tightly hug his wife, kissing all over her face all laughter and little jumping in place, while his junior would finally put the glass down and beckon his woman onto his lap and bury his face in her neck with arms around her body, quietly thanking her for amazing news.

The kids are not even formed in the women’s stomachs, but they already have a story to share.

Alhaitham

Despite not giving the impression the man likes the idea of being a father to a child together with you, his beloved. Of course the pregnancy was planned, but even he couldn’t predict the possibility of you and his friend’s wife being pregnant at the same time. Though he does find it a little amusing and can’t lie to himself that watching you and your female friend discuss the nursery designs, the clothes, the gender, the two babies becoming akin to siblings warms his heart.

He always loved quiet evenings with you, but later, as your bump got more and more prominent, he finds himself craving your back pressed to his chest and his palms cradling your rounding stomach. He talks to his kid in there, reads them books and soothes, when they are restless and don’t let you sleep that well. And that’s how early on you understood who’s going to be the one putting your newborn to sleep, because your persuasions didn’t work that well.

And your husband doesn’t mind. He actually loves cradling his daughter - yes, it’s a little girl! - to his chest and lull her to sleep - it gives him an unimaginable sense of fulfillment.

As your little wonder grows older, Kaveh can’t help but comment how similar her scowl is to her father’s - combined with the annoyed sharp glare of the eyes she also got from him. But that’s only when she is being capricious. Most of the time she is calm and sporting your sweet smile, voice soft and eyes lacking the mentioned above sharpness.

By the way, she is older than Kaveh’s kid, which makes the Scribe just a little bit smug.

Alhaitham is all too happy to be the one educating her. He makes sure to balance her time spending with him and her time spending with you, encouraging her to engage in your hobbies and have a mother-daughter time. But the most he loves the time the three of you spend together - be it as simple as grocery shopping, having a meal together or cuddling in the evening, or going on whole little expeditions, because his girl wants to explore something on the topic she is currently interested in.

Oh, and he is so biased when it comes to her. There is only one non-scholar kid in all of Sumeru who has her own personal access to the House of Daena, research laboratories, research data and the Scribe’s office at any working hour - and that’s your daughter.

“Look, that’s the Scribe’s wife!”

Taken aback, you stop in your way when at least a dozen students surround you. Raising an eyebrow you survey their faces thoughtfully, noting that they seem to be quite desperate. But even before you can open your mouth they interrupt.

“Tell him to let us in! We have applications to submit!”

“And I have questions why mine was declined!”

“I need his signature on my thesis papers!”

“He locked himself inside with your daughter and said not to disturb their nap! Unbelievable-”

“And how exactly can I help?” You cut through the cacophony of their voices. Students look at you as if you’ve just grown a second head.

“...you are his wife? You can influence him.” “First of all, demanding something from a person you barely know is simply rude,” you narrow your eyes and a chill runs down some of the spines - for a moment you looked just like your husband. “Secondly, I am not involved in his work and I don’t plan to. Now, please, step aside.”

“You can’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, and you can? Let me guess, at least half of you missed deadlines, a small portion made mistakes again and the rest are not in an urgent need to see my husband, but decided to stick with others in hopes that getting to him right now will work?”

Leaving them stunned by your easy guess, you finally push your way through, holding a box with food you brought for lunch close to your chest. Once in front of the door you don’t even have the time to raise a fist for knocking, because the door unlocks and opens, revealing the tall man behind it.

Silently and quickly you step inside and the door shuts again, the key turns in the lock and then is thrown on the nearest table. The office meets you with welcomed tranquility, and dimmed lights are a nice contrast to the blindingly white walls of the Akademiya.

“So, you heard everything? They said you were napping,” you question his guess of when to open the door to let you in. Alhaitham rolls his eyes, glaring at the hindrance you left behind the door, and then takes the box from you.

“I was, but since I lent my earpieces I could hear the commotion in the corridor,” with his free hand he takes yours and leads you further into the room. There, on the sofa, you spot your daughter - wearing her dad’s device and napping, curled under his cape.

“Oh Dendro Archon, she is so adorable,” you coo in awe. “Look how big your things are on her!”

“She demanded I take a break and sit with her,” the Scribe hums, putting the food on the table and then locking both of his arms around you in an embrace. “But the more she was reading to me while sitting at my side, the sleepier she was getting, so we decided to nap.”

You listen to him, while observing your precious girl. She seems serene and content, holding onto the gold-embroidered piece of fabric, surely containing her father’s soothing scent. The earpieces are adjusted to hold onto her head and in silence you can even catch the faintest sounds of a melody. Ah, if only you had a Kamera with you…

“Let’s get her her own earpieces and cape.”

“The cape is unnecessary, but I did consider the device. I could make her her own, especially since she’s been complaining about having hard times to concentrate while she is at the Akademiya.” “But with the cape she’d be just like you!”

“Am I alone not enough for you already?” Light turquoise eyes are hard to read, but you manage to catch a shadow of amusement.

“But matching outfits are charming! Like, remember the last time we’ve been to Kaveh’s? The whole family had matching robes!”

“Then you’ll have to dress like me too.”

“If I am to get an intricate cape and a device to block the sounds of you huffing - I don’t mind.”

Alhaitham huffs. Then stops, realizing he’s just done what you were accusing him of, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Kidding, kidding. Let’s discuss it over lunch. Can you wake her while I am setting the table?”

Your husband nods and, receiving a quick peck to his cheek, releases you from his hold, stepping closer to the sofa.

As you busy yourself with the food, you occasionally glance at the two from the corner of your eye, absolutely swooning over how gently Alhaitham takes the earpieces off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, softly murmurs her name and coaxes her from sleep with the news that mommy came and brought delicious food with her. And when two sets of identical eyes look at you tenderly, a loving smile lights up your face.

Kaveh

Can you see this man sticking his finger in Alhaitham's direction and declaring that his kid is going to be senior to his friend's? Because I can. (Too bad he was wrong).

As well as I can see this man accidentally becoming supportive not only of you but the other man's family as well - and drawing the blueprints for both nurseries is probably only the beginning (but you were the only one whose every suggestion he took without arguing).

From day one his mind is set on being the best dad for your baby, just like he is the best husband to you. He reads books, seeks advice in Bimarstan, even writes letters to his mother in hopes she'll share her experience, that could help you. Though when it comes to shopping for your yet unborn baby, you have to physically restrain him from buying every single cute plushie or onesie he sees.

When your daughter is born though, it's getting harder, because your own desire to spoil this golden-haired angel is unmeasurable. Maybe it's because she looks so much like your husband and you are projecting your need to shower him in love and affection and give everything you possibly can, but by the end of the day you just simply love her very much.

Kaveh adores doing anything creative with his daughter. She wants a mosaic in a frame on her wall? They'll put it from the little tiles together and Kaveh would hold her in his arms so she could hang it. She wants a dollhouse? They'll spend the time drawing the draft and picking colors and materials for EVERYTHING. And then he'll be building it, while she crafts little furniture. And it doesn't matter if she did it too small or too big - papa will help her adjust it.

But even so, Kaveh doesn't expect his daughter to be some genius or follow in his steps. No, he knows he'll love her even if she stops sharing the creative approach with him. He knows better than anyone how crushing it is to have everyone's expectations to loom over you and predatory gazes watch tirelessly, anticipating the moment you fail. He gives a vow to himself, to you, to your girl, that he will be there no matter what.

Matching. Outfits. You own so many it's almost worrisome. But your daughter loves them. There were a couple occasions when she drew her own designs for the three of you and you had it tailored, which left her absolutely ecstatic.

On that note, you believe Kaveh's (tiny) fear that she'll lose interest in creativity is going to be short-lived - especially after your visit to Fontaine to let your daughter meet her granny, which the girl spent with wide open eyes and mouth, absorbing everything around her to use it later.

Also having your daughter earned you a heavy supporter in moments when Kaveh starts to overwork. He can't resist the charm of both of his girls and is easily swayed to the nearest sofa/bed to cuddle and share lots of kisses. All his life he has been the anchor for others - now he has two people to be that for him.

Kaveh is easily spooked by sudden noises, and your eleven-year old daughter knows that. That's why she makes sure to tap her feet loud enough to hear their approach through the door of his study. Balancing a small tray with a cup of tea and your special dessert in one hand, she lifts the other to gently knock on the door.

"Come in, baby!" Reaching higher she pulls the handle.

The floor littered with crumpled papers isn't a new sight to her, just as her father's hunched back over the properly lit table. But when the door closes, the architect immediately puts the pencil down and turns around, giving her a big smile.

"Hi, sweety," he is beaming, seeing her adorable face and a growing smile, complementing those precious twinkles in her eyes.

"Hi, papa!" She chirps like a little birdie - her actual nickname - and Kaveh nearly drops his head in his palms and cries. How can he be a father to someone so tender?

"Mama said you are working and made you something! I helped," she lifts the tray, showing him what she has. "We hope you will like it."

Oh, he definitely will, he doesn't doubt it. Carefully wrapping his fingers around the edges, the man takes his late afternoon snack and brings it closer to his face, inhaling the sweet smell of the desert and a soothing aroma of the tea.

"Thank you, little birdie," he puts the tray aside and bends lower to wrap his arms around her and smooch her cheek. "You and mama are the best."

"Hehe, we know," she giggles. "You are the best too."

"Awww," Kaveh can't help but nuzzle against her cheek, gaining another giggle and a cute scrunch of her nose.

"Daaaaaaaad!"

"Sorry, sorry, baby, you are just so adorable. Just like your mama."

"But mama says I am pretty like you."

"Both can work together," he assures her, but a soft blush covers his cheeks. No matter how many years have passed, he still gets shy whenever his wife uses "pretty" to describe him.

"Okay!" She simply agrees, giving him a big hug. "Sorry, but I should be going now. Mama wants to go grocery shopping and I want to help her."

Now that she says this, Kaveh pays closer attention to her outfit - the white sundress with pink roses is definitely not something she'll wear at home.

"Alright then, let me escort you downstairs."

Standing up, he easily hoists her in his arms and lets her perch on his left one, as her arms wrap around his neck.

When they reach the hall, the girl has managed to make two braids in his hair, now twisting them around each other. Kaveh finds both her and your obsession with touching his hair amusing, but sometimes it feels nice and relaxing. And you did put him to sleep by scratching his head on multiple occasions.

You, who are standing in front of the mirror, and even witnessing just your profile, the architect is in love all over again.

He should take you on a date later this week.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't mind that," you chuckle, turning to face him and offering your most teasing smile. Ah, he said the date part out loud, didn't he? "But right now I need to go and take care of our dinner's ingredients."

Your husband nods in understanding and puts your daughter down, dusting the skirt of her dress and making sure everything is intact. Getting a quick peck on the nose, he gives her one on the forehead and straightens up to immediately welcome you into his embrace and share a soft kiss.

“Be sure to take a break and enjoy the snack we made for you. And I mean it when I say taking a break. We all remember how you spilled your morning coffee over the blueprint and had to redraw everything again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

A wild shiver runs down Kaveh’s spine and he feverishly shakes his head. No, if there is one thing he is certain in it’s hating the repetition of this.

“You don’t have to remind me,” his heavy sigh ghosts over your skin. “And it won’t happen again.”

“I believe in you!” You cheer joyfully and it warms his heart.

“I believe in papa too!” Your daughter throws her fists in the air. “Papa can do anything!”

“Of course he can,” you gently nudge her back, ushering her to the front door. “See you soon, Kaveh. We love you.”

“I love you too.”

Waving at your leaving figures he waits until you shut the door and stick the key in the lock, before smiling to himself and returning to his study.

The tea got a little cold and the dessert’s top melted just a tiny bit, but both are still incredibly delicious. Leaning back in an armchair with a plate resting on his knee and a cup wrapped in his hands, the man feels happily at ease and two precious girls are the reason why.

Tighnari

Frankly, I don't think Tighnari has ever given much thought to becoming a dad, let alone settling down with someone. But taking care of Collei, becoming her mentor, stepping so close to becoming a parental figure, probably played its role as well.

Biggest part, of course, was you - another pretty fennec hybrid, who, due to the same biological background, could share a lot of things with him that the man couldn't and honestly didn't want to bother explaining to others, he sure has other things to fulfill.

It took years of courting from both sides, but eventually, you two settled down together, content with each other as a partner. When the talk of kids happened, the forest ranger was hesitant - he knows he can handle a kid, he can handle ten if required thanks to his immense patience and love for teaching, but since you were different from humans, the man was aware that you could be carrying more than three babies at one time. Even if your body is built to handle it by evolution, he still didn't want to make you go through with so much. Initially. However when you looked so hopeful to have a family with your beloved, swore it's going to be just one time and then you'll keep using protection like before, he was convinced and actually quite excited.

So much nuzzling during your pregnancy. So much nuzzling when the babies are born - three beautiful boys and one girl, with the prettiest fluffy tails and ears of yours or his fur. He immediately jumped to being a father, without any complaint taking care of your kids, while you were recovering. He adores them so much, but at times hardly manages to keep an eye on all four - good thing you moved into a bigger house that is closer to the ground, because little explorers did try to escape outside on multiple occasions.

What gets Tighnari's heart burst like fireworks though? Spotting you napping with all of your babies huddled in your embrace, body practically curled around them and a tail resting on top. The first time it happened - maybe a couple of weeks after you gave birth to them - Tighnari left you alone with the kids to do an examination on the work of forest rangers in his absence, and when he returned back - he nearly collapsed from how adorable the five of you looked. Definitely joined.

From their early age he taught his kids everything about the forest so they would be prepared, and, even he won't ever admit it, it stirred something in his chest when they looked up at him with wonder and fascination in their gleaming eyes. They were also taught to be independent, but at the same time to work as a team, and they are so good at that.

The circle of four is absolutely perfect. Little hands are swift and precise, and the absolute concentration is written on the seven-year olds adorable faces. You and Tighnari even stopped your own grooming of each other’s tails to observe your kids’ routine of doing the same thing, but among themselves.

With four pillows on the floor they once again made themselves comfortable, just like every evening, equipped with different kinds of brushes and safe oils.

You put your chin onto Tighnari's shoulder, still holding his tail in your lap, with yours resting under his palm, and make a soft sound, loud enough for him to recognize and not alert the kids. Your husband nods, purring in response and rubbing his cheek against your temple.

"They are so adorable, 'nari," you sigh, watching the four being so absorbed with their task that they don't even talk. The male couldn't agree more, lifting the corners of his mouth in a smile and then picking another brush to get busy with the tip of your tail.

"They absolutely got it from you, my dear. And did you notice how much progress they've made in the fur-caring routine?"

Tighnari doesn't see that, but you, still staring forward at your kids, clearly see how four pairs of ears prick up. How cute, someone wants the praise.

"That they did. And I don't know about you, but at the age of 7 I didn't even know that the fur has to be clean and taken care of anyhow. I guess, I never gave it much thought when my mom did it for me. Our little ones are so independent."

Four tails move a little, kids clearly delighted.

"You are right, they are," Tighnari hums, running his fingers through your now well-groomed fur, and your children hold their chins up proudly. "If only this independence didn't extend to trying to escape to the forest on their own against all of my warnings."

Inhumane eyes glare at the frozen bodies of the "explorers" in question, making them lower their gaze and pick up from where they stopped their routine. Oh, they know what they've done.

You can only sigh, fully understanding your husband's concerns, and finish tending to his tail.

Next is the balm you generously scoop onto your palm to rub into the rough texture of your fox-like pads. When you do the same for Tighnari, receiving a tender kiss to your nose, and then to each of your babies, as they walk to you one by one, still with guilty, pouty, but adorable faces, while your husband is putting away all the tools and products.

Soon your bed is occupied with all of your kids, snuggling to your sitting body and drowsily asking to sleep with you two tonight. Even the thought of making a dozen more steps to their own rooms is killing the last energy in them - the routine has an incredible side effect: they immediately become sleepy when they are done and you don't have much trouble with putting them to bed.

Especially when the bed is right here. The bed that became a large one not even a couple of months along their lives, because this has been a common occurrence.

"Mommy, daddy, can we sleep with you tonight, please?" Your daughter lifts her pleading eyes at you, being the one who managed to directly slide into your lap and into your embrace. Three boys, attached to your sides silently lift their eyes too, pouting in attempts to break your resolve. Which wasn't here in the first place.

"What'd you say, 'nari?" Chuckling, you look at your husband climbing onto the bed to join the five of you.

"Weren't we just discussing their independence? They can surely walk to their rooms. Come on, babies, back to your beds."

"Noooooooooo," their hold on you immediately becomes a death grip. "We want to stay with you!"

"Kids, I can't breathe-" you gasp from the crushing hug of at least two pairs of arms squeezing your middle.

"We want to stay, we want to stay, we want to stay!"

"That's what you should've told yourselves earlier this morning when you decided to get to the river with spinocrocodiles. That you want to stay. Home. Until I or your mother could go on a walk with you outside the village."

At his strict tone and at the reminder of them nearly losing their tails this morning to the sharp jaws of wild animals, four little foxes lower their eyes, ashamed. But they do relax their hold around you.

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temples and contemplating when he's going to get his first gray hairs.

"Okay, I'll let you sleep with us tonight, BUT," he slightly raises his voice to emphasize, especially since the four immediately got in high spirits, "if something like this happens again - you are losing this privilege for a week. Are we clear?"

"Yes, daddy…"

"Yeah.."

"Mhm…"

"Sure, dad…"

And that's the only confirmation Tighnari needs before lifting the covers, because no matter how restless and disastrous your children can be - he has almost as hard a time as you do telling them "no".

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #ayato x fem!reader #thoma x reader #thoma x fem!reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x fem!reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari x fem!reader #kamisato ayato #thoma #alhaitham #kaveh #tighnari #genshin impact fluff

2K notes · View notes

crxss01 · 9 months

Text

— I Love You, Miles, But You’re Not Mine.

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ miles doesn't do dating so you have to settle for just being classmates in public and having extra benefits in private.

warnings ✧˖ ° angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, possessive miles, making out, mature themes, miles is bad at feelings and expressing them, cheating (not really, and not on reader: don't do this to people).

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ muñeca: doll, bonito: handsome/pretty boy, nos vemos luego: see you later, mi princesa: my princess.

of course it had been a bad idea.

agreeing to have a no strings attached relationship with miles was the worst decision you had ever made in your life, you said to yourself that you wouldn't fall for him but you were just lying to yourself.

but the worst part was that you didn't regret accepting, even if the situation was breaking your heart little by little. you didn't even try to end it when you realized you were falling for him which was your second mistake.

you remember the first time miles noticed your feelings for him, something you would never forget about. it was four months ago...

your heart aching as you watched miles flirt with some girl from his class. smirking at her in a way that he used to smirk at you when you first met, sweet talking her like he used to sweet talk you, and calling her mami like he called you.

he still did all of those things with you, but it wasn't as usual anymore. everything changed since the first night, miles would only call you when he needed you and would be there if it was the other way around.

miles must have felt you staring because he looked your way and his gaze turned hard, it made shivers run down your spine. with an eye roll he nodded at the janitors closet, making sure that it wasn't obvious for the girl in front of him.

you nodded at him to let him know that you got the message and made your way there, after just standing outside of it to be slick about it you went inside, closing the door behind you and taking a deep breath in.

"don't let this be what i think it is..." you mumbled, closing your eyes.

after a few minutes, miles came in and locked the door. his stare was unreadable and you were scared of that. he definitely knew.

"you and me are not in a relationship." he went straight to the point, stating the obvious.

"okayyy..." you dragged out pretending to be oblivious. "i know that.”

"so why the fuck are you staring at my girl so hard like that, huh?" he asked. "i don't belong to anybody, so don't try that jealousy shit with me."

of all the things he said your brain only focused on two words. "your girl?"

"not yet, but she's pretty cute. my mom has been nagging me about getting a girlfriend so to stop that for a little while, i'll get one." he shrugged.

"what about me?" you asked confused, you didn't really know what your question was. what about not choosing you to pose as his girlfriend or what about the (sort of) relationship you two had? he once said he didn’t do dating so what was this?

unlucky for you, he only answered the first two.

"i don't want one my flings to meet my mom, and we can keep going with this." miles said like it was nothing. "i don't have feelings for that girl i just find her attractive."

the way he called you a fling hurt more than anything, but it was true that was what you were. just a fling, nothing more. it was sick, but it comforted you to know that he didn't have feelings for that other girl.

"okay." you nodded.

"so we clear on those feelings of yours?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"yes."

"just yes?" he raised an eyebrow.

"yes, bonito."

"good." miles then slammed you against one of the walls of the closet, starting to kiss you. "then let's do what i wanted you here for, muñeca"

...the memory was not a nice one and you wished you could just forget about it, the girl and him weren't even together anymore.

they broke up after three months of dating, but the way he showed her off in public and the way he spoiled her was so real that you had doubts about him not having feelings for her at all. then again if he did had feelings for her he wouldn't have called you every other night to be with you.

you were considering ending it during those months that they were together but it was impossible because the words got stuck in your throat the moment you saw miles so your situation with him stayed the same.

but now you were ready, this would be the last time.

"what are you thinking about?" miles asked as he stood up from your bed, looking for his shirt and pants that now laid somewhere on the floor of your bedroom.

"i want to end this, miles." you said, sitting up and pulling the covers to your bra clad chest.

"mhm?" he hummed, not even turning to you and pulling his pants on.

"i can't do this anymore." you said, your eyes filling with tears.

"why?" he finally turned to you, and his eyes had something that you couldn't put your finger on which was not surprising considering miles was not someone who was easy to read.

"you hurt me, this—" you emphasized, tears cascading down your cheeks. "—this hurts me. you know how i feel about you yet you had made no attempt to end it when you clearly told me that you would end it the moment you noticed any romantic feelings from me."

"i did say that." he confirmed, acting nonchalant.

"then why haven't you? this feelings grow stronger the longer we stay together like this, you also said that." you stood up from the bed, now the tears were from anger more than sadness.

"you were a good lay, i didn't want to leave you 'cause of that."

you didn't know what came over you but you walked over to him and slapped him, hard.

"get out." you said, wiping your tears. you were not about to cry any more for him at least not in front of him.

"alright." miles simply said and grabbed his shirt off the floor along with his shoes, leaving your bedroom through the open window.

"don't ever come back!" you yelled after him and slammed the window shut, locking it.

you threw yourself on your bed, grabbing a pillow and crying into it..

spring break came to an end and you couldn't be more miserable, of course you couldn't be happy (or at least in peace). you just had to see his stupid, arrogant and handsome face at school.

"hey, gorgeous." you smiled, turning to marcos, one of the guys from your class.

"hey, marquitos." you said back.

"you okay? you look a little off." he showed concern.

this is what you appreciated about him even though you hadn't spoke much like you two did before you got involved with miles, marcos still cared for you. he was a sweet boy, rich and a total nerd which got him to get picked on sometimes and one of those times you defended him and after that you had become fast friends but it has been a while since you last spoke to each other.

"i have missed you." he admitted when you didn't answer.

"same." you agreed, in reality you haven't given him much thought. those were occupied with someone else.

"let's hang out this week or weekend, like we used to." he offered.

"absolutely." you agreed again, wanting something to distract you from thinking about miles. "how is that confession coming on?" you asked him when the bell rung and you both started to make your way to class.

"horrible, i don't know how to confess in a way that doesn't sound corny." marcos lamented. "i'm pretty sure she's going to reject me anyway, you know how she is."

"practice on me, i will let you know if it's corny or not." you suggested.

"that's actually a good idea." marcos nodded, excited. he was like a child like that. "maybe during lunch? i kinda don't want the whole class to hear me practicing how to confess to someone."

you laughed at that which also made him laugh as you both walked in through the door to class. your laughter died down the moment your eyes met the pair that belonged to miles, he had a hard look on his face, one you weren't familiar with.

"come on, let's sit together." marcos, pulled you to the two seats table at the far end of the room right next to where miles was sitting.

you did your best to ignore him even though you felt like he stared at you a couple of times but you assumed that was just wishful thinking.

you couldn't even remember the last time you actually had fun in a class, you were really glad that you were back to talking with marco and grateful that you two had all the same classes.

"this question is so stupid, listen.." he went on to read the question but the way he said was so not funny that it made you laugh.

"can you two stop? i'm trying to concentrate." the sudden harsh voice made you jump and you turned in your seat, looking at miles who was glaring at you and marcos.

"sorry, man." marcos apologized. "my bad."

"yeah, your bad." miles scoffed.

marcos put his hands up on defense and looked at you, his eyes showed that he was trying not to laugh and it made you smile.

after the first class all others went the same way with marcos walking with you to class like you two used to and making you laugh your ass off the only exception was that miles wasn't there to tell you both to keep it down since you only had the first class with him.

"no, but like seriously. she actually said that?" marcos asked for the fifth time, sitting next to you in the spot that you both liked to call the f.h.b.b.v.a.o, for the hottest bitches in brooklyn visions academy only. it was located in a deserted area and that's what marcos and you loved about it.

"yeah, she did." you nodded.

"i still can't believe that."

"me neither, but you know what they say." you shrugged.

"gotta expect the unexpected." you said at the same time then let out a chuckle at that.

"so, now that we are here." marcos clapped his hands together. "hear my confession out."

"it better be good." you pointed at him with your fork.

"hey! i have you here for constructive criticism, don't insult it before i even start." marcos defended himself.

"ok, ok." you put your hands up in defense.

"okay, listen." he took a deep breath, collecting himself. "i have liked you for sometime, and i have been meaning to tell you this but you were just so difficult to approach. i like everything you do, the way you laugh, the way you smile, your jokes even though they are terrible—"

"are you trying to confess or push her away?" you stopped him. "do better."

"but how?" marcos groaned, letting his head fall back.

"like this," you straighten up. "i like you and i honestly think you knew that because of the way i look at you," you laughed, yeah maybe he didn't need to add that. "the point is that i was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime?"

"that's perfect!"

"nah, it's really not." miles' voice cut in and you turned your head to the side to throw a glare at the boy.

"what do you want?" you snapped at him.

miles didn't answer instead he took hold of your elbow and pulled you up from where you were sitting, grabbing the back of your neck in his hand and pulling your face closer to his until your lips connected.

for a moment you got lost in the kiss, having missed miles for the rest of the spring break. the taste of his lips was a sweet one, demonstrating false innocence and giving hopefulness to anyone who got a taste of them but you knew better. the mouth might be sweet, but what came out of it was nothing but bitter.

then you snapped out of it and pushed him away, trying to shake your arm out of his grip on it but it was futile. marcos looked back and forth between you and miles with wide eyes.

"let go of me, you have let it be known really clear what i was to you already." you told him.

"leave." miles told your friend. "now." he added when marcos didn't attempt to move.

"it's okay, marquitos." you assured him. "you can go."

the boy looked skeptical but he nodded and left, leaving you alone with miles.

"so what do you want?" you asked him. "came to repeat what you said?"

"i know what i said, mami." his eyes now revealed guilt a look you have only seen once before, after he had cursed out his best friend ganke when the boy had found you in a compromising position in their dorm. "and i'm sorry, i really do. i have just been overwhelmed with this feelings and i didn't know what to do."

"what feelings? the ones you had when you told me i was just a good lay?"

"no, i.." miles sighed. "i regret saying that more than anything, i just don't know how to handle what i feel for you. i even got that fake girlfriend to see if i could forget about you, but it was impossible and she could see through me and immediately knew i was just trying to get over someone but she was also doing the same so she didn't say anything. you are on my mind twenty four/seven, when i see a couple all i think about is how we would look like in their place. when i see you smile, i think that you are the most beautiful girl in this world. when i hear you laugh, i think that it is the most beautiful sound in this earth. when i see you too close with someone else, i think about how i should be in their place. when i'm not with you, i long to be with you. when we argued and i saw those tears running down your face it felt like the whole world was coming down and that it was my fault, i felt like i didn't deserve you. you are too good for me so i pushed you away."

through the whole speech you stood there quietly, your brain processing every single word he just said. the confession was like something out of a movie and so not what you expected, miles morales opened up to you and you still couldn't believe it.

the fact that the fake ex girlfriend knew of his situation with you baffled you, all this time you had felt horrible for being the side piece but she had been aware and had been okay with it.

"but i kept thinking about the last thing so much that i spoke to my mom about it. she told me that the only way i wouldn't deserve you is if i don't admit the way i wronged you and apologized for it because according to her i deserve the world. and in my books, you are the world." miles let go of your elbow and grabbed your face in his hands. "can you give me a chance? i would do anything for you to forgive me."

"i didn't deserve that." you finally spoke up.

your emotions were all over the place, you felt excitement, anger, sadness, and fear. scared of what you might decide if he kept insisting about you two being together.

"i know, and i'm willing to wait for you. what i feel for you is something i have never felt for anyone and if you take forever deciding if you want to give me a chance then i will wait for you forever." miles wiped a tear that escaped you eye away with his thumb. "i never want to see you cry for me again."

"yeah, i need time." you nodded. "i can't do this right now." you said, you weren't in your right mind to answer his question. your thoughts were plagued with what he said to you that night, but the confession was making you consider. "just give me this week to think, and it will be better if you keep your distance."

"alright, i can do that." miles nodded, then looked deep in thought before speaking again. "so what was that between you and marquitos?" he said the nickname with disgust.

"don't start," you glared at him, your face still in his hands. "i was just teaching him how to confess properly."

"mmh." he hummed, then moved on of his hands to place a kiss on your cheek. "talk to you next monday then?"

"yeah," you nodded.

"just yeah?" he raised an eyebrow.

"don't push it."

miles smiled and it surprised you since it wasn't a smirk. his smiles were rare and they were mostly reserved for his mom, you knew that because sometimes she would call when he was with you and he answered with a smile on his face each time, so it being directed to you had you feeling butterflies for him all over again.

"nos vemos luego, muñeca." he placed one final kiss on your cheek before walking away.

you watched him go and noticed how there was a little hop to his steps which made you smile, a hand coming up to touch your cheek where he had kissed you.

this type of affection was unusual from him, he only ever kissed your lips never anywhere else. it made your smile even bigger, your decision had been made the moment he kissed your cheek, but you still wanted time in case you changed your mind.

the days went by quickly and suddenly it was monday again. you were nervous because what if you approached miles and he didn't want anything with you anymore? maybe you should wait for him to approach you?

"just go to him." marcos told you, the boy had demanded to know everything between you and miles after your encounter in front of him.

"but what if he laughs right on my face and says it was all a big joke? you do know he doesn't do dates and stuff." you reminded marcos.

"didn't he date that one girl from his class?" marcos asked, he clearly knew the answer to that question.

"that was different, he said that it was—" you stopped talking, remembering the real reason.

"exactly. it was all to forget you but look at that, he couldn't and wants you so..." he pointed across the cafeteria to where miles was sitting, airpods in and doing something on a notebook, probably sketching.

"no." you shook your head. "i can't do this." your head came down on the table, forehead hitting it way too hard and you immediately picked your head back up holding onto your forehead. "ouch, that hurts."

"good, crazy ass." marcos shook his head and pushed his seat back. "i'll fix this thing."

"how?"

your eyes widened when you saw your friend making his way to the table where miles was, you wanted nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. what is this boy thinking?

the two of them exchanged a few words and marcos pointed at you making miles turn his head in your direction and you waved awkwardly, maybe you should get this done now.

miles nodded at whatever marcos told him, picking his stuff up and standing, making his way to you.

"hey, mi princesa." he said, taking a seat next to you.

marcos gave you a thumbs up and sat on the table where miles had been.

"hey," you said back. "so, obviously i made a decision."

"what did you decide?" his eyes looked hopeful and you were so glad he had dropped that cold front he always put in-front of everyone, his unreadable eyes were not unreadable anymore at least not to you.

"i want to give a relationship with you a try." you spoke after a moment. "but i want to take things slow, like maybe get to know you more. i realized that i don't really know a lot about your personal life."

"of course, anything you want. i'll tell you everything." the smile on his face was enough to lighten up your day, a matching one making its way onto your face. "so how about we go on a date after school?"

"we don't have permission to go out." you told him.

"then we escape, i just want to have a nice afternoon with my girl. they can't punish us for that." he shrugged.

you laughed, you should've expected that offer. "of course."

"is it too early to kiss you?"

"not on the first date." you shook your head putting on a fake serious face. "maybe on the twentieth one."

"i'll wait for the hundredth one if necessary."

you smiled softly, you loved how much effort he was putting into this even though he had never had a serious relationship before.

"i can kiss your cheek though, right?"

you bursted out laughing and he took that opportunity to grab you and leave multiple kissed on your cheek.

"i like you so much..." he said as he continued to attack your cheek.

"i like you a lot too." you said back, trying to push him away even though you actually didn't want the moment to end.

"not more than i do." he argued, placing his forehead on top of your own.

"i fell first, though. so i think i like you more."

"you did fall first, but i fell harder so i win.”

taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho @laylasbunbunny @onginlove @all444miles @banqnaz @fiannee @sp1dercunt

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

#42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles fluff #42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x you #miles morales #earth 42 miles angst #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales x female reader #42 miles

2K notes · View notes

moonlinos · 3 months

Text

Invisible string (pt. II)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: Minho is even more determined to make you see the good in love after falling for you, while you’re too preoccupied with thinking you’re not good enough for him.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, pining

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), hand job, fingering, like two seconds of nipple play, slut shaming, swearing

♡ Word count: 13.2k

♡ A/N: I got such a great response on the first part 🥲 thank you to everyone who left feedback. It means a lot more than you realize. I researched what to do on a trip to Japan so extensively just to write this part that I got sad I’ve never traveled there 🫠

← part I ♡ part III →

The night after you and Minho watched the light show, you stayed awake until four in the morning with your roommates as Eunha cried about her ex-boyfriend. You’ve never been the type to hope for someone’s misery, but that guy is deserving of every terrible thing that could happen to him.

After she calmed down, you fell asleep together on the couch. You only managed to check your phone in the morning, finding it thrown on your bed along with your bag. Minho’s string of messages put a smile on your face. You could use the time away from everything, even if it was only for a weekend.

You agreed to his strange invitation without thinking twice. You did, however, insist on paying for your hotel room. Chan was already being far too generous in offering you his place on a trip he had paid for.

Soon enough, two weeks flew by and the Friday of your trip finally arrived.

You’re already waiting outside of your house when Minho’s car arrives. He greets you with a hug, taking your backpack from your hands and placing it on the backseat. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re settled in your seat, and only then closes the door and walks around the car. It’s something he does every time you go out together and it always makes you smile, even though it’s such a minor detail.

“You know, you’re my first friend who can drive,” you comment as he enters the car. “You shot up a lot of spots on my favorite friends’ list just by saving me from taking the bus.”

Minho chuckles. “And here I foolishly thought you liked me for my personality,” he feigns offense, shaking his head. “I actually only know how to drive because of my mom. I was moving to the countryside, and she got really worried I was gonna be stranded there, so she gave me a car when I graduated.”

You raise your brows. “You lived in the countryside?”

“Yep, I moved to Gurye right after graduating high school,” he explains simply, starting the car.

You nod slowly. Truthfully, you wanted to ask more questions but didn’t want to seem intrusive. Minho had never told you a lot about his life before starting university — the only things you know are that he has three cats back home in Gimpo and started college late for some reason. You figure he’s a private person who will hopefully open up to you once he’s ready. You couldn’t blame him either; you also desperately pretended as if your life before university didn’t exist.

As you two sit in the car, moving slowly through the awful Friday night traffic, you feel the familiar thoughts of panic overflow your mind. This trip felt almost romantic; just you and Minho in Japan for an entire weekend. You should be running away from shit like this, should be shutting him out before anything more than friendship blossoms between the two of you.

Your fingers pick on the fabric of your sheer tights, pulling and pinching apprehensively as your mind races. Because, at the end of the day, Minho is still a guy. He’s still capable of breaking your heart in the same ways it was broken before, and maybe even in new ways. He could still cheat on you, fall in love with someone else, treat you like nothing more than an object or a nuisance in his life, wake up one day and simply decide he’s had enough of you.

But he’s also Minho.

Your heart quickly countered every single reason your brain came up with on why you should run away from the situation.

How could Minho, who believes that love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself, cheat on you?

How could Minho, who told you that love makes it so that you can only see the one you love, fall in love with someone else?

How could Minho, who does stupid romance movie shit like opening car doors and pulling out chairs for you, insisting that he should walk on the street side when you’re together, reading classic novels, learning how to cook so his mom doesn’t have to, all while having three fucking cats, possibly break your heart?

Part of you hates how you have to do mental gymnastics to even consider allowing yourself to feel something more for a guy, but a bigger part knows the hurt that inevitably comes with love isn’t worth it.

You hear a soft chuckle beside you, and you lift your gaze to find Minho smiling at you as you stop at a red light.

“Is that a style thing?” He asks, gesturing toward your thighs with a nod. You furrow your brows. The light turns green, and his attention is back on the road, a grin spread across his lips. “Ripping holes in your tights. Is that a style thing?”

You look down toward your legs and grimace as you realize you had mindlessly torn two holes in your tights while overthinking. You mentally curse yourself.

“I’m cold,” you lie with an awkward giggle. “Was trying to warm myself up.”

Minho hums, stepping on the brakes as you encounter another traffic jam. He unbuckles his seat belt, turns his body toward the back seat, and retrieves his jacket before draping it over your thighs. He shoots you a small smile and turns his attention back toward the road.

The side of your brain that was against Minho and anything romantic with him just a few moments ago is completely swallowed up, dissipating as you ultimately admit to yourself that you don’t hate the prospect of this being a romantic trip as long as it’s with him.

God, you really don’t hate it one bit.

You two finally arrive at the airport just in time to board your flight with no issues. You’re not big on flying, but the flight is just a little over two hours, and Minho is such a calming presence next to you. He quietly read you some harlequin romance he picked up at the airport bookstore, and you two laughed a bit too loudly at the over-the-top plot and theatrical writing. The two of you were taken aback as the book turned out to be erotica, but hearing Minho dramatically read to you in a whisper about the hunky love interest and his manhood made you laugh until tears formed in your eyes.

After that, you two somehow end up talking about your lives back home. Minho shares how he always cooks Christmas dinner for his family, and his favorite part of the night is always the praises his grandmother throws his way. He explains that although he started cooking simply to help his mother, he found that he genuinely enjoyed it. He said he missed doing it every day, having stopped because his roommates had begun treating him as nothing more than a personal cook. You listen to his every word with a smile on your face that you can’t hide. It feels like he’s slowly opening up more to you about his life outside of university, and even something as small as this detail about his home life makes you feel closer to him.

The flight is so pleasant that you only realize you’ve landed once you see Minho unbuckling his seat belt.

You two take an Uber to the hotel, arriving in thirty minutes — you insist on paying since you’re basically here for free. You stare out the car window in awe the entire ride, Minho fondly laughing at your amazement.

As you arrive, you struggle with your backpack, pulling it out of the backseat with such force you would have fallen backward had it not been for Minho’s hands holding your shoulders. He asks if you’re okay with a chuckle, and you groan about how heavy your backpack is. Packing light wasn’t your forte.

As you two walk toward the hotel entrance, the weight on your shoulders disappears suddenly. You furrow your brows and look behind you. Minho had nonchalantly picked your backpack up by the handle and lifted it off your shoulders, carrying all the weight in his arms. You bite back a smile, murmuring a thank you. He just nods, like he hasn’t just done yet another thing you thought only happened in books written by women.

You feel that damn pinwheel return to your chest, making you feel a kind of thrill that you haven’t felt in a while. A good kind.

The hotel is relatively small, clearly on the cheap side, although it’s still quite charming. Minho mutters an apology as he catches you looking around the place.

“It was the only place I could afford being a broke college student,” He explains with a sheepish chuckle, and you shake your head.

“It’s lovely. I’m so happy to be here, I think I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Minho is the one who checks you in, speaking in near-perfect Japanese to the front desk clerk. You focus on the wood chipping on the table and bite the inside of your cheek as you inwardly berate yourself for finding it so damn attractive. It was different from your classes or your small study sessions. You had never truly grasped just how good Minho was until right now. You didn’t understand a word he said. All you know is that he sounded too sexy for his own good while saying it.

Minho hands you the key and tells you the room number, and you finally make your way up the stairs. He walks beside you the whole way, and you wonder if his room is on the same floor as yours or if he’s just doing this so he can hold your backpack off your shoulders.

As you reach your room on the third floor, he stops you before you can insert the key into the door.

“Before you go inside…” He trails off, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I — we could only afford to pay for one room, so this is actually our room.”

Your eyes widen for a second before you nod slowly. “Oh. It’s… okay,” you assure him, although there’s very little confidence in your voice. The prospect of sharing a bed with Minho makes you nervous, but not for the reasons you thought it would.

“There are two beds! Of course,” He assures you, and you mentally slap yourself on the forehead for feeling disappointed at this information.

It’s because you’ve exclusively been having sex with Hyunjin for so long, you reason with yourself. Your hormones must be making you stupid, making you want something more with someone else who isn’t him.

Yeah, that’s it.

Minho’s your friend, after all. It wouldn’t make sense for you to want anything more with him.

It’s just your stupid hormones.

You turn the key and open the door, stepping inside the tiny room with Minho. The two beds were so close together due to the room size that they might as well be just one. The only other piece of furniture is a bedside table, which basically connects the two beds.

It’s only once you slide your backpack straps off your shoulders that Minho lets go of the handle, and you toss it on the plain white sheets of the bed to your right by the bathroom door.

Feeling a chill run through your body, you let out a groan. The heater in your room is clearly not the best.

“Tights and a skirt weren’t the right choice for this weather. This shitty heater also isn’t helping,” you grumble.

Minho chuckles behind you, and you hear the sound of the bed springs as he all but throws himself onto the bed. “Poking holes in your tights probably didn’t help either,” he jokes, and you force out a chuckle.

It seems you chose today to act like a complete idiot.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom to change into your warm sleep clothes. The first thing you notice as you walk out into the room again is Minho’s bright orange sweater with a cat knitted on the front. He’s lying down, his back resting on the wall since the beds don’t have a headboard, and the color of his sweater might be a bit offensive to the eyes, but it’s quickly forgiven once you take in the kitten adorning the fabric.

You giggle, and he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours.

“Your sweater is really cute,” you tell him as you sit down in your bed, crossing your legs in an attempt to warm yourself a bit more.

Minho grins. “I know,” He says smugly, “It reminds me of two of my cats because of the color.”

“You know,” you hummed, “You never showed me any pictures of your cats.”

You watch as his eyes light up at your words. He locks his phone before quickly turning it to face you, showing you his wallpaper. Your lips stretch into a fond smile as you analyze the picture: Minho holding an orange and white cat close to his face with a grin, a butterfly filter cutely adorning his nose.

“This is Soonie, he’s the first cat I got,” He explains, turning his head so he could look at the screen as well, “I was thirteen when I adopted him, and I remember begging my parents for almost three months until they agreed. In the end, they loved him so much they allowed me to adopt another one.”

Minho unlocks his phone and opens his gallery, flipping through his pictures like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You purse your lips. It feels like you’re intruding, even though he’s the one who hasn’t moved the screen an inch. You couldn’t think of one person you’d trust enough to so freely view every single picture you had on your phone like this. Minho really was something else.

Most of his gallery is composed of blurry food pictures mixed with pages and covers of books and computer screens filled with codes. Until he reaches a point — before he started university, you assume — where the only thing you can see is pictures of cats.

He stops scrolling and clicks a picture of the same orange cat, this time wearing glasses and a hat. You snort because, of course he dresses his cats in clothes.

“Soonie is adorable,” you beam. Minho furrows his brows and shakes his head, looking at you like he’s offended.

“This is Doongie,” he states like it’s obvious, “The second cat I adopted.”

Your brows furrow as well. “Minho, that’s the same cat.”

He clicks his tongue, closing the picture and scrolling before opening another one; two orange and white cats lay together on a cat tree. Your lips fall open.

“See? This one is Soonie, he has a white nose. And this one is Doongie, his nose is orange,” He explains, and you nod, knowing full well you’d be dead if your life depended on distinguishing these two cats. “Doongie is the middle child, so he’s more temperamental.”

You stifle a giggle at him talking about his cats like they’re his children, much like you do.

He closes the picture once again and scrolls down further. His fingers hover over a picture for a couple of seconds, like he’s hesitating before he ultimately opens it. The screen fills with the image of a younger Minho smiling while holding a gray cat. His wire-frame glasses were round, unlike his current ones, and his black hair used to be shorter. The picture has clearly been cropped, only half of the cat’s body still visible.

“This is Dori. He’s the last cat I got, and he’s actually the only one I call my son.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I adopted him with my ex-girlfriend. She wanted a dog, but I fell in love with Dori as soon as I laid eyes on him on the website, so she had no choice but to accept him.”

You watch as he smiles at the picture and the memory. You absentmindedly fiddle with your fingers on your lap, an all too familiar ugly feeling bubbling inside you. Jealousy. Not because Minho mentioned a girlfriend — you wish it was as simple as that. Jealousy consumed you when you were forced to face the reality that people have healthy relationships, where one partner sacrifices their own desires just to please their loved one. Where you make plans to adopt a kitten together just so you can call it your son. You know damn well you were never even close to having something even remotely similar to that.

You shake the feeling off, forcing out a smile. “He’s really cute,” you tell Minho, “And he’s my favorite, ‘cause at least I can tell him apart from the other two.”

Minho chuckles, scrunching his nose as he locks his phone and rests it on his thigh.

You two settle into bed after Minho walked you through the day he and Chan had planned for tomorrow. He had organized everything neatly in a travel planning app — from where you would be going down to an estimate of how much you would be spending. You always preferred roughly planning things out mentally whenever you traveled, mostly enjoying going with the flow.

Among all your coincidentally similar little incidents, you finally found something in which you two are complete opposites.

That should, in theory, annoy you, but you can’t help but find his meticulousness endearing. You can just picture him searching tirelessly online, crunching numbers and jotting everything down. The image is too adorable for you to be mad.

“Guess we finally found somewhere we’re different,” you mention with a smile as you tuck yourself into your sheets. Minho remains sitting on his bed, putting his glasses on their case.

He hums. “Rather than different, maybe we just complement each other in this case? You hate organizing, and I fucking love to do it, as you just saw,” he chuckles, “We’d be a great team. I plan everything, and all you have to do is show up.”

You nod with a smile, going over the places he chose in your head. You were excited for all but one: the very first one on the list, Inokashira Park.

“You know,” you start with a sigh, Minho’s eyes finding yours in the dimly lit room. “I never talk about this, but I weirdly feel like I can tell you anything. Nobody from our friend group knows this but…” you trail off, gripping the scratchy fabric of the comforter. “One of my ex-boyfriends cheated on me during a family trip to Japan when I was seventeen. I found out ‘cause the girl he hooked up with tagged him in pictures on Instagram. They were together in Inokashira Park.”

Minho hums, his eyes studying your face. After a beat of silence, he shrugs.

“We can skip that if you want to. I just—” He purses his lips, shifting on the mattress. “I just don’t think you should deprive yourself of the experience just because of a bad memory. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

You nod, taking in his words. He was right. You were positive none of your exes ever deprived themselves of going back to places where they cheated on you, so why should you? They were the ones in the wrong, the ones who hurt and betrayed you, so why should you be the one to bear the trauma?

Minho rests his back against the wall, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “Is that why you don’t believe in love anymore? Don’t feel like you have to answer! I just… I wondered…” He faltered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I wondered what could have happened to make you feel that way.”

“Well, that was just one of five times when love proved to kind of hate my guts,” you chuckle. You didn’t understand why, but the words you held back for so long were bubbling at your throat, ready to spill out. And you were willing to let them. Even if only to a certain extent, you were ready to talk about this pathetic side of your life. You would rationalize it all later. Right now, you simply wanted to talk.

“I’ve had five boyfriends in my life, and they were all terrible in some way. I know, it’s a lot of relationships considering my age.” You scrunch up your face, cringing when you voice out the number.

Minho chuckles, and you’re ready for him to agree.

“It’s really not. There’s no right or wrong number of people to date during your teenage years or your twenties.” You open your eyes to find him leaning on his side, looking at you dismissively. “Some people date more, some date less, some people don’t even date at all. Either way, it’s fine.”

Your lips open and close, then open again. You had always expected people’s reactions to be the same as the ones you heard during high school. From your classmates to your ex-boyfriends, even your friends at the time, they all seemed to be in unanimous agreement that you were at fault for having dated so much in such a brief period. You never thought that maybe people with different opinions existed. And that, maybe, those people would be the ones who you care the most about.

Thinking about it now, after hearing Minho’s words, you were certain neither Eunha nor Soojung — or any of your friends, for that matter — would ever think badly about you or shame you simply because you’ve had five boyfriends. It seemed silly even to think that way now.

It was sad how much your teenage traumas undeniably affected your perception of reality.

Minho is the one to break the silence, his soft voice pulling you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I promise you, the memories we make on this trip will be good enough that they override this lousy one,” he vows with a small nod. “And, more than ever before, I truly hope I can change your view of love.”

You smile at his words. “I surprisingly feel my thoughts about many things changing. Love is one of them.”

“I’m glad,” he hums, finally slipping under his covers. “Y’know, love isn’t only romantic. You say you’re closed off to love, that’s really a lie,” he states matter-of-factly, a smug grin spreading across his lips. You bite back a smile and raise your eyebrows at him. He continues, “The love you feel for your family and your friends, platonic love, that’s also love. I’ve been around you long enough to know just how much you love your friends.”

To say you loved your friends almost didn’t seem sufficient. After graduating high school, you left behind all the judgmental and toxic friends you had. You are immensely grateful to have found such good people at university. Eunha and Soojung were the housemates of your dreams, the three of you so different that it truthfully shouldn’t work, but it simply did. Hyunjin becoming your best friend was also a surprise; he was younger than you, and you had never been friends with a guy before — in part thanks to your jealous boyfriends — but he carved out a space for himself in your life and refused to leave. And you were so thankful for that.

And then there was Minho, who had come out of the blue into your life and just as suddenly became such an important person to you. From the way you two first met to your little similarities and how well you got along in such a short time, it was as if fate pulled you toward him.

You smile.

“I do love them,” you tell him, fiddling with your fingers under the white comforter. “And I love you, too, Minho. You’re my friend, after all. In a way, you’re already succeeding in changing my view of love just by being you.”

Minho’s eyes blink rapidly as he looks at you, his parted lips making him look like a confused child before they close. He hums, nodding as a small smile spreads on his lips, which quickly grows bigger and bigger until he’s basically giggling. He hides his face behind his hand, clearing his throat. You feel warmth spread across your chest at the sight. You’re sure if the lights were brighter, you’d be able to see his ears turning red.

You shake your head with a chuckle. The mood has suddenly become a bit too emotional, and you still find yourself running away from these things. However, you were proud of your progress tonight. Talking about love and your past — especially regarding your ex-boyfriends — was already a huge step for you.

You hope Minho knows he’s part of the reason you’re able to take this step in the first place.

“Okay, your turn.” You sit up on the bed, the white comforter pooling on your lap. “I’m curious too, y’know. You’re such a love enthusiast,” you tease him with a grin, earning you a chuckle from Minho, who throws his head back. “Tell me about your romantic experiences.”

He mirrors you and sits up on his bed. “Experience. I’ve only had one girlfriend,” he corrects you, “We met on the first day of high school and began dating the year after that, when we were sixteen. We were together until I was just about to turn twenty-one, so…” he trails off with a deep sigh. “Yeah, it was quite the long first relationship.”

“My five relationships combined didn’t last as long as that.” You click your tongue, and Minho lets out a breathy laugh. “Why did you two break up after being together for so long?” You blurt out before you can process the words inside your head. Annoyed with your own self, you scrunch up your face. You really chose today to be an idiot. “If that’s okay for me to ask! Sorry for being nosy, I’m just— I guess I’m curious.”

Minho smiles at you, a fond smile he always shoots your way whenever you are word-vomiting. Much like your other friends, he had quickly adapted to your habit of spilling out words before thinking about them.

“It’s a bit of a long story. Basically, she wanted a quiet and simple life in the countryside, so I did that for her,” he explains, shrugging dismissively. So that was the reason he had moved to Gurye after finishing school. “I began saving up money at eighteen with my job at the convenience store while she gave piano lessons to the kids in our neighborhood, and we moved on her twentieth birthday. I figured I could just do programming jobs from home, anyway, so I completely gave up on my plans to attend university…” Minho trails off, his voice all but a whisper at the end of the sentence. He shakes his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips as he continues, “I kind of wanna kick myself in the face for that now. It fucking sucks to have started university so late, but it was my own decision. I guess you say stupid shit when you’re nervous, and I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

You had never met someone who would abandon so much of themselves for the person they loved. It made Minho even more admirable to you. However, even though it was his own decision, he clearly came to regret it. People often say love is all about compromises, and you couldn’t help but feel like Minho had been the only one to give up anything in this scenario.

“Were your parents okay with you two making such a drastic move?” You question, your curiosity bubbling inside your chest.

Minho scoffs. “Of course they weren’t. Especially my dad. But we were nearing our twenties, so there wasn’t much they could do to stop us.”

He drums his fingers on his thighs, and you wonder if this subject brought back sour memories — or maybe even good ones he just didn’t like remembering because they had become part of the past. You want to tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk about it any longer, but he’s continuing his story before you can speak.

“We adopted Dori and left a week later. We were pretty much broke. All we could afford was a small cottage that hadn’t been renovated in over a decade, but we were happy,” Minho’s voice is soft as he speaks, a smile forming on his lips as he stares ahead, almost as if he’s reliving those moments in his head. “We talked about growing old together and raising our kids in that cottage. And we — god, looking back, this was so stupid it’s fucking funny,” He chuckled, shaking his head and raising his gaze to meet yours. “We were actually trying to get pregnant. We barely had money to feed Dori and ourselves, yet it still crushed us every time that test read negative.”

You feel your expression change, a blend of astonishment and admiration washing over you. They must’ve truly been in love. You felt a slight pang of hurt and envy run through your body; it truly was so easy for other people when it came to love.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” you lament, although you’re not sure if you’re talking about the pregnancy or the entire relationship.

Minho shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “Don’t feel bad, it was a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine how the fuck we would ever manage to raise a baby at that time.”

“It seems like you two had the perfect relationship.” You force out a smile, waging war against your bitter jealousy.

“It was perfect, until it wasn’t,” Minho shrugs dismissively, “We began to fight a lot after a while. Haneul would always get upset at me for not doing things the way she thought I should do them, down to replying in a way that didn’t fit with what she had hoped I would say. And I was the same, always getting frustrated when she disagreed with me, even if it was about something silly like what to have for dinner. We used to be able to talk it out and come to an agreement in the past — it wasn’t for nothing that we were together for so long — but being in that little cottage, just us two all the time, it became suffocating.”

“Is that why you two broke up?”

Minho nods. “We realized we were merely playing house. Neither of us was happy anymore,” he explains, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “It was like we each had a script inside our heads of what the other should say or how they should act. It wasn’t healthy anymore, so we mutually decided to end things before they got worse.”

Your fingers fiddle with a loose thread on the white cover. You had always been envious of this type of relationship, but you never thought to think about the fact that they can also come to an end. It always seemed to you that your relationships never worked because they weren’t perfect, like the relationships you saw in books or movies — like the one Minho had described with his ex-girlfriend.

You never once rationalized that even perfect things can ebb away. That nothing lasts forever, even if it seems utterly ideal.

“I know how terrible breakups are,” you tell him. “I can only imagine how much worse it must’ve been to you two after so many years together.”

Minho shakes his head with a smile. “I never really felt hurt by it. It was such a perfect breakup she even let me keep Dori without going through a custody battle,” he jokes, raising his eyebrows at you.

“How can it not have hurt you?” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You were in love, planning to start a family, and you tell me it didn’t hurt when it ended? That’s bullshit, Minho.”

He looks up at the ceiling, like he’s trying to find the words to explain to you. He hums. “Well, I loved Haneul. I loved her so very much, with every fiber of my being. She was my first love. My mom once said we were probably a couple in another life as well, and I fucking loved that,” He chuckles, “The idea that someone was destined for me and I was destined for them, that we were fated to find each other and be together across lifetimes.”

“Like soulmates?” You ask.

He nods. “Soulmates, yes. That’s what we were. And, after we broke up, I realized maybe people’s understanding of soulmates is wrong. At least to me,” He shrugs.

You let out a chuckle. He really turned a terrible situation into a chance to reevaluate his beliefs. It was the most Minho thing you had ever heard.

“How are people understanding it wrong, then?” You question him, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking at him. Minho mirrors your actions, a grin etched onto his lips.

“Well, for starters, you can have many soulmates in one lifetime.” You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to ask him more questions, but he quickly adds, “For example, Haneul was my soulmate and there’s no doubt about it in my mind. But it ended, because it was time for it to end. I learned everything I had to learn with her, and she did the same. We couldn’t grow together anymore, so there was no point in staying together.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “I never thought of it that way. You ask anyone and they’ll tell you that a soulmate is unique.”

“It may be so to some people, but I find that way of thinking a bit unfair,” he shrugs. “Haneul found someone new. Wouldn’t it be unfair for me to say her new relationship is inferior to ours simply because we were soulmates? We were soulmates, but our time to be together has passed and she’s with the soulmate she’s supposed to be right now.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against your cheek. “I guess it does make sense.”

He shrugs, feigning smugness. “I am quite the smart man.”

“What about you?” You question, smiling at him, “Have you ever found a new soulmate after that relationship?”

Minho clears his throat, his gaze shifting to look at where his sock-clad feet poked out from underneath the comforter. You could swear you see a tiny smile on his lips.

“I think I did,” He answers with a questioning lilt. “There were some signs, and a lot of things that aligned.” His gaze lifts once more to meet your eyes as he continues, “Makes me think maybe I’ve found her.”

As you take in his words, jealousy rears its ugly head, the feeling almost swallowing you whole. You gnaw on your bottom lip. The way Minho made you feel at times was questionable at best, but you chalk it all up to your jealous nature. You’d always gotten jealous when your friends found new friendships or when they started relationships.

However, that feeling was a bit different from the one currently making you want to bite your lip until it bled out of sheer and petty jealousy.

You let out a heavy sigh, pushing all those thoughts into a neat little box inside your head and locking them up.

“You’re really lucky,” you tell him, and Minho cocks an eyebrow. “That’s why you think love can only be good, because your only experience with it was long-lasting and good until the very end. I’d much rather have love fizzle out than have it end in a way that ended me as well. That’s how it’s always been with me, and I guess that’s why I came to hate love a little bit.”

Minho smiles at you, a genuine smile that reaches his brown eyes. “Well, sometimes love lasts forever,” he asserts, “So you shouldn’t think about how it’s going to end.”

You can feel the pinwheel inside your chest spinning, causing your heart to skip a beat and your cheeks to blush pink. Forcing out a chuckle, you lie on your bed and pull the covers up to your nose.

“You’re back to your hopeless romantic ways.”

“I never stopped,” He corrects you. He lies down as well, facing you, his hand reaching out to turn off the lamp that sat on the bedside table. “Even when I thought you had a boyfriend,” Minho continues, “I was still able to be a hopeless romantic.”

You feel your eyes widen at his words, thanking the darkness that covers you both as confusion and shock swim in your eyes. Did Minho subtly admit he liked you? Were you reading too much into things? Why did this not scare you? It should scare you, should make you terrified, as this is the very thing you’ve been running away from.

You were probably over-analyzing his words.

But why did you hope that wasn’t the case?

The two of you wake up early, hitting the streets of Tokyo immediately after getting dressed. Minho’s list definitely made things easier, with you two hopping from place to place before crossing them out one by one on his phone. Your favorite so far had been the cat café you two went to for breakfast, where you spent the entire hour watching Minho petting and playing with the kittens, the smile on your lips so fond that it probably made you look stupid.

But as you walk around Inokashira Park, that quickly drops to second place on your mental list. It was a beautiful place, especially in the late afternoon sun. As soon as you arrived, Minho took your hand in his without a word. It was unexpected, to say the least, but you were even more surprised to find yourself liking the gesture. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him, before lacing your fingers together.

Your heart was racing so fast you were certain that damn pinwheel brought along a friend today.

After walking around for a bit, Minho abruptly stopped, letting go of your hand and moving to stand behind you. You furrowed your brows as his hands came to cover your eyes. With his lips incredibly close to your ears, he whispered, “I have a surprise. It’s a place that wasn’t on the list. A museum I think you’ll like.”

You felt goosebumps rise all over your body at the sound of his low voice coupled with his breath tickling your skin. You silently thanked the cold weather — had you not been wearing long sleeves, Minho would have seen the effect he had on you, and you would’ve had no other choice but to throw yourself in front of a taxi on the way back to the hotel.

The two of you waddled awkwardly, Minho still standing behind you with his hands over your eyes. He giggled the whole way to your destination. You were too immersed in not focusing on how his body brushed up against yours with every step you took to even think about laughing.

His broad chest so warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you, his lips grazing your neck once as he bent down to whisper something about the museum being just around the corner, and his lower body continuously brushing and rubbing against your ass as you two walked. You had to fight the urge to push your body against his every time that happened, wondering if that would be enough to get him hard.

After Minho’s supposed confession last night, your mind had truly thrown every bit of worry and shame you felt about being attracted to him out the window.

It felt almost liberating, being able to say fuck it and simply feel.

So you were attracted to Minho; why should it be a big deal? You shouldn't deprive yourself of these silly experiences just because love scares you.

Maybe being scared was okay sometimes. Maybe it was worth it for the right people.

Just as your mind was running wild with thoughts of Minho’s body pressed up against yours, his voice whispered in your ear again. You had arrived, he announced, removing his hands from your eyes.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you made out the words on a wooden sign before you. Minho had taken you to the Ghibli Museum. Before you could stop yourself, you were throwing your arms around his neck with a gasp.

You could just kiss him at that moment. That was how happy you were.

After walking around the museum with a smile engraved onto your lips, your cheeks hurt in the best way possible. Minho hurried you as you looked through the overly expensive gift shop, reminding you that the swan paddle boats would be closing soon. You whined but ultimately had no choice but to leave the shop as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the exit. Mourning the loss of a Soot Sprite plush perfect for your collection, you grumbled to Minho about how he had no heart as you two ran across the park.

You made it just in time, being the last ones in line on the pier. Minho insisted on paying for your tickets, and you agreed only after he explained it would be your compensation for the loss of your precious plushie.

And now you sit beside him on a swan paddle boat, failing miserably at containing your giggles as Minho adjusts his life jacket.

“You know,” He starts with a dramatic sigh, “You’re not gonna be laughing if we crash and you drown.”

You poke his arm, making him look at you just as a smile spreads across his lips. “I’m only laughing ‘cause you look real cute.”

You begin to paddle, and it is surprisingly easy — especially because Minho is the one guiding the boat with a steering wheel. The scenery is quite dull because of the cold season, with most trees already bare of leaves and the sky a blend of pale blue and white.

“I wish it was spring,” Minho speaks beside you as if he’s read your thoughts. “The cherry blossoms are fucking gorgeous.”

You look over at him, his eyes fixed ahead as he steers the boat around the pond. His glasses reflect the pale sky and obscure his eyes, but you’re sure he’s blinking rapidly like he usually does whenever he’s focused.

“Did you come here with your ex-girlfriend in spring?” You blurt out.

Minho’s lips stretch into a grin as he turns to face you.

“No,” he answers simply. “But I want to come with you.”

It’s only then you realize he had been doing most of the work paddling, as he easily controls the speed at which the boat glides across the water, slowing down until you two are stopped at the edge of the pond.

Your mind races, but not as hard as your heart does.

“With me?”

“With you.”

His eyes are fixed on yours, and his left hand grips the steering wheel tightly. You part your lips, but only silence is stuck in your throat. Drawing yourself out of the impromptu staring contest the two of you had gotten into, your eyes shift down to stare at your purse which lay across your lap.

You softly utter the only two words your mind can conjure up. “Why me?”

“Because I like you,” Minho’s voice is also quiet. You hear him shuffling beside you, turning his body so he fully faces you. “I know you’re scared, and you feel like you’re protecting yourself, but I’m—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and your eyes shoot up to find him biting his lip, his brows furrowed. He lets out a sigh. “I like you so much I think I might implode if I do nothing about it.”

Your breath hitched audibly. There is still a part of you that’s screaming out run away, this is terrifying, you’re on your way to another heart-wrenching breakup — but that part has become so minuscule, so insignificant now, it feels like nothing but muffled background noise inside your head. Because a much bigger part of you is begging for you to just say, “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

Minho’s hand leaves the wheel and gingerly touches your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin before he closes the distance between you. It isn’t the first time you kiss Minho, but it is certainly the first time your entire being is fully enveloped in only him; from the way his slightly chapped lips still felt so soft against your own to how his strong hand finds your waist and pulls you closer to him.

And his taste. Minho coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and licks into it, your senses being taken over by the taste of the watermelon candy he’d been eating all day until you’re positively drunk on him. Your heart racing and your hands shaking like a teenager having their first kiss.

You go to grab his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer to you, but your hands collide with the damn life jacket he’s wearing. You whine into the kiss, annoyed, and Minho only chuckles against your lips. He bites your lower lip, pulling softly before releasing it and pressing another kiss to your pout.

“I take back what I said, the life jacket isn’t cute,” you mumble against his lips. His smile grows, and his lips crash against yours again, his hands tangling in your hair.

He groans into the kiss, barely pulling away before whispering, “Don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

You hum. “Well, you can kiss me anytime now.”

Minho’s lips spread into a grin, and he closes the small distance between you for one last kiss before he pulls away, your noses brushing. His eyes are dark yet soft, as if longing and affection had melted together.

“I want to be with you,” He says, “But I want you to think about it before you say anything because I know how scared you are of love. And if by the end of our trip I haven’t given you enough reasons to give me a chance, I’ll let you go and move on with my life. If you want to stay friends, I’ll happily do that. And if you never want to see me again, I’ll also respect that.”

Your heart swells with his words because Minho is the complete antithesis of everything your ex-boyfriends taught you that men were.

And, for the first time in so long, you feel the kind of nervousness that’s nothing but good. The kind that leaves you with trembling hands, a racing heart, and a dizzy head. The kind that only love can provide.

Despite his request, you’re eager to answer him right then and there, but just as you’re about to speak, the sky roars and dark clouds gather above. You jump in your seat at the sound, and Minho’s hands instinctively wrap around your shoulders and squeeze. You smile, simply nodding your head and giving his lips a small kiss.

Minho struggles a bit, but he’s eventually able to turn the paddle boat around, and you two begin to paddle back toward the pier. The light rain quickly becomes heavy raindrops drumming on the roof of the boat, and you dread the walk back to the hotel as neither of you thought to bring an umbrella.

“Y'know,” Minho starts. “There’s a myth here in Japan that says if you ride this boat with a girlfriend, then you’ll break up soon. I kinda always believed that.”

You let out a chuckle. “Really?”

He hums, nodding his head. “So I’m choosing to also believe that if you ride it with someone you like, they will become your girlfriend soon.”

Minho turns to look at you with a smile as you stop at the pier, removing his life jacket and exiting the boat without another word. You bite the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt at holding back a smile. Minho helps you out of the boat, his hand taking yours and pulling you toward him gently.

You two run back to the hotel, Minho holding you close to him with his hand around your waist. The streets are mostly empty as people squeeze under bus stops and shop awnings to shelter from the rain, and it almost feels like you and Minho are the only people in Tokyo that night.

You two giggle the whole way to the hotel. Even when you are struck with the realization that the power has shut off on the entire street upon arriving, you simply turn to each other and laugh even more.

You clumsily manage to take a brief shower in the darkness, changing into your sleep clothes as quickly as you can. You realize with a grimace that if your room was cold before, with the shitty hotel heater on, it’s basically turned into an icebox now.

Wrapping yourself up in your comforter, you shiver with a groan just as Minho walks out of the bathroom.

“Bet you miss that shitty heater now, huh?” He jokes, and you faintly make out his silhouette in the dim light of the moon coming from the window.

You let out another groan. “I'm gonna freeze to death tonight. I've made peace with that. Thaw me with a hairdryer in the morning, please.”

Minho chuckles, sitting on his bed as he checks his phone. You make out his features in the moonlight coming from the window, and he’s wearing another sweater, black with more cats printed on it.

Such a cozy, warm-looking sweater. You curse yourself inwardly for only packing t-shirts to sleep.

As he locks his phone, an idea hits you, and your words are faster than your thoughts — as they always seem to be whenever you’re around Minho.

“Can I lay with you for a bit?” You ask, “Just for a bit, until I get warm? My bed is right under this damn window, and I don’t have any sweaters I can sleep in, and I know I joked about making peace with freezing but—”

Minho cuts you off by calling out your name with a chuckle. “It's okay. You don’t need to make up a thousand excuses. I'm cold, too,” He says simply, scooting to the side to make room for you in his bed. “Come here.”

You smile, ripping the covers from your body quickly like a band-aid and all but jumping from your mattress to his. Minho instructs you to lie on the left side of the bed, facing the wall. You furrow your brows.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s like the sidewalk thing. So I can protect you if a serial killer comes into our room.”

“Oh, so a serial killer’s gonna come into our room?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice as you scoot on the bed and slip under the comforter.

“Well, I—” Minho stammers, pausing with a sigh. He removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table before he continues, “I don’t know, okay? I just… wanna take care of you in every way possible. Even in this weird scenario that my mind made up.”

His words slip out of his lips quickly, much like yours do when you’re nervous and can’t make yourself stop talking. You wonder if your habit is rubbing off on him, and you can’t help but smile.

As Minho settles into bed, you feel your body stiffen up. The two of you lay on your backs next to each other in the cramped bed, and you feel like you can’t move. Hyunjin was the first guy you ever slept next to, and even then, it was after you two had already had sex, so there was no room for feeling awkward. With Minho, everything feels so new. If kissing him had made your hands shake, laying next to him makes your whole body tremble.

You lay like that for a while, watching as the thunder lights up the ceiling until Minho turns to lie on his side.

“Wouldn’t we get warmer if we cuddled?” He trails off in a whisper, clearing his throat after his words leave his mouth.

You open your mouth to answer but know you’ll only end up word-vomiting again with how nervous you feel, so you simply nod, turning so you’re facing Minho as well.

His arms quickly find your waist, pulling you closer to him until your noses are touching, and you feel his breath on your lips as he lets out a sigh. Before you can make sense of what’s happening, Minho presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips, making your mind go hazy. You two stare at each other for a beat, your lips agape and eyes wandering through each other’s features until he breaks the silence.

“You make me nervous,” he whispers, taking your hand and guiding it towards his chest. You feel his heart beating quickly through the thick fabric of his sweater. “In the best way possible.”

You smile, whispering back, “You make me nervous, too.”

Clutching at the fabric of his sweater, you pull him closer to you, slotting your lips together once more. Minho’s hands hesitate, his left hand barely touching your back before he changes his mind and grazes your shoulder with his touch, only to settle for cupping your cheek. You smile into the kiss, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your waist. He grips the fabric of your shirt just as you did and brings your body flush against his.

The kiss is hurried, as if you two will be forced apart tomorrow and this is your only chance to feel each other. Minho licks the seam of your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you gasp. His firm grip on your waist, his body pressed against yours so tightly that you can feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, and how with every stroke of his tongue, he devours you almost greedily — it’s downright impossible to keep the whine that forms in your throat from slipping out, Minho’s mouth swallowing the muffled sound.

And then he’s pulling away, and you’re left chasing his lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle at that.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He suggests, his voice breathless. You can’t help but wonder if you practically moaning while simply kissing him had made him uncomfortable, and you inwardly berate yourself, mortification washing over you.

So you only nod, turning to face the wall so you can properly cuddle this time. Minho wraps an arm around your waist, and you wait for him to pull you closer, but he never does. You furrow your brows. Was it that bad? You can’t be faulted for reacting like you did, especially with how he kissed you. So you take it into your own hands to shift closer to his body. Your lips part as you feel his hard member pressing against your lower back.

Oh.

So that’s what’s going on.

You bite back a grin, feeling Minho tense up behind you.

“And here I thought you were like a romantic lead in a PG-13 anime,” you joke, smiling as he chuckles, clearly more at ease.

He uses the hand that had been resting against your stomach to pull you even closer to him, pressing his body against yours. “I am romantic,” He whispers, lips close to your ear. You only then realize he’s hovering over you. “But I’m still human.”

You fight back the urge to shudder at how his voice drops an octave, all low and soft, and, god, how his breath grazes your neck.

You search your brain for something to say but come up empty. Being nervous has rendered you speechless for the first time in your life.

“Let’s sleep now, okay?” Minho presses a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll lie far—”

“I can help you,” you blurt out, turning to face him. Going to sleep is the last thing you want right now. “If you want.”

His eyes wander across your face as he pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“There are ways to do this that aren’t… rushing.”

Minho hums, but his eyes are now fixed on your lips. You move to lie on your back, and he slowly climbs on top of you.

“As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t care what we do,” he whispers. You smile, pushing his black hair away from his face with your fingers.

“It’s more than okay with me,” You answer simply, using your hand on his hair to guide him down into yet another kiss.

You can feel him still hesitating, so you grab a fistful of that silly sweater of his and pull him closer to you until your bodies are flush against each other.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, breaking the kiss. Minho nods hastily.

“Yes, please,” he groans, “I’m gonna die if you don’t.”

With a breathy chuckle, you move your hand between your two bodies, cupping him through his sweatpants; he’s even harder now, and you subconsciously bite your lip. He closes his eyes, his left hand resting on your waist before squeezing lightly as he hides his face in the crook of your neck with a shaky sigh. It might simply be because it’s your first time being intimate together, but Minho’s timidness is genuinely endearing to you.

Your palm grinds against him gingerly, and his body trembles under your touch. His hand travels from your waist toward your lower stomach, and you let out a quiet gasp as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. He lifts his head off your neck, his face so close to yours you can feel his unsteady breathing on your lips.

“Can I touch you, too?” He whispers, and you nod a bit too eagerly.

“If you don’t, I think I’ll die too.”

Minho grins, his head dipping lower until his lips are pressed against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. You’d be lying if you said finding Minho so hard after only kissing you hadn’t turned you on — kissing him alone also made you more aroused than you were willing to admit. But you were more than ready to go to sleep without doing anything about it after offering to help him, so the fact that he wants to do the same for you makes your head spin. This was not on your bingo card of things that could happen during this trip.

He pulls your shirt up slightly, only enough for him to slip his hand inside your sweatpants. He hesitates twice before cupping you through your underwear. His dark eyes meet yours, whispering against your lips, “You’re fucking soaking through your panties, and you weren’t gonna tell me?”

You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing. Wasn’t he shy just two minutes ago? Your mouth opens to answer him, but your brain is far too cloudy to form any coherent sentence, so you settle on a nod. He hums, pressing a kiss to your agape lips.

Once you feel his thumb tentatively brush against your clit through the thin fabric, you find the courage to slip your hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers immediately brushing against his member. Minho shudders at the touch, his eyes still fixed on yours.

Your brows shoot up at the fact that he had foregone wearing boxers, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction.

“I never wear underwear to bed, so don’t think I was trying to seduce you,” he jokes.

“Too late,” you hum, “I was seduced the moment I saw your bright orange cat sweater.”

Minho grins, sucking your lower lip as he pushes your panties to the side painfully slowly, his middle finger gliding from your entrance toward your clit and spreading your arousal. With a sigh, you bring one leg to wrap around his waist, and he adjusts himself so he’s properly hovering over you. You take this opportunity to slide his sweatpants down his hips, his hard cock finally free from its confines. He groans low in his throat, his tongue suddenly licking into your open mouth as his right hand intertwines with your left, your fingers locking together. He presses your clasped hands onto the mattress beside your head.

Your hand now glides through his length, the palm of your hand beginning to rub at the head of his cock and Minho sucks in a breath, breaking the kiss, his eyes remaining closed. Pressing your thumb to the slit, you gather as much precum as you can and spread it through his member. You quickly find that it’s not enough, wanting it wetter and messier and—

Minho whines as you stop touching him, eyes shooting open. Bringing your hand to your lips, you lick a stripe on your palm and let a glob of spit fall on it before finding his cock again, wet both with your saliva and his precum as you begin to stroke him gingerly. With a quiet moan, Minho’s hips buck up at the touch and he kisses your lips again. You giggle into the kiss, inwardly thanking Hyunjin for teaching you that guys love sloppy shit like this and, in turn, making you realize you do too.

You avert your eyes from his intense gaze as his finger moves to find your entrance, pushing in slowly before moving at a steady pace.

He squeezes your hand. “Look at me,” his voice is all but a whisper, low and hurried. You turn to lock your eyes on his once more, immediately biting your lips to stop a moan from slipping out of your lips as his thumb begins to rub your clit in circular motions, and he slips another finger inside of your aching cunt. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep yourself from vocally begging him not to stop.

You focus on your own hand as you stroke his cock, your steady pace gradually quickening. Minho’s pace mirrors yours, and soon the small room fills with the noise of his finger swiftly pumping in and out of you mixed with the sound of your hand stroking him.

“What do you like?” Minho asks suddenly, his breath hitching as you tighten your fist around his cock. Your mind is far too clouded by desire and pleasure to fully comprehend, so you hum, your brows furrowing. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours with a quiet moan and curling his fingers inside you, causing your eyes to shut tightly and a whimper to escape your closed lips. “Look at me, baby,” he repeats himself, his voice firm and his shy demeanor having completely shifted. You slowly open your eyes. “What do you like? I — fuck,” He curses as your hand twists on the head of his cock. “Wanna make you feel good, tell me.”

You’re definitely not used to being vocal about what you want or like during sex; your ex-boyfriends always too selfish, and Hyunjin too confident for you to even have had the opportunity to do so. Coupled with just how good you felt, you know you won’t possibly be able to speak a word without moaning the way you’re trying so hard to avoid. You settle for guiding his hand, which was tangled in yours, under your shirt. Minho immediately massages your breast, his thumb caressing your nipple as his eyes find yours once more.

You feel as if his gaze is setting you ablaze, his eyes boring into you. It felt as if all his desire was accumulated in his dark eyes, clearly visible in how he watches you like he’s drinking in every last drop of you through his stare. You’ve never had someone look at you like this before; it makes you feel so wanted, so desired, as if the only thing Minho could ever need in this moment is you. That alone makes your body tremble, your left hand holding onto his shoulder for purchase as you feel you might float away at any second.

If you were told a couple of hours ago that something as simple as having Minho’s fingers inside you would have you so euphoric, you most definitely would have laughed.

Minho groans into your open mouth, his breathing heavy and his brows drawn together tightly. You force your lips shut once more as his thumb rubs your bundle of nerves more hastily. Your hand leaves his shoulder to tangle in his black hair, futilely attempting to tug him even closer to you before you kiss his agape lips that spill out groans and sighs like a mantra.

It’s almost all-consuming. His fingers inside of you, the warmth of his hand on your breast, his cock pulsating beneath your touch, his hot breaths that fill your lungs as he sighs into your kiss, and his eyes — his damn eyes that look at you as if he wants to eat you whole.

You finally allow yourself to moan as you feel your orgasm building up, whimpering his name against his lips as your strokes on his cock turn messy and desperate among the copious amounts of precum. Minho growls, pulling your hand from his hair — his grip on your wrist so firm it stings a little — before he pins you down to the mattress, fingers messily intertwining with yours again.

This time, you’re unable to restrain your whimper at his actions; Minho had always been gentle and sweet, something as simple as him pinning you down to the bed has you clenching around his fingers. This duality of his you just discovered is something that stirs up curiosity inside of you.

“I’m gonna come,” He announces with a sigh, his hand squeezing yours. You can only nod as you melt around his fingers, your whole body trembling. Minho soon follows, his cum spilling into your hand and your shirt, a low guttural sound leaving his throat.

His eyes only leave yours as he leans down to connect your lips again, giving you small kisses before a stifled laugh escapes him. You furrow your brows, and Minho grins.

“Sorry for getting your shirt dirty,” He mumbles against your lips, the two of you unwilling to move for the time being.

You shake your head with a chuckle. Although you cringe slightly as you feel the fabric of your shirt stick to your stomach.

“It’s okay.”

Minho shifts on top of you, and you only then realize his fingers remain inside of you. Your body jolts faintly at the stimulation, his name falling from your lips in the form of a whine. He grins at you again, all lopsided and handsome, before bringing his hand to his lips. You watch with agape lips as his tongue flicks out to lap at his fingers before sucking on them with a hum, his eyes locked onto yours once more.

Once again with this newfound duality of his. He’s pure romance and gentlemanly behavior, but seemingly so alluring and shameless in bed. The way he looks at you alone makes you clench around nothing as if you didn’t come mere minutes ago. And it’s such a simple act — you can’t count on one hand the number of times you watched as Hyunjin licked his fingers clean after being inside of you — but the contrast of his calm and endearing everyday personality and him suddenly pinning you to the bed or licking your cum off his fingers while looking into your eyes makes this entirely different.

You would’ve never expected this from Minho, and it makes your brain stir up with thoughts of what he would be like while eating you out or while fucking you. Would he pin you to the bed again or pull your hair, or maybe—

The sound of him clearing his throat interrupts you from your thoughts, and you only now realize you had been staring at the ceiling while fantasizing about Minho fucking you. Great.

Once your eyes meet, he’s quick to avert his gaze. “I will, uh, pay to wash your shirt when we — when we get back,” Minho stumbles over his words, his eyes now fixed on your shoulder. “If you want. But, like, I got it dirty, so…” He trails off, and you purse your lips to muffle the giggle that bubbled up your throat as it seems all the confidence he had only minutes ago had dissipated into dust and left his body.

He was back to his usual self. You can’t help but smile as you realize you adore any version of Minho.

He pushes himself off of you, muttering that he’ll be back before disappearing into the small bathroom. You remove your soiled shirt, wiping your hand on it, only to blanche at the sight of the logo printed on the fabric. It’s one of Hyunjin’s shirts that you had stolen ages ago. You mumble a string of apologies to him as you pull the covers off your body. After discarding it on your bed, you change into the first t-shirt you fish out of your backpack, worried Minho might come into the room and see your naked chest — as ludicrous as that was, seeing as he was knuckles deep inside of you less than twenty minutes ago.

Minho returns to the bedroom just as you’re closing the zipper on your bag. He silently takes your hand in his and wipes it with a towel, his head lowered as his eyes focus on his actions. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“There’s really nothing there anymore,” you inform him. “I wiped most of your cum on my shirt.” You nod toward the crumpled-up fabric thrown across the bed. Minho’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. He lets out a small noise, nodding his head slowly before ultimately pressing his lips together. Under the faint moonlight that lights up the room, you almost miss how his cheeks dust a shade of pink. You smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. Minho hums, smiling back at you and dropping the towel on top of your shirt.

Soon, you find yourself back in bed with him, Minho pulling you into his chest, his hands now offering you pleasure by gingerly massaging your scalp. You are almost asleep — listening to his heartbeat through his sweater, smiling at the soft snores that escape his parted lips — when it dawned on you.

You notice just how different being with Minho had been. How kissing him alone made your hands shake, how even without being fully intimate, the way you felt with him tonight was incomparable.

Minho’s words from months ago about how sex with someone you love eclipses the feeling of sex with any other person linger in your memory. You hum, a smile on your lips as your eyes flutter closed again.

Before they shoot open.

Because holy shit.

If it felt that way with Minho, it can only mean you’ve fallen for him.

Awakening to the sound of the heater’s soft hum, you feel Minho’s arm tightly around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. His gentle breathing brushes against the nape of your neck, and you cautiously turn your head, careful not to wake him, only to be greeted by his tender eyes already gazing at you with a soft smile. Cuddling with Minho is another thing that feels different. You feel safe, adored from how he holds you to the way his eyes look at you.

As he realizes you’re also awake, he suddenly turns to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling as his ears slowly turn a light shade of red. You frown, chuckling a bit at his actions, before settling yourself across his chest.

“The power came back a while after you fell asleep,” he explains.

You giggle as you assume maybe he’s shy because of what happened last night. But your smile fades as your mind begins to overthink, your subconscious screaming that maybe you should feel shy, embarrassed. Weren’t you too easy? Letting him touch you like that after just a few kisses. Does Minho think you came into bed with him for that reason?

You think back to the last boyfriend you had, who berated you for how ‘whorish’ it had been when you asked to have sex with him instead of waiting for him to initiate it. And how your first boyfriend would tell you — every chance he got — that you acted like a slut, touching him as if you knew it would make him have sex with you. How, at the end of your relationship, he told you maybe you acted that way because you knew that sex was all you were good for. How another ex had laughed as he told you that even though you went through so many guys, you still managed to be a terrible fuck, and that was the reason he had to cheat on you.

There were also the murmurs around your school whenever you started a new relationship. Another one? She’s boy hopping so much she’s gonna get through our entire class in less than a year. Some girls just can’t stand to be alone, it’s kind of sad.

At some point, you had detangled yourself from Minho, now lying on your side and looking out the window. You never understood why so many people thought that way. You had five boyfriends from fifteen to eighteen, and in each of these relationships, you were either cheated on or broken up with in a less-than-pleasant way. But you did have the awful habit of jumping into relationships with little thought, often because you felt incomplete without a romantic partner — as romantic as high school relationships can be, anyway. Being single and content for almost four years now, you were proud to have worked on that.

But you still can’t shake off the feeling that maybe you were a bit too… forward. You were single, sure, but you were quick to jump at the opportunity to have Hyunjin as a fuck buddy. Perhaps people were right about that.

“Is everything okay?” Minho’s voice pulls you away from your racing thoughts. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, nodding.

“Yeah, I just zoned out.”

Sitting upright on the bed, you stretch with a sigh. Minho takes your hand before you can realize it, placing it on his chest and gently playing with your fingers, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. You gnaw on your bottom lip, pulling at the skin until it stings.

“I’m sorry if I was too forward last night,” you blurt out. Minho’s gaze shifts to focus on you, confusion swimming in his brown eyes and his hands halting around yours. Oh god, why did you say that?

“Forward?” The question trails off his lips, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

With a sigh, you grimace at your own words. “Yeah, forward, like I was throwing myself at you. I’m sorry if it came off that way. I swear I’m not…”

“You’re not…?”

“You know what I mean, Minho,” you mumble, but his eyes remain swarmed with confusion.

“I really don’t.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, annoyed not at him but at yourself for having brought this up in the first place.

“You know, Minho,” you groan, “Forward, like, slutty. Like I asked to come to your bed just so you would fuck me.”

His expression softens, his eyes widening. He sits up as well, his hand still clutching yours.

“Why the fuck would I think that?” He asks matter-of-factly. “What happened last night was completely natural. We made out, we got horny, we took care of it together. You didn’t even ask me to touch you, I did it because I was dying to do it. You weren’t forward — you weren’t slutty.”

You feel the heavy veil of worry lift off your shoulders at his words. It was definitely going to take a while for you to work on that aspect of your trauma. This had never been an issue with Hyunjin since you were pursuing nothing more than a sexual relationship with him — things were different with Minho.

Minho was the complete opposite.

After countless moments of your heart racing and your hands trembling because of him, you finally confess to yourself that your affection for Minho extends well beyond platonic feelings.

With a small smile, you slowly nod your head. “Sorry for bringing this up, I just… didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

Minho smiles, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “That wouldn’t have made me think badly of you. I’m not some Victorian man who thinks women should be burned at the stake for showing their ankles,” he chuckles, and you bite back a laugh. “Even if you had been slutty, so what? I’d like that just as much.”

You playfully hit his shin under the comforter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Minho was unquestionably different.

“We gotta get to the airport soon,” he says with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head, carrying your hand along the way. “I had to book the earliest flight I could to save up some money.”

With a frown, you retrieve your phone from under your pillow and check for the time: seven-thirty a.m. You feel a pang of guilt as you recall how you are essentially on this trip for free.

“Why didn’t Chan help with the tickets?”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek before his lips stretch into a barely-there grin. “Chan was never coming to this trip,” he blurts out. You feel your lips fall agape.

“What?”

“I… planned this trip by myself. Only for you and me,” he explains. “I wanted to get far away from everything that distracted us so I could concentrate on showing you the good side of love like I’d been trying to do with all those fruitless attempts at taking you on dates.”

You take in his words and find yourself smiling at the gesture — the white lie Minho told pales in comparison to everything else he has done for you, both during this trip and since you met him. Truthfully, you didn’t even realize he had been taking you on dates. You mentally slap yourself in the head for that, believing he simply wanted to spend time with you as a friend.

“I’ll pay you back for my part of the trip as soon as—”

Minho’s voice interrupts you with a drawn-out ‘no.’ He smiles as you stare at him, puzzled.

“This entire trip must’ve been so expensive, Minho.”

But he’s unrelenting, shaking his head with a squeeze of your hand.

“I told you,” he says simply. “I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1 @malunar28replies @jazziwritesthings @finchyyy @bloom-ings @linocz @minhochaos @lastgreatamericandynasty1

602 notes · View notes

iloveavatar · 1 year

Text

A mothers instinct (pt. 2!)

neteyam x fem!reader

if you were to ask neytiri how she felt about the na’vi named y/n. she would gladly go on and on about her.

she saw y/n as one of her own.

she also saw how neteyam looked at y/n. even how y/n looked at neteyam.

watching the two of them grow up into beautifully grown adults was bittersweet for neytiri.

bitter, due to the fact they’re no longer little na’vi that like to look for animals in the forest. however sweet, because she got to witness the two fall for each other obliviously.

the two were around the age where they would be finding mates. they both completed their rituals to become adults…all except finding their other half.

noticing this, neytiri decided to play…oh what was it called… a…a matchmaker! she decided she would send the two to go find something at the Tree of Voices.

when she asked the pair to find this special “root” of a plant that only so happens to grow near the tree, they gladly accepted.

“of course we can help! i’ve been wanting to see the Tree of Voices for a while now!” y/n happily said with a giant grin on her face.

neteyam studied y/n’s smile for a second, almost as if it caused him to go into a daze. “sure yeah yeah we can go to the tree” he mumbled, still staring at y/n.

neytiri smirked. “alright then go! take your time trying to find it. it’s rare” she stated with a smile as she strutted away.

“come on neteyam! first one there gets bragging rights!” shouted y/n as she started to sprint.

“wha-hey! that’s not fair you cheated!” screamed neteyam while snapping out of his daze and trying to catch up to her.

the entire way to the Tree of Voices you could hear the laughter coming from the duo.

y/n eventually won.

only because neteyam wanted to see her smile longer… and because he happened to think she looked cute whenever she was proud of something she did.

“i won! who’s the mighty warrior now!” y/n laughed.

neteyam watched her strut around the tree as if she was accepting a prize with a fond smile on his face.

“alright you won! now come on, we need to find this root for my mother” stated neteyam as he was admiring the tree.

“oh come onnn, why can’t we admire the beauty eywa presents to us neteyam? i mean, just look how beautiful it is here!” she said while spinning around.

neteyam however wasn’t focused on the beuaty of the tree. “yeah…beautiful” he mumbled in a daze as he watched the glow from the tree reflect onto y/n’s skin, giving her this ethereal glow.

the two walked around the tree “looking” for the root of the tree that neytiri needed.

“hey neteyam? do you ever think we’ll find our mates?” y/n questioned with a slight frown.

“hm? what makes you ask that?” neteyam wonders.

“well…it’s just that i know your mom and dad mated here… before eywa. do you think she could tell us who we’re destined to be with?” y/n asked while reaching for her queue behind her.

“i think you’re right. we should check…but i have a pretty good idea of who i want to end up with” he mumbled with his freckles glowing slightly.

they both took their queues and let the pink tendrils connect with the glowing stem of the tree. the two then closed their eyes to accept the vision.

y/n noticed she was still in the forest. the first thing she heard was laughter, but not any laughter. a child laughing. y/n walked toward the sound and saw the back of a male na’vi.

she noticed the na’vi was tickling the child that was sitting in his arms. she slowly stepped around and got a proper look at his face.

it was neteyam.

neteyam noticed her standing there and looked up, away from the child.

“hello my love. you’re back early? did something go wrong with your hunt?” he questioned nervously.

“uh- no! no everything is ok!” y/n stuttered out while looking at him in shock.

she couldn’t believe that eywa was showing her the future. her future with neteyam.

she slowly squatted down next to neteyam and the small little girl that was previously laughing in his arms.

the little girl seemed to notice her there when her ears perked up and a small glint appeared in her eyes. “mommy! you back!!” she lightly screamed as she stumbled into y/n’s arms.

she was no older than 3 years old. she had the looks of y/n, but one could easily tell she was just like neteyam.

you could also easily see that she was a daddy’s girl.

“hi baby.” whispered y/n, still in shock that she and neteyam have a future together. plus a whole child.

neteyam looked at them with a find smile on his face.

the vision slowly faded away as y/n was brought back into the present where she was still at the Tree if Voices with neteyam next to her.

she turned her head to see if neteyam was still in his vision.

however once she turned around she saw that he disconnecting his queue with a giant smile on his face.

he turned his head to make eye-contact with her.

the two of them made eye contact for a while. then they both rushed towards each other to embrace the other in a passionate hug.

the hug spoke the words they were scared to speak.

“…did you see it too?” neteyam hesitantly asked her whike tightening his grip on her.

“yes. i saw us. with a beautiful baby girl.” y/n spoke breathlessly. she had slight tears in her eyes knowing she had a future with her long time friend, soon to be husband.

“wait you only saw one daughter? i saw our two daughters and a son!” neteyam spoke with wide eyes.

the two of them pulled away from the hug with their jaws dropped.

“we need to speak to your mother.”

“we need to speak to my mother.”

the two spoke at the same time.

neteyam then grabbed y/n’s hand and started the trip back to their home.

the two spent the rest of the walk smiling and laughing, knowing that they would end up to together.

they then started to try and guess what they would name their children.

neytiri saw the two walk into her tent with giant smiles on their faces, their hands linked together, and their tails swishing in glee.

“i take it you didn’t find the root?” she smugly asked.

the two made eyecontact with her and saw her smirk. they dropped their jaws in disbelief.

“there was no root to find was there!” y/n stated in awe.

neytiri just laughed.

the two teens then started to laugh along with her.

neteyam was speechless. his mother knew they would end up together.

curse those damn mother instincts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

there’s part two!! hopefully everyone likes this🤞

please send in more requests or comments abt what i should write next!

love you guys

~S!

#avatar #the way of water #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #neteyam #iloveavatar #neteyam fluff

2K notes · View notes

shiny-holographic-star · 3 months

Text

LILITH (H13) OBSERVATIONS

Sagittarius Lilith might experience situations that don't let them expand. For example, parents that are oppressive in some way or short-lived relationships. I've had both: living in a golden cage and not having had romantic relationships that lasted longer than a month.

My mom has this placement too, and she had very controlling parents.

A friend of mine has Aries Lilith and she tells me pretty often how her father and friends are rude to her, that no matter how hard she tries they don't love her back :/

A friend with Leo Lilith told me that her ex bf didn't pay enough attention to her (like he used to do), that he pushed her away a lot to “get his own space” but in kind of a rude way (not talking, just leaving/ignoring her and expecting her to be 100% okay with it).

Lilith conjunct Sun people have a side of their personality they don't want to be seen. An insecurity or something that they think will drive people away from them.

I have this placement, and I felt guilty for having broken up with a bf. I thought I was the one who wasn't ready for commitment, not mature enough, not good enough for relationships, but after some shadow work I realized that he had been taking advantage of the fact that he had been my first bf to relax and not be 100% committed to me. He fed me bread crumbs and I didn't see it because I hadn't had a previous example of how a committed relationship looked like. I internalized the insecurities that came up as we dated and believed I was not lovable enough while he deserved better.

5th House Lilith women might have had men/boys tell them they're not special or attractive to their face.

11th House / Earth Lilith might oppose tradition and the role that was expected for them to follow by, for example, having a kid/s with someone but not getting married to the father and even parting ways with them. Both my aunt and sister have this placement in different earth signs, and they did that.

One guy with Virgo Lilith got cheated on by the mean girl of my class. She had slept with and gone out a lot with one of his friends. Another guy with Virgo Lilith was the side boy, the lover, and even though my friend at the time had told him she only wanted something casual, he got angry at her when she wanted to end their not so secret relationship. In both cases, everyone got to hear their stories (mercury rules over communication and gossip).

Also, both of them have Lilith with a minor aspect to Uranus = sudden changes. The first guy surely didn't expect that the friend he had asked to take care of his gf in a school trip he didn't go to would sleep with said gf (:s) While the second guy really seemed to had expected to become her actual bf instead of having had been broken up with once she got bored of him (:’v)

#astrology #astro placements #astro community #astro posts #aesthetic #astrology observations #birth chart #natal chart #astro chart #lilith #sagittarius #virgo #anime

430 notes · View notes

vanwritesfan-fiction · 5 months

Text

If You Let Me, Part One

A/N: My first Joe fic! This series is based off the song "If You Let Me" by Sinead Harnett, one of my favorite songs. Really excited to post this and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: angst, kissing, mentions of alcohol and drunkenness

You pulled your coat tighter across your body as you crossed the street toward the church. It had just started to snow, uncharacteristically early for Cincinnati in November, a light dusting of flurries coating the stones as you ran up the steps.

You wish you could say being late to your brother’s wedding rehearsal was out of character for you, but you’d be lying. You had a habit of showing up fashionably (or what your mother would call embarrassingly) late to family events, partially because you couldn’t stand to be around your parents for too long without a drink in your hand, and partially because it meant a decreased chance that you’d run into Joe. He was your brother’s best friend, troublemakers attached at the hip since they could walk, so your mom invited him to every dinner, birthday party, and holiday. Thank goodness his football schedule made it difficult to say yes to any of the invitations, or you probably wouldn’t have seen your family at all this year. It wasn't a surprise that Joe was going to be your brother's best man, but it did mean you'd been dreading this weekend for the past year.

You could admit you were dragging your feet getting ready this morning, but your tardiness today, truly wasn’t your fault. On the 15-minute ride from your apartment to the church downtown, you managed to hit every red light and get stuck behind a freight train. Even on the walk from the parking lot, all of the contents of your purse spilled onto the pavement, and you lost your shoe crossing the street.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was divine intervention.

As you walked into the church, you realized it was karma.

There he stood, leaning against the door that led to the main hall, his phone in his hand. His blonde hair was shorter than the last time you’d seen him, the tan he got from being on the football field six days a week a nice contrast to his bright blue eyes. He looked nervous, uneasy, his left leg jiggling as he looked around the room before glancing back down to his phone as if he was anticipating someone's arrival, and when he made eye contact with you, he looked downright sick to his stomach.

“Hi”, the word came out as a squeak. Joe straightened up, pulling at the sleeve of his tan suit jacket. The bride, your future sister-in-law, Tiffany, insisted that the entire wedding party be in coordinating colors, tan for the groomsmen, teal for the bridesmaids. You were wearing a simple black shift dress that had been hiding in the back of your closet because you turned down your invitation to be part of the wedding party, much to your mother’s chagrin.

“You’re going to be the only member of our family not part of the wedding”, she chastised you over the phone when Tiffany told her you would be enjoying the wedding from the second row of guest seating. “How do you think this is going to make me look in front of my friends?” You realized that it did look odd that you weren’t participating in your only brother’s wedding in some capacity, but you knew the only way you were going to make it through this wedding was by clinging to the bar and staying as far away as you could from Joe Burrow.

“Um, hey.” He cleared his throat as he slipped his phone into his back pocket. You could cut the tension with a dull butter knife, that’s how little regard he had for you now.

The last time the two of you had even been in the same room together was your family’s annual Christmas Eve party, three years ago. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of eight good, long years, the man you thought you were going to marry and have a family with, after he admitted to cheating on you with some random girl he met at a bar, and you were more than drunk off of a few martinis to try to ease the pain. You stumbled, literally, across Joe on the balcony, who had stepped outside to get some fresh air and get away from the terrible Christmas karaoke.

“You are not drunk enough tonight, Mr. Burrow.” You shakily held out the bottle of champagne you had stollen from the kitchen. Joe took the mostly empty bottle from you with a grin, placing it on the ground. “I think you’re drunk enough for the both of us", he grabbed you just as you tripped over your own feet, holding you up with one of his hands, Ok, I gotcha.”

“If you can’t get stupid drunk while your mom inappropriately sings “Santa Baby” to a room of your family and friends, when can you drink?” You gestured back into the house, watching your mother scandalously shaking her hips as the instrumental blared over the speakers. You got your sense of humor and your low alcohol tolerance from her. You gripped the railing of the balcony to steady yourself, accidentally landing atop Joe’s hand. His skin felt hot and smooth, and for the second you made eye contact with him, his gaze falling from your eyes to your lips, you were pretty sure you were willing to do something stupid tonight to forget about your broken heart.

Your relationship with Joe had always been, well, nonexistent. Growing up, he and your brother were a year ahead of you in school, and they mostly wanted nothing to do with you; teenagers could be cruel, so the only time you saw Joe was in passing in the hallway between classes or when he came to your house to hang out. He was always nice to you, but in a “I have to be nice to you or my mom will kill me” kind of way. You were pretty sure he didn’t see you as anything more as an obnoxious little sister.

“So, how’s school going?” Joe quickly pulled his hand away, crossing his arms over his chest. You took a deep breath, feeling yourself quickly sober up. “School is well, school.” You punctuated your sentence with a hiccup. The last thing you wanted to talk about was how terribly you were doing in college, and how your goal of getting into law school next year was quickly becoming a pipe dream. “School, you?”, Joe’s brow furrowed at your question as you slurred your words, “I mean, how’s school going for you?” He nodded, flashing you his perfect, pearly whites. “School’s good, football’s going well. Scouts are telling me I’m probably going first round.” He looked down at the ground, studying his sneakers like they were the most fascinating thing he’d seen all night.

“That’s amazing! Congrats!” You would later blame it on your inebriation, but not thinking, you threw your arms sloppily around Joe’s shoulders, his hands catching you low at the waist. “Uh, I-“, your mouth was dangerously close to his, and you were sure he could smell the vodka on your breath, but when you tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let you go, keeping you tightly pulled into his chest. You let yourself fall into his hold as the two of you brushed noses, Joe gently kissing at your bottom lip to test the waters. You’d be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind, you had always had a crush on Joe, but it was also a line you thought you’d never cross. Any other night there would have been no question, but tonight, you were hurting, and Joe was your only source of comfort.

You grab his face with both hands, pulling him down to better meet you, your lips pressed together so hard, not a breath could escape. Joe’s large frame towered over yours as you both fought for dominance in the kiss, Joe’s tongue jutting in between your lips. You felt a warmth pool in your stomach as Joe’s hands roamed your body carelessly, eventually moving to cup your ass, gently lifting you and forcing you to stand on your toes to keep up. You were glad the heat from inside the house had fogged up the windows, preventing anyone from seeing the two of you.

“Joe, stop.” You mumbled against his mouth, trying to push him away at the chest, making him eventually break away even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. You saw the puffs of white in the air leaving his mouth as his chest heaved with each breath, his cheeks a rosy pink, lips swollen and red.

“What?” It was more like a plea than a question, his warm hand cupping your cheek as he looked at you. “What’s wrong?” You pressed your forehead against his, his arms still wrapped around you; he didn’t dare to let you go. You played with the necklace around your neck, twisting the diamond stone between your fingers. You were still wearing the necklace that your boyfriend had given you, even though the two of you were broken up. As much as you wish you were, you still weren’t over your relationship, and it wasn’t fair to either of you to lead Joe on.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my brother’s best friend.” You closed your eyes, each breath you took in reminding you of just how good Joe smelled. Your head was spinning, and not because of the drinks you’d had all evening.

“I’ve always cared about you. I know we’ve never been here before”, you knew he meant the kiss, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to happen.” Joe was pouring his heart out to you, and you were still hung up on the guy who cheated. You wanted him, more than anything, but it felt like you were trading one heartbreak for another, whether it came now, or further down the road. There was no way this ended well.

Seeing your wheels turning, Joe leaned in again to lock lips, and you let him kiss you, but he could feel you hesitate. You stepped back, and the look on his face was enough to make your stomach turn. “I’m sorry, Joe. I really am.” You pulled the screen door open with what little strength you had left and left him out on the balcony.

You knew it was inevitable, fate would force you to come face to face with Joe eventually, but you were really wishing it wasn’t going to be today of all days. You knew he’d be here, of course, but you were hoping you’d could sneak in after rehearsals had already started and be out before anyone saw you. You were sure he could hear your heart beating with how quiet it was in the vestibule.

“Joe, I really want to apo-“, you gripped the strap of your handbag, the leather twisting against the skin in your palm. He couldn’t make eye contact with you, or didn’t want to, as he pushed away from the door he was leaning against. “Let’s just get through today”, he edged out, letting out a sharp breath as he began to walk away from you.

“There you are!” Your mother came rushing toward the two of you, the click of her heels echoing through the hall. “Joe, you look so handsome. I was just telling your mother how proud we are of you.” She gently patted his forearm, and Joe gave her a small smile.

“And you, it’s a good thing you’re here, actually.” She immediately began to straighten out your dress and licked her thumb to wipe away mascara that settled in the creases of your under eye. “Thanks, mom, and here I thought I was going to be an inconvenience.” She rolled her eyes, as she always did at one of your quips. “Stop being dramatic, hun. One of the bridesmaids is sick with food poisoning, so we need you to step in for her. Today and during the wedding. Her dress should fit you, might be a little tight.” She sized you up, undoubtedly noticing the couple of pounds you’d put on while studying non-stop for the LSAT. “You’ll walk with Joe actually.”

You could hear the groan rumbling in Joe’s chest from where you stood. “Mom, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, you muttered under your breath, but she immediately waived you off. “God forbid you actually do something to support this family. Is it really too much to ask for you to get your head out of the books for a minute and be a part of the biggest day of your brother’s life?” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt an oncoming headache. “Of course, mom. I’d be happy to be a bridesmaid.”

“Perfect! Tiffany will be thrilled.” She clapped her hands together, leaving the two of you in her dust as she hustled back to the wedding party.

“Joe, I really think that we should talk.” You were waving your white flag at him, hoping he would let his guard down long enough so you could properly apologize.

“We have nothing to talk about”, he bit back at you, and you staggered, not expecting his harsh tone. “I think it’d be better for the both of us if we keep the talking to a minimum.” He ran his hands through his hair, and for the first time you saw how truly hurt he was by what happened that night, three years ago. He left you standing in the entrance before you could get out another word.

The universe really had a cruel sense of humor.

Tag-List:

@wonderlandiswhereitsatyo

@bernelflo

@wickedfun9

@brrbrina

@zobellagio

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joey b #joey burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fic #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

444 notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 8 months

Text

Mr. Blue Sky

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes, I loved every second of this. Y'all are welcome to send me your own ideas :)

Summary: After Max gets cheated on, he can't stand being in the house where it happened. Reader and Charles take him in and show him he's still loved.

Warnings: cheating

Notes: No hate to Kelly. I just needed this as a plot point.

Fun fact: my mom calls Valentine’s Day ‘legislative love day’ and will only do any remotely related activities on the 15th because she has a point to prove.

Masterlist

The sound of Charles' phone buzzing at an ungodly hour is what you woke up to. The room is still pitch black, and you can hardly make out Charles in the bed.

He rolls over and pucks up the phone. "It's Max." He states. Voice filled with the sleep from which he was dragged.

He answers the phone, and you curl up into him, hoping to listen in. "Max? Are you-"

You can hear faint mumbling and the occasional choked sob on the other end of the line. "Breathe, Max. I'm going to come get you. Can you stay on the phone with me?" Charles is throwing off the covers and looking for his car keys.

You look at Charles for some sort of answer. To which Charles pulls the phone away from his ear and kisses your head. "Kelly cheated. I'm going to go get him."

You nod your head in understanding. You clamber out of bed and see Charles off to the door.

Your grateful that Monte Carlo is a small city and that it doesn’t take long for him to come back. His body shouldering a drunk Max through the door.

Max is no coherent and reeks of alcohol. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks tear stained. His lips tremble as them mutter words neither of you can understand.

Your heart hearts for him. You and Charles had made an effort to be around the Dutch. You both actively became friends with him and found yourselves in each others company often.

And did you both end up falling for the same pair of blue eyes? Yes.

It was actually Charles who brought it up first. You’d never considered the idea of being with more then one person. Then you got to know Max and you found yourself considering more often then you’d admit.

Neither of you knew if Max would ever be into that and neither of you wanted to ask. The possibility of ruining what is currently a good friendship was not on the to-do list. Plus, he had Kelly and P.

You shake of your thoughts and help Charles get Max into the guest bed. You and him do your best at cleaning him up and making him comfortable despite the fact he is less then cooperative.

When you two are finally back in your own bed, Charles sighs in pained defeat. “She cheated on him while he was out with P.”

You cringe in disgust. “Has it been going on long?”

“Apparently so. About four months.” Charles climbs further into the blankets and pulls you into his chest. “He gave her the apartment. He was out late because he didn’t know where to go.”

“We could offer him a place here for the time being.” You suggest. The slightest hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

“Pretty sure you are just wanting to see more of him.” He chuckles. “But yes, I think it’s a good offer until he figures things out.”

“Don’t lie, you stare at him all the time! You’re going to be the one who outs us.”

“Shush amour. I’m exhausted and I know you are also. Now sleep.”

The week brings interesting events. Max does take the offer to move in, though he’s been quiet and reserved since he started staying with you. Max, Charles, and Lando went back to, now Kelly’s apartment, to get his stuff.

He comes back into the house crying. His heart shattered and the apartment a mere reminder of the events that occurred.

Your grateful it’s the off season and Max will hopefully have some time to process before the start of the new season. You and Charles don’t push him and give him space when he needs. Though you also invade when you can see he’s spiraling. Desperate attempts at not letting him go into those dark places are often just you being in the same room as him.

By the time Christmas rolls around, he’s doing the slightest bit better. He’s been out of the room more and you haven’t had to force him to eat. He decorates the apartment with you and Charles.

It’s disastrous.

The three of you can’t stop laughing at the mess you’ve made of the decor.

The three of you spend Christmas Eve with Charles’ family. Max hadn’t wanted to go home to his less then festive father and Victoria was away with her in-laws.

You obviously weren’t going to leave him alone and Pascale had been thrilled when he said he’d come to dinner.

You could tell he felt awkward and out of place at first, but everyone did their best to make him feel welcome. Soon he was relaxing, sipping on his drink and engaging in conversation.

Christmas and new years had gone by to fast. January had now descended and the cold weather had yet to completely let up.

Originally you thought Max would be out by now. That he’d want his own space as soon as possible. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it. Yet he stayed and you and Charles welcomed him in.

Max was seemed like he was healing. His eyes had regained their light. The one they lost those first days of December. He definitely hadn’t moved one though. You and Charles could still hear the soft sniffles from his room at night.

He may be smiling, but he’s still broken hearted.

The most interesting new additions are the cats. The felines that are Max’s children. He would probably murder for his cats and become the next John Wick. There is something wholesome and sweet about his interactions with his pets.

Charles on the other hand has a bad relationship with animals in general. Small felines included. He like them, they just don’t like him back yet. Max has been letting him feed them until they realize he is nice.

You also have learned that you can share meal prep with Max. You’d banned Charles from it after he tried once and failed miserably. Max isn’t the best in the kitchen, but he helps out and cooks some nights.

February. The month of love.

Everything around reminds Max of what happened. How he will not be doing anything special for the holiday. He doesn’t even want to go out of the apartment and you and Charles have to drag him to go get fresh air.

The fateful day comes around and you and Charles have agreed to keep it small.

Corny, sweet, and romantic is Charles definition of a good day and treats you accordingly.

You try to get Max to come eat something but end up just leaving it at the door.

Despite what people may think, Max is romantic at heart. Charles learned this last year when the Monegasque asked him if he was doing anything with Kelly for the holiday.

You and Charles are lounging on the sofa with a movie playing in the background. His arm draped around you and mouth pressing silly kisses along your jaw.

“I can feel your worry radiating from here.” Charles stops his kisses and you roll your eyes at him in response.

“He’s not eaten all day and I’ve heard him crying. Just wish I could help is all.”

Charles hums in your ear. “We could see if he wants a distraction.” He punctuates his sentence with a cheeky smile.

“Charles Perceval Leclerc! You can not seriously be suggesting what I think you are.” You playfully bat his arm. “I highly doubt he would neither want that or like that.”

“How about we ask and then go from there.”

“I think you just want him to fuck you.” This time it’s your turn to give a cheeky smile.

This is definitely not how you envisioned asking Max about this would go. His teary eyes haven’t looked away from Charles since the pretty male started talking.

This left you in an odd place of trying to read his reactions and getting absolutely nothing.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to or if you’re not into it. We would completely understand.” Charles laughs but you can tell he’s nervous. His body language betrays him.

Max looks between the two of you like he’s considering something. “You’re telling me you’ve both been crushing on me since last year? And I didn’t notice?”

“You’re very oblivious at times.” You shrug.

“That’s fair but also not the point.” Max stands up out of the bed and starts pacing. “I just don’t understand why me. You two are amazing people and you’re so great together.”

“Y/N has a numbered list of reasons in her phone that we’ve created in case this ever happened.” Charles looks at you expectantly but Your already pulling up the list.

“-please don’t read it I’m already blushing and that will make it worse. Maybe one day but not now.”

All of you freeze at the fact he insinuated a future.

“Does this mean you like us back?” Charles almost purrs. He’s so flirty now but if this goes farther then just a confession tonight he’ll be stuttering and weak in the knees. You know from experience.

Max is the stuttering mess right now however. He’s lost all of his words and is simply gesturing with his hands.

“Breathe Maxy, take your time.” He manages a few and usable to get a grip on his thoughts.

“I’ve to confess something first.” You both look at him expectedly but don’t push him. “The reason Kelly cheated on me is because she’d found a journal of mine. It was a thing my therapist told me to do and so I did. When you two started coming around more, I fell hard. For both of you. I wrote about to hopefully understand myself better and get the thoughts out of my head but they stayed and I hated myself for it. She read it and thought I cheated first so she just did it back.”

He’s in the verge of tears again but you and Charles can only stare I’d utter disbelief. Apparently, both of you are also oblivious.

“Please say something.”

“I think it must be fate.” Again that smirk is tugging at Charles lips.

The air in the room is replaced by a new tension. The kind Charles was originally insinuating before you three started talking.

“So about that proposal then…”

Valentine’s Day definitely couldn’t have ended any better.

792 notes · View notes

pedge-page · 6 days

Text

Candles

Part 5 to Best Man Series. follow Christmas Party.

Joel Miller x F!Reader, Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It's Tommy's birthday. So why are you still looking for Joel to celebrate it?

notes: Its been 4 months but here's the next part for those of you still waiting on since December! The next part will most likely be the finale.

Warnings: unprotected sex (with Tommy), infidelity / cheating, pregnant reader, toy usage, dildo riding, breeding kink, oral m!receiving (with Joel), m!masturbation, short voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cum eating, jealous!Joel, emotions are FLLYYINNGGG in this one

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

He’s at home, drifting off in thought as his hands do poor work on wrapping paper around the new pair of shoes and watch that he picked out. When Sarah, who’s focus is on brushing her doll’s hair and changing her bathing suit, starts yapping about how Uncle Tommy's kid is gonna be her best friend since she doesn't have any siblings to play with right now, all Joel can think about is you and Tommy together right now on his special day.

What would it be like, waking up to you in a shared bed every day? To be the first to kiss you, smell your morning breath and sift his fingers through your bed head? To see your eyes shine from the sun reflecting off of them, twinkling with the buildup of a tear after a yawn.

What would it be like, getting a birthday blow job from you first thing in the morning? Even if you aren’t his wife, he’s thought about getting to have you all the time, just for him. He doesn’t get jealous of Tommy very often, because Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous, but he tuts at the idea that your mouth wrapped around his cock is a sight he gets to behold more often than Joel ever will.

What would it be like, to not have to sneak around? To just have you loudly, unashamed, sloppily, proudly, the way you deserve, without constantly checking behind your back? To capture your lips in front of everyone like it were normal, to hold your pregnant belly like it was his, because damnit it might as well be.

It drives him insane he can’t mark you up the way Tommy can, less the two of you be caught in your affair. All he can do is pound you better, ruin you some more, and fill you with his seed.

As if the last one hadn’t already reared its consequences in your growing belly. You’re too beautiful, too full of something special to be kept to one guy.

Still. He’ll only ever be second to Tommy.

What would it be like … to call you his?

“Dad…Dad!”

“What!”

Joel looks down at Sarah who’s got her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face.

Jesus, she really does spend too much time with me.

“The door,” she repeats, pointing downstairs. On cue, the doorbell chimes again.

He grunts as he lifts himself to his feet, brushing her head messily with his big palm before hopping down to answer.

It’s his dad.

“How old ya gotta be to leave your old man standin’ outside in the cold?”

Joel rolls his eyes, shifting to allow his father through the front. “It’s 79 degrees out.”

“Cold for my old bones,” he groans, feinting a shiver. “Share-Bear!”

Sarah bulldozers straight to his abdomen and wraps her arms in a big hug.

Joel lightly tugs on one of her curly strands and she yelps “ow!”

“Go upstairs and get changed.”

She barrels upstairs to her room, leaving Joel and Miller senior.

Joel continues tossing a bunch of tape on to the sad excuse of a gift before crinkling all the paper up and tossing it. He moves to search for a gift bag in the closet instead.

His dad sighs loudly. “Tommy sure got a nice beat goin’ for ‘im.”

“Sure does,” Joel notes, his attention more on the shoving past the vacuum.

“Good house, good job, kid on the way. A pretty gal.”

Joel closes the closet and turns towards his dad. “What’s your point, pops?”

“You know my point. He’s got it all together. You...”

“Me what? You don’t think I ain’t doin good on my own?”

“You shouldn’t have to be on your own. Sarah’s mom wasn’t...we knew she wasn’t gonna stick around. Its tough havin’ a kid to raise by yourself—“

“I wouldn’t trade my babygirl in for anything else in the world,” Joel snaps quickly. His eyes dart upstairs briefly. Its a conversation he hates when his dad brings up, especially when Sarah could just be lurking around the corner.

“Im not sayin’ that but.” Grandpa Miller shakes his head and takes a seat at the island. “Kid needs a mom. You need a woman. Someone to hold and kiss and make promises to. Someone to love.”

Joel drops the now filled bag on the countertop. I have that already. It’s just—complicated. “There a reason you stopped by? Other than to lecture me?”

His father grunts apathetically. “Just came by for some wrapping paper, but by the looks of it—“ He glances at Joel’s empty tape roll and bunched up pile of ribboned paper—“Guess I’ll go down to the store to get some.”

“Well you know where the door is.”

His dad follows Joel to his open front door to show him out. One aging father and one rapidly aging eldest son look at each other with a sense of sadness.

“Joel—“

“I’ll see you at Tommy’s.”

If you weren’t so pregnant, waking up before Tommy would have been so much easier to give him a blow job.

Instead. It’s half past 9, and you’re just rousing to consciousness. Fully well knowing Tommy has probably been awake for at least an hour but faking it just so he can wake up with you.

“Good morning birthday boy,” you grumble groggily, a soft smile spreading across your cheeks as you pull him in for a peck.

He grins and wraps himself around you. “Mmm Good Morning, little Momma. Ya know what I want for my birthday?”

You did know. He dropped hints like crazy and you already had it ready to go by your nightstand.

The thing about Tommy is…Tommy likes watching. It’s something you figured out when you were already dating after a year. Something about watching you touch yourself, spreading your legs on the bed and fucking yourself with a dildo, or grinding on his pillow and moaning as he stroked his cock from across the room, has him leaking in his palm with dirty words of encouragement.

And even with a hefty baby in your belly, his view of you bouncing on top of the sizable dildo was no different.

“Fuck, fuck that’s it angel. Takin’ that dick so good. Bet it feels good, huh?” He grips his balls with his palm while the other fists over his dick. Sitting upright in your makeup chair, fully naked and facing the bed, he gets a view of everything. His hungry eyes never once leave your body.

You nod. Your knees hurt, but the sight of Tommy’’s heart shaped eyes watching your milky breasts bounce, your lips spread to accomodate the girth of the silicon cock has you smiling for your deserving husband.

“It’s—not as easy with the bump…” you say fretfully. You feel like shit, not being able to give him the show that he wanted on his birthday. It’s a lot more difficult to angel and thrust a stick into you when there’s a planet blocking your view.

Tommy hoists himself up quickly, jerking his cock as he approaches you. He tosses the dildo and crawls over you before veiny hands caress along your hips, over your belly and squeezing your tits. “S’okay, little Momma. ‘m’here now. Daddy’s gonna make it better.”

You grasp his face with both hands and grin, pulling his lips to yours. At the same time, he slides his leaking member into your folds, forcing a grunt in the back of both of your throats as he bottoms out.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he growls, fucking you steadily with deep strokes. “I get my one birthday wish today. Thinking’ I’m gonna leave a little present in this pussy. Have ya walk around all day with a lil bit of me inside.”

You laugh and gently tap your belly. “There’s a bit more than a ‘little’ bit of you inside me already.”

His stomach rumbles with a a chuckle. “That’s for everyone else to know who ya belong to. Nah, I’m talkin something just between you n me.” His arm holds himself above you as he rocks his hips with shallow ruts. “Shit, shit, ya gonna take it f’me? Gonna take my present on my fuckin’ birthday?”

You let out a high pitched whine, neck convulsing backwards as your cunt starts tightening around his length.

Tommy locks your lips to his, tongue’s messily rolling into one another’s mouth. A string of saliva connect between the two of you when he pulls away, only for him to rub it against your breast.

“Tommy,” you moan desperately. You’re close, you’re about to tell him so: “I—“

“I love you,” he rasps. His eyes are shut tight as he finds that sweet spot inside, sending you over the edge before you can finish your thought.

He thrusts a few more times before stilling. His balls twitch with satisfaction, each grunt from his chest echoing the spurts of his seed inside you. He feels at peace when he can be this close to you, his hand warm against your tight tummy and his soon-to-be kids.

His soon to be complete family.

His words rattle in your ears. You feel the opposite of light and airy after an orgasm. No, everything is heavy. Your head feels like a boulder stuck to the pillow. Yet empty. Your body so full yet feeling incredibly hollow right now.

Tommy kisses your lips once more, not noticing the way you don't return the vervor. He sits up, wipes the sweat from his brows and slaps your thigh.

“You okay? Fucked ya a little too hard, baby momma?” He snickers.

You fake a laugh, hoping he’ll see you’re feeling exhausted rather than suspect anything is wrong.

Your husband kisses your forehead with a whisper “Stay in bed, you rest as long as ya need,” before walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I love you. It should have made you feel surrounded by him. Comforted, secure, proud, inseparable, sound, cherished, warm, fuzzy, happy, truthful, light. Your husband confessing his love to you.

Instead, it only reminded you of the dream had about Joel again last night.

Joel in your house. Joel in your bed. Joel dropping Sarah off at school and feeding your newborn with her bottle. Joel cooking in your backyard, Joel’s hands entwined with yours on a walk. Joel rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Joel kissing your cheek and telling you he lo—

You cover your face with the back of your hands. Tommy’s the one in your bed. Tommy holds your hand and kisses your cheek, and will be feeding and burping your baby, will be there for you forever and always because that’s what you promised to each other.

You hold the ring on your finger up high in the air, its dazzling shimmer glints in your eyes. Your eternal promise, displayed on something so small yet so permanent, wrapped up in such a beautiful band.

The same ring that Best Man Joel carried in his pocket safely for months before you swore yourself to his brother.

You curse under your breath.

You’re still going to have to see him today.

He watches you crowd over Tommy seated at the head of the table, your hands lovingly on his shoulders. He thinks about his “one wish” for a while, but he only looks sideways towards you, holding your gaze for a moment before he confidently blows his candles. The room erupts in a rumble of cheers and clapping, but Tommy and you are only smiling at one another. He grabs your face and kisses you, smearing some icing on your nose. You laugh with him and rub it along his own, the two of you giddy and in your own world.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

And when you slice into the cake, nobody really understand why the cake is split between a blue and pink center. Everyones thinking the same thing--we already did the baby shower, it was going to be a girl!

“We might...have found out…there's gonna be another one,” you say sheepishly, your hands rollings over the heft of your larger than life belly that surprisingly has two little bubbas growing inside.

Twins. you're having fucking twins.

Tommy grasps your face and smears more icing on you, the two of you locking lips again and getting a little too pg-13 in a room full of raucous screeches that feel like nails on a chalkboard, shuffling chairs like a thunderous stampede. Everyone rushes to congratulate the two of you, how your lives are really starting, how exciting it must all be, what names you’ve been thinking of, its its everything you’d hoped it would be.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

Tommy knew, of course he did. Both of you planned it, to announce it like that. He’s got that smug look on his face, nothing of surprise. Just absolutely elated to share news that had been sitting on the two of you for who knows how long. Something Joel used to always get firsthand word from. You’re having twins. And he’s learning about it for the first time, same as everyone else. Tommy’s friends pat him on the back. Aunts kiss his cheek and even his dad smiles towards his youngest son’s success, all while the whole time, his ringed hand hasn’t left the curve of your swollen womb.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

He slips out the back of the room, everyone too engrossed in surrounding the happy couple. Nobody cared for Joel’s presence, not since the minute Tommy was born. Nobody would bat an eye for his absence today too.

…

You’re excited, you want to celebrate, and having everyone touching and surrounding you and asking questions wasn’t the way you wanted it. That’s why it was supposed to be during Tommy’s birthday, so there was something else to focus on.

But your body is on edge. It was attention from all that thrill. Jittery and warm under your palms.

Between your legs.

It’s hard to force Joel out of your mind whenever he’s in the same room. So when he dips out of the kitchen without making any gesture towards you, you didn’t hesitate to excuse yourself for a bathroom break. Nobody questions it, continuing their swarm around Tommy now who’s too eager for all the attention to really notice.

You don’t know what you expect from Joel. You don’t even know why you’re seeking him right now, and not standing by your husband’s side. You love Tommy. He’s everything to you.

So why is there still this half of you that feels… like you need more?

Maybe your body is thinking on her own accord now, and that’s been a problem that needs to end. No. No you just wanted to talk. That’s all. He's your brother-in-law, for fucks sake. it’s natural you want to hear his thoughts. He’s gonna be a double uncle! He deserves a congratulations! Hope he’ll tell you congratulations too. Acknowledge it in some way. That its happening. That you and Tommy—are just you and Tommy.

You wonder where the older Miller may have gone in such a small house. Sarah was still in the room, sneaking cake since nobody else seemed to care to slice it up, so where on earth—?

A callused palm wrap around your mouth and pulls you backwards into the dark bathroom, the door closing you inside with him warm and pressed tightly against your back.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispers. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, all the way down to the dampness spreading along your panties. Fuck. What was it about just ‘talking’ to him again?

“J-Joel,” your voice wavers cautiously. “I—“

“You still gonna keep pretending you don’t want me?”

You face him as he turns the lights on and the two of you are caught in one another’s grasps. There’s a moment where you size him up, and he wonders if you’ll bluff his pass.

Instead, Like magnets that can’t resist their attractions, your instincts overwhelm you. Your eager fingers dig into the back of his neck and smash his lips against yours. The traces of icing still linger on your lips and tongue, the two of you devouring one another, fighting to get the last lick before coming apart to breathe.

Joel just smirks, his tongue swiping over his puffy lower lip. “Sweet,” he hums. His thumb brushes the bit of icing you didn’t know was still on your nose and puts it in his mouth. “How somethin’ so sweet come from someone so naughty?”

You quickly drop to a squat and roughly shove his hips back against the sink. Nimble fingers working swiftly to unbuckle his jeans and shove them down to his thighs.

You’re both panting through swollen lips, heart rate moving a lot quicker than the activities you’ve so far done would permit. He’s gorgeous like this—illuminated by the harsh florescent light above, his sincere, albeit sinful, smile and rosy cheeks watching you kiss his hardened length.

He doesn’t force you. Doesn’t do anything to make you feel concerned. In fact, you’ve cornered him against the vanity, forcing yourself between his bent knees and inserting his tip to your wet mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers softly. His thumb strokes over your cheek as you guide more of his leaking cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not even to blink.

Your head bobs eagerly, swallowing around him. There’s just something about that huge dick of his that has you going feral. An itch you can’t scratch until his cum is either nested safely in your stomach or your womb. Maybe it’s because you’ll never be able to get rid of him. He’ll be around forever, and that means you can keep seeing him and his beefy horse cock forever. Forbidden yet yours for the taking. Every day if you wanted.

The sounds of the party outside feel so remote compared to the events happening in such a little room right now. Just between you and Joel.

The babies ain’t quite here yet so just you and Joel.

“Pretty pretty angel, sucking’ Daddy’s cock like that. What would your husband think? Suckin’ his big brother off in your house? I’d tell ‘im you got to your knees all by yourself. Little slut couldn’t wait for it. Second she saw me, needed my fat cock stretchin’ her throat, ain’t that right? Needed me to give ya something today too? Just that selfish, aren’t ya?”

You pull off his cock with a big gasp, smiling lazily. He slaps his cock against your open tongue with thick and wet patpatpats.

He tsks you. “Pregnant gal, on her knees, takin’ cock like a slut. What a woman you are, little momma.”

You hum in approval, the drunken desire for Joel to fill your every senes clogging your brain.

Soft lips enclose around his tip again and he thrusts forward this time, holding his cock deep. You try to remember to breathe through your nose, even with his hairs tickling your lashes, but Joel pulls back enough to just his tip, and sets a gentle rhythm back and forth.

Joel’s head falls back against the mirror. His eyelids feel heavy each time he looks down to you. So full and rounded by a child—two children…if they're his, Joel’s having another daughter and his first son.

“Told ya you were made from breedin’. You’re gonna be like this the rest of ya life. Gonna put another baby in ya, then another—” he chuckles to himself, “N’another—havin’ ya suck cock not remember what number baby ya got growing’ in ya belly.”

He hisses through his teeth as you suck his member in and out, picking up pace. Your tongue works over his tip with each swipe, hand jerking off the base of his dick that you can’t fit. Any saliva and precum is immediately suckled and swallowed, leaving no evidence at the scene.

You’d gotten pretty good at that.

Joel’s beefy paw grasps the porcelain edge behind him as he hisses through his teeth. His stomach tenses, the veins in his v’line straining and you know he’s close.

You alternate between sucking his balls and jacking off his cock above you. “What if I busted all over that pretty face? Have ya walk around your house with my cum on those lashes as everyone told ya what a cock hungry whore you are.”

You moan around him, your pussy so slicked between your thighs that it’s dripping down your pants. Its wrong. Fuck, you’re so wrong to want it. Want Tommy to see who’s marking you up, see how much you’d spread your pussy for Miller cock no matter if its your husbands his brothers.

His cock finds its way to your mouth again, and he starts thrusting lightly.

“Swallow it, swallow it all. Want ya hesitatin’ to kiss Tommy after this. Knowin’ ya got my spunk in your mouth still. Fuck me babydoll, mouth’s a dream.”

His jaw drops low as he cums, and god what a sight. Your cunt throbs as he lets out pained breaths into the air, ready to cum if you were able to touch yourself right now.

You gulp down his salty load, lips suctioned to his tip and milking him clean to avoid any messes that might linger.

“That’s a good slutty wife,” he whispers down to you. Even on your knees, the heft of your pregnant belly is doing wonders to him.

You lazily grin up to his smug grin. He knows you like showing him just how good you are at swallowing loads, like a good wife always does.

He pulls his softened cock out of your mouth, and you gasp a big breath of air, your hands still clinging to his thighs.

You feel his protective hands hoist you up to your feet.

“Anything hurt?” He asks gently, holding your body flush against him as he rubs your tummy and hips. He feels much less tense than just moments ago when he pulled you in the bathroom with him.

You shake your head. It’s not the first time you’ve gone down on a man while 30 pounds heavier with a baby. Your knees are a bit sore, but it’s nothing compared to the ache you’ve been feeling in your back for months now.

You try to pull away from Joel, but his arm is wrapped tightly around you.

“Didn’t think you were pullin’ me in here just to suck me off. Why are you actin’ like this little snatch is happy from that?”

“I didn’t pull you—you pulled me,” you correct.

“You came lookin’ f’me. And you got on your knees all by yourself.”

His hands caress lower down your hip, gliding along your leggings towards your crotch. It should be wrong, the way your hand closes around his wrist to guide him closer, his digits dipping below the waistline and down your panties.

He feels it: the soft squelch of your slick in your ruined underwear, pulsing madly. He grins and lets out a satisfied yet devious ‘ooooh there we go’ against your cheek.

But there’s more. More dripping from here than he’s given you just from the thrill of sucking his cock.

He pushes his middle finger past your entrance and fingers out the glob of cum that had been deposited inside you earlier today.

“It’s —it’s Tommy’s birthday,” you moan, as if he needed an explanation as to why your husband’s seed is dripping out of your pussy. “Had—to give him—ooohhhhuugggg—his…gift—“

He continues to finger fuck you slowly, his younger brother’s cum practically pooling in your underwear. “Got one man’s cum in your mouth and a different one’s in ya pussy." He shakes his head. when he gets you like this, sometimes he would forget that you’re Tommy’s wife, after all. That Tommy gets you more than him. Gets to fill you whenever he pleases. Gets to hear your moans as loudly as he wants. That Tommy’s right to your pussy is his first and foremost, sacredly, forever and always.

That doesn’t stop Joel from seething at the thought of having to finger his brothers spent out of you.

"What, he didn’t make ya cum?” He taunts, picking up the pace. Even as you wreathe under his touch, your nails clench into his bicep, feeling the muscle work with each flick of his knuckle. “S’why you’re so desperate today? Wifey didn’t get her selfish little cunt pleased from your husband on his birthday?”

"I did come …” you protest weakly. You squeeze your eyes shut, head tilted down as he works you open. It’s sloppy and sticky in your leggings, soaking the underside with your slick and Tommy’s cum being forced out by Joel’s big fingers relentlessly hitting the gummy spot inside.

His other hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him:

“Then why you comin’ to me?”

There’s a prickle of a tear filling your eyes. You've been asking yourself the same thing for months. You don’t know from what; the brink of pleasure or guilt, but there’s a hefty stone that’s burrowed in your chest all day that you didn’t know needed to escape. The words are forced out of your chest with a pained gasp.

"... I just want... more.”

It should pain you to admit it, to be so selfish for these men, never feeling one is enough for you.

Normally He would kiss you right now, to hush your mind to reveal something so heavy, but instead, he holds your gaze, gritting his teeth with a snarl just barely poking along his lip. He wants to let your words sink into your bones, really grasp what you've been denying for too long. Suffer with it, even.

You hadn’t even realized he backed you up against the door, pressing his knee between your leg. You’ve become trapped and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers prod your entrance incessantly, reaching deep inside so there’s no way of you to wiggle out of his grasp. curling up and beating your g-spot better than Tommy can—at this point, its very possible you’ve had more sex with Joel than with your own husband.

And that makes the coil in your pussy snap.

Joel belittles you without any words while you fall apart against the wooden door holding you up. Working the heft of his palm against your clit until your brows are furrowing, mouth agape, walls clamping down tight around him as you cum. The door rattles with each little roll of your hips, and your moans aren’t hushed either.

He watches, the way your eyes are glued to him, blown wide in guilt and in pleasure while little whines escape your lips. Unrelenting and stoic as he works you through your orgasm, granting no mercy nor even trying to shush your little cries from over stimulation. You don’t hesitate when he brings his fingers to your lips, swallowing them whole and sucking Tommy and your slick off Joel’s fingers. He wipes the rest off on your shirt.

Every emotion you feel with Tommy, you feel with Joel in moments like these. He holds you close to him as you breathe in his musky, minty scent. His shirt smells a bit like flowered softener and a hint of early morning sweat. Fumigated with the thick aroma of sex.

You're looking at the ring on your knuckle.

“I helped pick it out. Carried it for months. ’S practically my ring to you too.” He’s babbling now, getting lost in that hazy after-orgasm glow between two people who are connected by a strong, strange bond. “Sometimes …sometimes I think about stealing you away all to myself.”

He makes you two look in the mirror together, with him cradling your belly as you hold your ring hand to your chest. “Look,” he commands softly against your ear. “Kinda looks like our own little family.”

You hate that you kind of liked that idea. But then Tommy is in your mind, the man that you actually love, who fought for you, who you tied your vows to, and as far as you’re concerned, the father of your children.

Angry, you try to break away and shove Joel, but he's used to it. Used to you closing him off right after these moments of pure insanity. He's not letting it happen today. This time he’s got a firm grip on you like a brick wall and steel wire melding you tight to him. He knows you don’t actually want to push him away.

"You said you wanted more.”

It’s not a question: it’s a statement. A fact.

The very real thought, the one you tried to push away every time this happens, dawns on you: Joel is tired of sneaking around. Wants to have you when he wants. When everyone is watching.

Not just sex. To be in your bed, making you dinner and watching movies, dropping Sarah off to school rubbing your back when you’re in pain, there for the babies when you deliver and every day after.

You manage to push him off of you and shake your head. The chatter outside grows louder than the beats of your heart. Hoisting your pants back up into place, you go to grab the bathroom door, but Joels strong grip lays over top your and forces the door shut.

There’s a deadly, threatening finality to his tone. “I’m telling him.”

You turn back with a shocked expression, partially expecting him to be joking about it. Not that it’s funny. It’s not funny at all.

But Joel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t cracked a smile. A man whose resolve has overcome his patience. His lips are tight, jaw tense as he watches you try to answer to that horrifying outcome.

“Joel. No. Are you insane?”

“If its my kids you’re having, I have every right to be there for you—“

“But it’s NOT!”

“You know that? Tell me right know, you know it for sure. Say it ain’t mine, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

You go quiet, looking down at the belly that’s carrying your babies. You want to shrink away from your fears, from the men who’ve caught you between them with their words and their love and their touch. You’re Tommy’s wife. Yet here you are with Joel. Again. In your and Tommy’s house. And Joel’s hand on you, and on your finger is Tommy’s ring—Joel’s ring--TOMMY—

It’s too much. Everything is closing around you, your lungs suffocating themselves under the pressure that you caused by seeking him out. Finding him and putting yourself in this exact situation ever. Single. Time.

You yank the door again, desperate to escape, but Joel doesn’t budge. He refuses to let you walk away from the conversation. From him.

“You didn’t deny it,” he reminds you. he pulls your reluctant focus to him again. “Just say it: Tell me you want me. Tell me you lo—”

“I don’t.” You declare rigidly. Its too far. No, no, no,nonoNO. You expel those thoughts, his words, quick to cast them out before letting them enter your system. The next words rush out of your mouth with a deep ache seized in the pit of your stomach: “You’re just a good fuck.”

The air is thin around you. Something has dropped, a pin, a dime, a fucking boulder, between the two of you. Joel grits his teeth and removes his hand from the door, backing away from you with a scowl. He pulls it the knob open harshly and brushes past you quickly, not even taking a moment to check if anyone was nearby to see you emerging from the bathroom too.

He grabs his jacket and strides towards the living room. You can make out the commotion behind the wall; Sarah is having her own philosophy course to her personal audience, asking, "Whats the point of having so many candles if you can only make one wish!?"

Joel grabs her hand and dismisses them quickly. Her sad cries echo into the hall: “But why! It’s too early!”

Joel’s stern voice echoes in the hall as they make their way across the entryway. “Because I said so. I’ve got work tomorrow. We’re leaving.”

She continues to complain, but Joel doesn’t have any heart to continue their conversation. Ushering her out of the house and slamming the front door behind them.

You stare at the door, having not moved from your place.

The carpet beneath your socked-feet feels too shaggy. I hated this carpet. Its too fucking much for fucking Texas and every god damn person who sees it here.

You flinch when Tommy’s hand creeps along your belly. Disgusting your sniffle as a cough and wiping your nose. You worry he noticed, but he doesn’t do anything to push the matter further. “What’s up with him?”

You huff an annoyed sigh. “I don’t fucking know. He’s your brother. Just Leave me the fuck alone.”

Tommy observes your face momentarily, the way you avoid his eyes. He pulls away. “I’m gonna let this one slide as a pregnancy hormonal thing,” he says lowly, a cold soberness to his tone. “Then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya so much lately. Or not. I’ll let you decide.”

You cover your face with your hands, sinful hands that feel like dry leather and charred ashes. Hands that don’t feel like your own anymore.

It would be better if Tommy just walked away. So you can simmer in your guilt and pain, like any cheating wife would. Like a sensible man who doesn’t take that shit from his wife, no matter what her personal problems are. From a woman who’s secretly jeopardizing their marriage for… what exactly?

You wanted more…but…what did you want more of?

Instead, Tommy feels his lips quiver slightly. He brings your head to his chest, smothering you in his scent and his embrace, his love and comfort.

Your insides break down in a flood. Tears and hiccups suffocate you as you wrap your arms around your husband and sob into his denim jacket, the one you just gave him this morning as his first birthday gift from his new wife.

Tommy’s never pushed you for anything. Maybe to his own detriment.

Deep down, you suspect, he knows it too.

Instead, he just holds you, swaying back and forth with gentle ‘shhh’ into your forehead. Never once faltering on the stretch of his hug, his arms holding you up and against him like a seatbelt built for a lifetime.

You feel like you just drove the car off a cliff.

Series Taglist: @yawnetu @tearfallpixie @morgaussy @whirlwindrider29 @merci-killing @604to647 @robertpattins0nswh0re

- - - -

Finale poll: Who are you Rooting for?

Permanent Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

275 notes · View notes

strawbsj · 4 days

Text

G!p stepmom Yujin x fem!reader

Part one , part two

Request!

Warnings: cheating (ughhhh), slight baby trapping, wlw marriage, almost got caught, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), age gap, backshots, rough penetration, not proofread, p in v, slight manipulation, basically porn with plot, make out session, nasty sex and just filthy smut!!😮‍💨

Word count: 1,4k

After the previous event that happened between you and Yujin, You both started fucking like rabbits. She taught you new things, how to suck her the way she likes it, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, cockwarming, basically a whole 101.

It was crazy how fast you learned how to please her and even crazier how your cunt was as tight as before at the way she fucked you, maybe even tighter.

There was few times where she used a condom, and there was also few times where she was raw hammering her tip against your cervix, but then she would deprive you from her creamy essence. Cumming on your back and chest. The only time she filled you up was on the first fuck-session with her, and you felt like on cloud 9.

You wished she would just toss away that rubber material, and just abuse your pussy with her big cock and fill you up. But she seemed so enthusiastic to use that useless roll up thing.

You knew that she is your stepmom and that she literally is married to your mother so she obviously just wants a fast fuck session till her wife comes back and then she would forget about you. What you didn’t know however was that she was as desperate as you, to throw that rubber material away.

She just thought that you are still young and that you probably don’t want to start overthinking about the risk of you getting pregnant with her child. So it was just something she had to accept, even tho feeling your spongy walls squeeze around her raw cock would drive her insane and make her cum three times faster, but she had to accept your wish that you didn’t even verbalize.

You had to take matters into your own hand, you went to her bedside table and opened the drawer. You took the two packs of condoms and went out to throw them in the street trash so she definitely won’t find them anywhere. You already stopped taking your birth control so that’s done and now you got rid of the condom packs so everything is under your control.

It wasn’t long till Yujin came back from work. She stepped inside the apartment and saw you on the couch laying comfortably. Your eyes traveled to her form, she looked breathtaking, a layer of sweat on her forehead, her other hand holding her black leather bag, the first two buttons unbuttoned while her was hanging loose.

You just wanted to suck the life out of her, take her balls into your mouth while the head of her cock was shoved down your throat, making her beg for more and gasp for air, but that was other days plan. Now you just wanted her buried deep inside you, spilling her cum inside your womb.

She walked towards the couch, sinking down on the space left, before searching for your face to pepper you with kisses. Her lips danced against yours, she pulled you onto her lap, you now straddling her. Your one hand was wrapped around her throat while the other cupping her face. Her hands were on the lower of your back. Massaging the area slowly.

It didn’t take long till the kiss got sloppy and messy, her saliva and your saliva drooling down your chin. To some people this was nasty and disgusting, but the both of you loved every second of it.

Yujin couldn’t say that she was dissatisfied with her bed life with your mother, but she definitely wasn’t satisfied either. Your mom hitting her way too often with ‘we are too old for this!’ And sticking with the boring same routine. She lost her mind over you, you were something so pure, ready to get ruined by her, all of your firsts with her,youthful, ready to experience new things, be freaky and wild. She hated the sentence we are too old, because she wasn’t old, and besides your mom was about 11 years older than her. She was about ten years older than you,not the craziest age gap but not the most common either.

Yujin wrapped her arms around your inner thighs before lifting you up and standing to walk towards the bedroom. She laid you down on the bed before opening the drawer, her expression turned from lust to annoyance pretty fast. She let out a loud growl, looking down at her hard on then back at you.

The condoms were not there so she had to go and buy them, and what shop is open at this time? Your eyes met hers, and you slid the already lose tie off her neck and started unbuttoning her blouse. She stopped your hands from continuing “We ran out of condoms and no shop is open now.” She felt bad for denying you but she wasn’t risking it. Her dick could wait till tomorrow.

“We don’t need one!” You smiled seductively before spitting out in a sultry tone. You yanked her hand away before continuing to unbutton her blouse. She looked back at you like you grew two heads.

“Are you sure? We can wait till tomorrow.” She reassured you, hoping that you are not feeling pressured to do anything. All of these thoughts were wiped once you lightly squeezed her hard on. A husky groan fell from her lips, her head thrown back. She tossed the last piece of clothing before ripping off the black silky night gown off you. The violated material now on the floor.

She took a grasp of your hips and flipped you over, face down ass up. Her bare cock having contact with your slick panties, she rubbed her angry red tip on the fabric, resulting more precum to spill out and more of your wetness to gush out.

With one motion your panties were next to the ripped night gown. She smeared her precum all over your slit, before pushing inside your velvety walls. A loud moan escaped your vocal cords. Your hands were gripping the sheets for dear life.

She started thrusting herself inside you roughly, hitting the sweet spongy spot inside you over and over. A ring of your wetness increasing with every thrust on her base.

She gripped your hip bone harshly, her nails piercing through your skin. While the bed rocked with every thrust of her hip.

Your ass jiggled with every movement, skin slapping sounds were echoing through the walls. While you fucked yourself back on her.

Your hips meeting each other and a loud stinging slap was landed on your ass cheek. You let out a whimper. Her hips actions were stopped at the ringing sound of her phone, and tears formed in your eyes while she let out another annoyed groan the same she let out earlier.

She picked her phone only to see that it was your mom, a rush of excitement flood through her before whispering next to your ear.

“It’s your mom, be quiet for me princess, yeah?”

You nodded hastily, putting a hand over your mouth to make sure you won’t let out a sound.

“Hi baby, everything good over there?” Yujin said in the most sickely sweet way ever, acting like she isn’t fucking her wifes daughter.

“Yeah, love. Just wanted to ask how you and y/n are doing, is everything ok?”

“Me and y/n are doing amazing, miss you so much!!” Yujin started rubbing her tip on your cervix. Why are you this quiet?? Isn’t she fucking you good enough?? She yanked your hair, a gasp came out from you. She wrapped a hand around your throat, forcing you to lay your head on her shoulder. Moans were threatening to come out from you at the way she was so soundlessly pounding your aching pussy. You weren’t paying attention to the conversation, the only thing on your mind was her hips thrusting in you.

She spit on your neck before licking a stripe up, you let out a whine. She bid her last goodbyes to your mother before hanging up. Her relentless pace was back on, her mouth was nibbling on the sensitive skin of your neck.

The pleasure was unbearable and overwhelming and with that your watery substance tried push her cock out. The clench of your pussy sent her over the edge and she spilled her seed deep inside your womb. A satisfied moan came out from your lips. Deep slumber took over the both of you.

#ahn yujin smut #ahn yujin x fem reader #ahn yujin x reader #ahn yujin #ive smut #ive ahn yujin smut #ive x fem reader #ive yujin smut #ive x reader #ive yujin #ive yujin x reader #yujin smut #yujin x reader #yujin x fem reader #yujin #ive

204 notes · View notes

moon-rivr · 9 months

Text

eres mía

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

warnings: arranged marriage, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral (f and m receiving), miguel calling you a slut (affectionately LOL), and just overall smut

author’s note: hi :) so this is my first time writing smut/fanfic, so it’s probably not that good lol 🫣 but anyways hope you enjoy. i got this idea from listening to ‘eres mía’ by romeo santos, i’ll leave it down below if you wanna listen 🫡

word count: 2372

"Por favor no te cases con él!" [please don't get married to him!]

—

A voice you haven't heard in three months, four days, and nine hours (not that you've been counting or anything) echoed through the chapel, muffling the sounds of the wedding bells ringing. His voice. You stopped in your tracks, knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the bouquet, feeling everyone's stares go from you to the man who was here to stop your wedding. You turned to meet his gaze, seeing how devastatingly handsome he looked in a black suit, his red eyes boring into yours.

The last time you'd seen Miguel O'Hara was when you had been at his apartment, breaking up with him. You'd spent the day at his apartment, going from watching 'Teresa' to cuddling on the couch. He was standing over the stove, checking that the pozole wasn't burning when you came up to him, asking to talk.

"What do you wanna talk about, chiquita hermosa?" [pretty little one]

"I think we should break up, this isn't working out for us anymore."

"Is this you or your mother talking?"

The question made you stop talking, tears collecting in your eyes as you looked down in shame. "You know what's expected of me, Miguel," you murmured, looking up at him through tear stricken eyes. "I do know what's expected of you, but that doesn't mean I agree with you marrying some stranger just because of the business boost," he said, grabbing your chin to look up at you as he wiped the tears away. "I'm sorry Mig, pero tengo que hacer lo que me piden," [but i have to do what they ask from me] you spoke up a couple seconds later, noting the way his brows furrowed as you spoke. "Espero que seas feliz, corazón. Nunca amaré a alguien como te amo a ti," [I hope you're happy, sweetheart. I'll never love anyone the way I love you] he whispered, kissing your forehead and keeping you in his embrace for just a couple seconds more.

Wedding arrangements were quickly made after you told your mother that you finally ended things with Miguel, from going to get the dress fitted to getting a venue booked for a fall wedding. You'd managed to catch a break a week before your wedding and decided to go out with your friend bar-hopping since your soon-to-be husband was out of the country again.

"So tell me again why you're planning on marrying this piece of shit if it's clear as day he's cheating on you?" your friend, Percy, asked as she took a sip from her margarita, her brows furrowed. "I mean, in his defense, we don't actually expect to fall in love y'know? plus, it's for business purposes and whatever," you tried your best to explain but the situation sounded stupid even to you. "I get that you want to make your parents happy with this marriage/business deal, but what about your own happiness? Is it really worth it to be in a loveless marriage just so your dad's happy?" she asked, her hands on top of yours as worry etched on to her features. You'd decided to change the conversation to a safer topic, because you were aware that deep down, she and Miguel were right.

And now you were here, standing in between the love of your life and the man that was pre planned for you to marry. Before you had a chance to say anything though, your mom quickly tugged you to the side, steam practically coming out of her ears. "Yo pensé que ya no estabas con ese muchacho! ¿Qué esta haciendo aquí?!" [ I thought you weren't with that boy anymore! What is he doing here?] your mom asked as she avoided the gazes from all the tias murmuring amongst themselves. "Yo no estoy con él! Yo no sé que hace aqui," [I'm not with him! I don't know what he's doing here] you tried to explain yourself as your mom paced around the hallway, shaking her head. "Do you know the amount of shame you've brought into this family with his little stunt? Your father gave you everything just for you to turn out to be a disappointment!" she screamed, standing a couple feet from you as she tugged at the roots of her hair, "Ve adentro y dile a ese bueno para nada que se vaya!" [go inside and tell that no good to leave]

You walked inside once more, walking all the way to the altar as the word 'disappointment' rang in your head. You quickly realized that even if you did this, it wouldn't give you the love that you wanted from your parents or the love that Miguel had given you once upon a time. You'd craved that love from your parents for so long, that you were willing to set yourself as a transactional token. As your fiancé decided to start reciting the vows he'd gotten off Google, you decided to speak up. "I'm sorry but I can't get married to this man. And I'm sorry to everyone for wasting your time."

You heard the mumbling that was building up in the chapel get louder as you stepped outside, full blown yelling coming from your mom. You looked over to the side, seeing Miguel sitting there with his hands in between his knees. "Hey, is this seat taken?" you asked, tapping his shoulder as he scooted over, looking at you with a smile.

"¿Qué paso, chiquita?" [what happened, little one?]

"I realized that despite all this, my parents still won't love me, so might as well chase my own happiness."

"Perdon por arruinarte la boda, pero es que no podía verte infeliz con ese tipo." [sorry for ruining your wedding, but I couldn't stand seeing you unhappy with that guy]

"I'll admit, it was kind of a big entrance, but I liked it. Thank you Miguelito, for fighting for us even if I haven't done the same."

"You're someone worth fighting for, mi cielito lindo. [pretty sweetheart] Even if your parents haven't shown you that."

"Hey Miguel?"

"¿Sí?" [yes?]

"Take me home."

Miguel carried you bridal style into the apartment you were so familiar with, dropping you carefully on the bed. "Espera te cierro los ojos que quiero intentar algo," he whispered into your ear once he placed you down, putting a blindfold on you. [hold on I'm gonna close your eyes, I want to try something] A couple seconds of Miguel humming to himself later, he took off the blindfold to reveal small candles lit around the room. "I know it's not the honeymoon you wanted but I hope it's still good," he said, rubbing the back of his head as he sat down on the bed next to you. "Esta perfecto, Miguel. Solo te necesito a ti," you reassured him, placing your hand on top of his. [it's perfect Miguel. I only need you]

He got on his knees, pulling your legs to drape over his shoulders as he kissed up your legs, his fangs gently grazing on the skin. He took his time kissing up your legs, kissing gently on your inner thighs, laughing silently as he ignored the way you squirmed to get your pussy closer to his face. He pressed a small kiss on the front of your panties, taking them off with his teeth, sliding them down your legs slowly. He tentatively licked your folds before delving in, his tongue plunging into your hole with no warning. You let out a moan, fingers flying to intertwine themselves in his hair as he continued to make out with your pussy.

Miguel sucked on your clit, circling his tongue around the bud as his finger plunged inside of you, instantly finding the spot that had you curling your toes and gripping his hair tighter. His tongue and fingers switched places a couple seconds later, his mouth exploring every inch of your spongy walls as his thumb rubbed your clit, basking in every single one of your moans. "Miguel, i'm about to-" you managed to say before you came all over his tongue, your hand limp against his hair. He sucked on your pussy, looking up at you as his mouth glistened from your juices. He leaned in, giving you a passionate kiss as he intertwined his hand in your hair.

You discarded of your wedding dress, leaving you in that white, almost angelic looking, white lacy bra and a garter, getting on your knees in front of Miguel. His claws ripped your bra apart, throwing it to the side as he bent down to take care of the garter on your legs. You kissed his tip, leaving small kisses down the shaft before you took his tip in your mouth. You started to slowly swirl your tongue around his tip, taking in his every moan and breathy gasp, his hands moving to both sides of your head. You take more of him in your mouth, looking up at him, his eyes meeting yours.

"Ay nena. [baby] Such a good little cocksucker for me," he moaned out, his hand caressing your cheek. You felt you felt your pussy clench around nothing as he praised you, calling you 'his good cocksleeve' and 'his pretty little slut'. "Let me fuck your face, princesa dulce," he told you, more as a warning than a question. [sweet princess] You stuck your tongue out flat as he started to thrust slowly into your mouth, wiping away the tears that were rolling down. "Que puta tan bonita," he moaned, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he started to slip in and out of your mouth faster. [what a pretty whore/slut] Your tongue glided across the shaft as he thrusted inside your mouth, his cum shooting deep into your throat. You stuck your tongue out after you swallowed it, watching him lean down and kiss you.

He slid inside of you slowly, feeling your walls clamp around his cock like a vice, his lips kissing your chest as he murmured sweet nothings into your skin. "You're doing so well for me, sweet girl," he whispered, sliding another deliciously painful inch inside, your hands gripping his back as he did so. He slowly retracted, trying to make the accommodation easier for you, before sliding in once more. He continued with the slow thrusts, your pussy eventually opening up to accommodate his length. He started speeding up, his hips slapping against your ass, his lips letting out small whimpers as he kissed your stomach. "Que puta tan hermosa que eres. Y solo para mi," he moaned, his lips moving to kiss your neck, his fangs digging in. [what a pretty whore you are. and just for me] "Solo para ti," you affirmed, your hips moving to meet his thrusts to the best of your ability as your hands raked down his back, marking him as yours. [just for you] You felt the all too familiar coil tightening in your lower stomach as your pussy walls tightened around his cock, your hands gripping on his shoulders. "Come for me, mi reina," he moaned, thrusting in deeply as his thumb circled around your clit, the action making you clench around him tightly before releasing. [my queen]

He flipped you over, massaging your ass before dipping a finger in your pussy, licking your juices and letting out a low moan. "Taste so good," he whispered before he slipped his cock inside you once more, his hands grabbing onto your hips. Your previous orgasm allowed him to slip in with ease, your pussy walls engulfing his cock. He started thrusting faster after he made sure that you weren't feeling too much pain, the only sounds in the room being skin slapping and your combined moaning. He lifted his hand up, slapping your ass before grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pulling your back to his chest as he littered kisses on your shoulder. He wanted to mark himself on your body, as his way to make sure you wouldn't leave him again. He thrusted deeper, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix, watching as you writhed and moaned underneath him.

You gripped the bedsheets, your mouth in a 'o' shape as you felt your incoming orgasm, your pussy walls clamping around him like a vice. "I'm almost there," he moaned out, his hands gripping your hips tightly as his thrusts started to get sloppier. You moved your hips against his, your orgasm coming in waves as you clenched around him tightly. "Squeezing me so good, mama," his voice came out breathier than expected as he continued moving against you, his orgasm coming moments after. He pulled his softening cock out, plunging two fingers in you to stuff the cum back inside.

Miguel got up from the bed a couple minutes after you two cuddled, walking over to the bathroom and turning on the faucet. He walked over to you once more, brushing the hair out of your face as he smiled, kissing your forehead. "The bath's almost ready," he said, grabbing you up from the bed and carrying to the bathroom. He'd poured in your favorite scented bath bomb and grabbed some of the candles from the bedroom, placing them on the counter with the lights dimmed. He set you down on the bath before sitting behind you, his hands gently rubbing circles on your back.

He left small kisses on your neck as his hands moved to give your back and shoulders a small massage. "I missed you," he sighed, turning you to look at him, a look of longing on his face. "I'm sorry for everything, for picking my family over you," you whispered, a small tear drop falling, his finger wiping it off your cheek. "Lo importante es que ya estas conmigo, cariño," he whispered reassuringly, lifting your chin up to kiss you, pulling away a couple seconds later, saying, "Porque te quería preguntar ¿que si te puedes casar conmigo?" [the important thing is that you're finally with me, sweetheart/because i wanted to ask if you would marry me]

#moon-rivr #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara spiderverse #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman atsv #spiderman smut

539 notes · View notes

rveyjules · 8 months

Text

A Second Chance

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Prime Minister's Daughter! Reader (ft. Ada Wong)

Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst

Warning: cheating, Leon is obsessed with the reader, taking photos, the reader is cold but deep inside she’s a sweetheart, mentions of arranged marriage, pure smut (masturbation, foreplay, kissing, breasts fondling and sucking, markings, p in v intercourse, virgin sex, penetrative sex, Leon is huge [I think it's at least 9 inches, sheesh], creampie, aftercare)

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: As the eldest daughter of the Prime Minister and one of the faces of the family, you received multiple assassination attempts. So, your father hired someone to keep an eye on you. And to your surprise, out of all people, it was Leon Kennedy your father picked for you. You and Leon had a secret relationship but soon did not last because another woman came into his life. Now that the both of you meet again, will it be the start of chaos or a continuation of romance?

author's note: This is the second part of my story. This story is entirely fictional. I do not know what the President and the Prime Minister exactly do for the country. Same with the occupation of being a prosecutor and the chief of the CIA. English is not my mother tongue so pardon if you encounter mistakes and grammatical errors. This is only for entertainment purposes only. And minors, please do your homework first.

—

“The jury found the defendant guilty.”

Joyful sounds were heard from your client, who was the victim, and from her family. You closed your eyes and a sigh of relief escaped your mouth, smiling at your performance today. You just won another trial. The suspect is proven guilty with the evidence you have against him and the jury was on your side.

“The jury is thanked and excused. The court is adjourned.”

You turned to your female client. She’s a 22-year-old who was a victim of rape and sexual assault. You promised her that you will do your best to give her the justice she was longing for after being made fun of by her schoolmates, calling her such names, giving her judgemental looks, and earning a lot of hurtful words.

It has come to the point where she almost took her own life on the rooftop of the apartment she was staying at. Being a victim of rape is traumatizing. It would take time before you recovered completely from what happened by going under rehabilitation and psychological observation. But today, justice is served.

“Thank you so much, prosecutor!” Her mom shakes my hand repeatedly. You can’t count how many times her family expressed their gratitude for helping the child. You giggled and patted the mother’s shoulder. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you hired me as your lawyer. By the way, how was your rehabilitation?” You asked the last part, looking at your client. She has a smile on her face, brighter than the times we met before the trial and you just realized how pretty the child is.

“It’s all nice and okay. Prosecutor,” She took a few steps ahead towards you and held your hand. “I don’t know how to express my feelings in court. Our opponent came from a prestigious family in the town. I am afraid that we will not win because of how powerful their family is. I think I underestimated you a little and I’m sorry for that. I see how focused you were in every trial session. And now that it was confirmed that he was the bad guy, I felt so happy. So, thank you so much, Prosecutor L/n.”

You smiled at her and cupped her cheeks. “You’re a law student, right? I want to give you some advice that can help you when you become an attorney one day,” I paused. “I considered going into law. Not because of money, but for the thrill of problem-solving. And always remember, be an independent woman. You are what you are. Face them with your head high. Justice is served and the suspect is proven guilty.”

The girl nodded and gave you a tight hug. “I hope we will meet again in the future, attorney.” You nodded your head and hugged her back. “I’m looking forward to it, dear.”

From a distance, Leon watched how you comforted a girl after winning a nerve-wracking and intense trial in the court just now. He crossed his arms and smiled, seeing you being warm around your client. Leon received a voicemail from his earpiece,

“Agent Kennedy, the Prime Minister, scheduled a meeting with Prosecutor L/n.”

“Copy,” He replied before approaching you.

The mother of your client acknowledged his presence as Leon made his way toward you. The older woman smiled at him before looking back at you and asked something unexpected…

“Is he your husband? You two look great together.”

Your eyes widened and immediately denied it. “No, we’re not. He’s not my husband. I’m still single.” You awkwardly replied. Leon was taken aback by the woman’s question and quite affected when you quickly denied the woman’s question. He felt butterflies in his stomach at the thought of you being his wife.

“Sorry for misunderstanding but he’s only my bodyguard. He’s only with me for safety purposes.” You explain, smiling to ease the uncomfortable feeling you have. The woman nodded in understanding.

“You’re too pretty to not be in a relationship but I respect your decision if you’re not into relationships.” She smiled and you thanked her for understanding. When your client and her family have left, you turn to Leon and shoot him a death glare.

“Seriously? You as my husband? Hell, no.” You sharply claimed. Leon cleared his throat and replied, “I just want to say that the Prime Minister scheduled a meeting with you.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“When you received a voicemail, I received a text message from the Prime Minister. At least you should have waited for my client to leave before popping out of nowhere only to be misunderstood as my husband.” You snarled. Leon finds you cute, though.

“Bet you feel the butterflies in your stomach, don’t you?” He asked flirtatiously, making you scoff.

“Butterflies,” You scoffed and chuckled sarcastically. “I got headaches.” With that, you walked past him to the exit.

—

“Papa, you know I don’t want to be in a relationship. How many times do I need to tell you that? I don’t even want to go on a date, why are they trying to put me up in an arranged marriage?!” You snapped, rubbing your temples.

The meeting your father scheduled is private and personal. Right now, in front of your parents and the Senator’s son that was supposed to be your husband in this arranged marriage, looked at you in disbelief. You declared your plan in life and that is you’re not going to get married to anyone.

“Y/n!” Your father yelled angrily. “For our family’s sake! Senator Carter’s son is the right man for you! You know that this man has the potential to become a President in the future! I want you to become the First Lady of this country.”

“But being a First Lady has limitations, Papa! And also, it will only give me more responsibilities!” You retorted back.

“You’re already thirty-three, Y/n. A perfect age to prepare yourself—”

“I am not interested in becoming a First Lady,” You interrupted. "Besides, I am not into politicians. Helping the government is enough for me but marrying a politician? No."

With that, you grabbed your bag and walked out of the room, leaving your parents disappointed and frustrated. You can hear your dad calling out your name but you did not turn back. Tears filled your eyes, and you couldn't bear the fact that your parents are forcing you to marry someone you don't love.

Leon noticed your expression and he knew something was wrong. "Y/n, what happened in–" He was interrupted when you snapped at him, “Shut up! This is all your fault!”

He was startled and the guards that were securing the area looked in your direction. Tears started falling down your eyes, and couldn't bear the pain. “This is all your fault.” You whispered before storming out of the establishment.

You get the keys from your driver and ride the car before driving on your own. You sobbed as you sped up on the highway but were still aware of the speed limit. You want some time alone. Betrayals, family pressure, arranged marriage… Goddamned it, why can’t you be free from this? The trauma of your past relationship with Leon did a lot of damage. You run your hand on top of your head, calming yourself down.

—

In your house, you are checking the report of the CIA. There are files that must go under your consent so you have a lot of papers to sign. It’s not new for you anymore. Being a prosecutor, a superior of a top security agency, as well as being a politician’s daughter has its pros and cons. When it comes to wealth and fame, you got the jackpot. But when it comes to responsibility…

“Goddamn, I need a vacation.” You sighed as you signed the last file and put them organized on the shelf.

And then, Leon popped into your mind out of nowhere. He has been working under you for three months now. You are secretly doing everything to make him leave. You mean it when you say you don’t need him anymore. But there are times where Leon would be so caring of you. He’d hold your hand secretly when the two of you are close to each other in crowded places. He’d take off his jacket and put it on your shoulders when he saw you shivering. Although you are cold and dismissive to him, he’s still caring for you and his love language was still the same as before.

Turning your heel, you went to the window and watched the city lights of Washington D.C. You want to take a break. You want to sleep all day,knowing that you deserved it for doing a great job. But you simply can’t. Even falling asleep in your room is sometimes difficult, especially when you feel something is not right. The President needs you to be active 24/7. The White House could call you anytime when an emergency occurs. Even if it was two in the morning, you need to get up and meet the President and cabinet secretaries.

You are so powerful that’s why there are people who tried to kill you. Imagine, surviving five assassination attempts. You may be looking cool but deep inside you are scared. Those moments where you were stunned when the assassin pulled the trigger of his gun and you barely dodge them. It makes you feel like a child, being scared when you are supposed to be brave.

Taking off your gloves, you looked at your scars and caressed them. You thought the pain was gone, thinking that your scars symbolizes your bravery despite being left out. But everythings is coming back ever since Leon came back. With that you remembered how you struggled just to survive.

Three days after Leon left with Ada, you almost lost your sanity thinking that surviving the apocalypse is impossible. You have no one to lean on. You barely make it to find an abandoned store with foods and drinks that can ease your thirst and hunger. The city was filled with zombies. Finding a safe place to stay is difficult. The device you used to track Ada’s identity was broken. It was your only hope to contact your father.

Every day, you’d cry while washing your wounds on your wrists to prevent contamination and easier access for infection. Being alone and desperate to survive scared you the most. You are asking yourself what you ever did to them to leave you in this state. As for your relationship with Leon, thinking about those times when you caught him with Ada, doing the unthinkable emotionally damaged you.

“Leon– ahh!” Ada moaned as Leon pressed his half naked body to her, sucking her neck and leaving marks on her skin. “Y/n would get suspicious where did I get this,” Ada said but Leon didn’t budge.

Instead, he lifted the skirt of her dress and pulled her underwear out of her legs before undoing his pants and taking his member out of its cage. “Just be quiet. She wouldn’t know that we’re doing this.” He smirked before slipping his hardened cock into Ada’s aching hole.

They tried to be quiet to hide their secret affair while you were standing by the door, sobbing quietly. You heard how Ada moaned and praised Leon at how good he makes her feel. And then there was you, heart shattered into pieces. You felt numb and couldn’t feel or hear anything aside from the sinful sounds coming from them.

That piece of memory made you punch the mirror in front of you, breaking it. Your knuckles started to bleed. You covered your ears as you fell on your knees, traumatized and heartbroken. You knew that things would go wrong between you and Leon. But this is beyond your expectation. Never in your life you thought that he would do that.

One day, you found a radio in the establishment where you are currently staying. It was functioning and you heard voices coming from the radio. You realized that it can connect to a military base. You grabbed it and spoke to the speaker. It says that the government will bomb the city to stop the virus from spreading. Hearing this increased your fear. You don’t want to die with these monsters.

“Is this the military? Please, help me. I’m a survivor.” You said, hoping that they will hear your voice.

After a few seconds of silence, the voice on the other line spoke. “This is Commander Valdez speaking. Please, state your name and current location.” Your hope was growing as the commander replied.

“My name is Y/n L/n, daughter of Senator L/n. I’m a first year college student, studying Law. I am in a safe room of the high-rise hospital in Raccoon City. Please, help me. Zombies are surrounding the area.” You sobbed.

Hearing that you are the daughter of the Senate President caused the Commander to order to gather up his men and prepare to rescue you and also ordered the President to refrain from releasing an order to wipe out Raccoon City until you are completely rescued.

“Miss L/n, listen carefully to my instructions. My men will be there in less than an hour. Now, I want you to prepare yourself to fight against the horde of zombies. The President has moved the time of releasing the bomb. They will nuke the city after we rescue you. I know you have limited resources to use as your weapon but I hope you can find some to defend yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The military is on its way. Go to the rooftop of the hospital. The military chopper will come to rescue you. Goodluck.” Then your conversation ended.

This is your last chance. You must make it out of this damned city. You went to the bathroom of the safe room and looked at yourself through the mirror. You washed your face to make up your mind and covered your injuries with a clean cloth. You wear your jacket and luckily found a baseball bat as your weapon. With a deep breath, you gathered all your strength and prepared yourself for a life-or-death fight against those monsters.

You walked out of the safe room quietly to prevent attracting the attention of the zombies. You held your weapon tightly, alert for any zombies to come to your way. You are currently on the 20th floor of the hospital. The rooftop is on the 25th floor. Of course, as you expected, zombies found you and chased after you. You run for your life, hitting those zombies who will try to grab you or block your path with a baseball bat.

Anger was rushing through your veins that you went on a killing spree with a single weapon. You looked out the window as you ran and found the helicopter coming to the hospital you are in. This increased your hopes in survival. Little by little, you made it to the rooftop. You closed and blocked the door with anything that you think can prevent those zombies opening the door.

The helicopter has found you from a far distance. You waved your hands in the air as you jumped to gain their attention. But the zombies managed to break in and it found you. You turned around and fear creeped out to your veins. A large horde of zombies are coming towards you. Then, you heard loud gunshots coming from the soldiers, shooting the zombies as the helicopter moved downwards on the edge of the rooftop.

“Miss Y/n! Hop on!” A soldier yelled through the loud sound of the propeller.

You ran towards them and jumped to the helicopter, feeling a little relieved to be rescued. The helicopter started to move away as the zombies were falling down from the building, mindlessly trying to reach for us. The soldiers check on you to see if you are bitten. The pilot spoke through the radio.

“General, Y/n L/n is successfully rescued from the Raccoon City. She’s not bitten or infected, just some injuries that need medical attention. Aside from that, everything is cleared.”

“Roger that,” You heard the military general replied through the radio.

After a few moments, when you are far enough from the city, you hear a loud, roaring, and huge explosion. You looked out and saw an atomic bomb explosion, destroying Raccoon City. You saw how wide the bomb reached to kill those who were alive or undead. You survived the chaos on your own. You make it out of the forsaken city. You are the last man standing. The city where Leon promised you that you build your dreams and goals has been wiped out into ashes.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you caress your scars. For everyone who barely knows you, wearing gloves is your trademark in fashion. People never see you take them off or go out without gloves on. But your family and other important people in your life know what’s behind that piece of clothing. It’s not like you were ashamed of it. It’s just that it hurts you emotionally as you remembered that you went under hard and difficult circumstances just to survive as those people you helped betrayed and left you to die.

Your phone opened and rang, snapping you back to your senses. You turned around and grabbed your phone. It’s a call from your older brother, Judge Dylan L/n. You picked up the call and put the phone next to your ear.

“Dylan? What can I do for you?” You asked.

“Y/n, Papa called me just now. What was that behavior?” He asked calmly but there’s a lingering strict tone.

“If you’ll scold me, I’ll hang up.” You scoffed.

“Y/n, you are the only daughter of the Prime Minister of the country and has the potential to become a First Lady.”

“I know that. Among the Prime Minister’s five children, I am the youngest and the only daughter. But that doesn’t mean that I need to go under his order to marry a politician.”

“But the boy is the son of the Senate President.”

“Dylan, please. Don’t make yourself a problem for me. He didn’t even congratulate me for winning my case today. He just called a private meeting only to say that I am bound to marry the man and ended up scolding.”

“Patience is a virtue, Y/n,” Dylan paused. “I know that your past relationship still affects you. But in this case, you are just proving to them that you haven’t moved on from your ex-lover. Y/n, it’s been fifteen years…”

You sighed, heading over the table to pour yourself a glass of wine.

“Please, believe me when I say that I truly moved on from my past relationship. It’s just that…” You paused, trying to find the right word to say. “The pain was coming back. You know that feeling when you believe in yourself that you are completely free but the truth is you are still chained up to the past?”

“Did you and that guy cross paths again?” He asked and you hummed.

“I don’t know if fate is fooling around with me. After fifteen years, why did he come back? I mean, I don’t want to see him or even cross paths again with him but then, one day he just appeared out of nowhere.” You explained. Your brother chuckled at your response.

“I think I know the guy you are talking about. Leon Kennedy, right? Your ex-lover but currently your bodyguard.” You pouted as his response. “If Papa knows that Leon Kennedy is your ex, what do you think he will do?” He asked.

“He will fire him immediately, probably.” You replied.

“Wrong,” Dylan quickly responded. “You and Papa never interact with each other that much, that's why you don’t know the possibility of his reaction regarding the issue.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Y/n, please. If you interact with Papa, you will find the answer. That’s all for now. I have to prepare for my trial tomorrow. I just called to check on you.”

You bid goodbye to each other before ending the call. You received another phone call from the Senate President’s son. You picked the call…

“Let’s have a drink. The usual place.” He said.

—

Leon can still hear how loud you were when you snapped at him earlier. He can tell that your meeting with your family did not end well. The way your eyes teared up when you yelled at him, gaining the attention of the people who were in the area at that time. Leon gulped down another glass of whiskey, slightly wincing at how strong the alcohol is as he ran his thumb against your photo, which he secretly took throughout the years.

Yes, he has been stalking you. After saving Ashley Graham from an insane cult in Spain, he immediately did some research on you. And there he found out about your success after leaving you in a hard situation in Raccoon City in 1998. At that time, you were a newly licensed prosecutor but you became one of the most influential prosecutors in the Supreme Court as you easily solved and won cases back then. Your father was a Senate President back then and having you beside him is a big asset. With that, your father managed to reach the position of Prime Minister.

Every event you need to attend whether it was a national or international, he was there. He camouflaged within the crowd so that you wouldn’t see him or feel his presence. He took a lot of pictures of you, keeping them in a secret room of his house. He was obsessed with you. He even finds himself masturbating in his room with your picture in his hand, looking so elegant in every angle, every outfit you wore, every look you pulled out, it drives him crazy.

For his latest mission, which was in China, he brought a dozen of your pictures as his motivation and inspiration. Weird but he did. There are times when he was in a tight situation and went through near-death experiences but he remembers that he needs to come back. For you. He encountered Ada again but this time, he was not her puppy anymore, who would follow her demands and manipulate him.

“I heard that she’s the new Chief of the CIA aside from being a prosecutor. Seems like your ex-lover has already moved on from you.” Ada smirked as she looked at the photo of you in a black dress, holding a piece of paper while speaking in court.

“Give it back,” Leon demanded. “What are you even doing here, Ada? Are you going to use me again?” He added and Ada chuckled in response. “What do you think?”

What Ada did not expect was Leon’s sudden attack. He disarmed her and took the photo out of her grasp, hissing when it was crumpled slightly. Ada noticed his unusual behavior and smirked.

“You’re obsessed with her. What is she going to think when you two meet again? What will be her reaction if she meets the one she loved the most but also the one who betrayed her?” Ada asked, trying to provoke Leon.

Leon got furious when Ada dug up the past. Without hesitation, he pulled out his gun and shot Ada in the shoulder with eyes full of anger and guilt, not for her but for you, who he left just to escape that damn city. The woman looked at him in shock. Never in a million years did she expect that Leon would do this to her. He was different from the one she used to order around. There were also times when Leon almost got down on his knees and worshiped her like a saint. But now, his eyes are filled with the flame of anger. Leon wasn’t hers anymore, but yours even without knowing it.

Five months after that mission, he was summoned to the White House by the President and they talked about the assassination attempts you had. His face remained calm but his hands were clenched into fists and his insides were burning in anger. When the President asked him if he could be your bodyguard, he immediately said yes. Your father, the Prime Minister trusted him the moment the President introduced him as a recommendation. That’s how he got into your life again.

He prepared a plan on how he was going to win your heart again. He thought it would be easy but it turns out it isn’t. You are colder than he expected. You never look at him the way you used to look at him before. It wasn’t easy to make a conversation with you as you always dismissed him. His top priority is to keep you safe away from assassination attempts you might encounter again in the future while finding a way to see a crack in your armor.

He believes that you will give in to him someday. He laid down on his bed, closing his eyes, and imagine how good it feels to be between your legs as he fucks you hard. The way you’d moan loudly or even scream, praising him for making you feel so good. You’d hold onto his shoulders as he pounds against your cunt, tip kissing your cervix that sends you crying.

His mind was filled with lewd images of you, wearing tight blouses and pencil skirts, teasing him as you walked. Your curves are perfectly fitted into the skirt and he will pounce on you and rip all of your clothing until you are completely naked under him. You and Leon never made it to take your relationship to the next level because you were just eighteen and in your first year in college back then. You two agreed that you’ll only do it when you are ready or wait until you get married. Although your relationship was a secret, you both gave pure love to each other until shit happens.

He believes that your virginity hasn’t been taken yet. For someone like you who focuses on studies and two professions as well as having trust issues, he’s sure that no one hasn’t touched or even kissed you. And the thought of taking your virginity sends him to the edge as he found himself masturbating.

“Y/n… you feel so damn good. So tight!” He moaned, imagining how tight you are when he pushed his pulsating cock inside your wet, aching, virgin pussy.

Your moans ring into his ears as he fucks you. The way you’d ask him to be gentle or be careful of you, sobbing. And the best part of it is when he spilled his warm seeds deep into your cunt. In real life, his cock spurted his juices, staining his hands and abdomen as he trembled from his orgasm, groaning as he let it out until the last drop.

No, he did not feel guilty. Why not? He’s going to take you back. Now that he heard from his co-worker that you are bound to marry the Senate President’s son. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. Not even over his dead body. If he needs to go through hell just to win your heart again, he will do it without any hesitation.

—

On the other side, you are back in the VIP Room of the bar where you usually go. You are currently with the Senate President’s son. There’s an awkward tension between the two of you. David Carter is sipping on his glass of vodka while you are drinking wine.

“Your outburst earlier is unexpected,” He chuckled, studying your expression. You glanced at him as he started the conversation. “A lot of women tried to catch my attention but then there was you.”

“Is that a compliment?” You asked, sipping on your wine and he nodded with a hum in response.

David might be quiet and did not have a chance to explain himself during your meeting yesterday but he is one of the most respected and most influential men in politics just like you. He’s a congressman with the potential to reach the highest rank in the country. That’s why your father wants him to be your husband.

“Yes. I rarely compliment a woman. You know I have a high standard when it comes to women and you passed.”

“Because this is me.” You rebutted, rolling your eyes, and smirked.

You two are good friends. You went to the same law school and passed the board exams together. When you were elected as the new Chief of the CIA, he was elected as a congressman. Coincidence? He would say no but you would say yes. David understands why you suddenly snapped at your father upon mentioning the arranged marriage. He knows that you have a trauma in love although he doesn’t know who caused you that pain to be so dismissive of love. But deep down, he wished that you would realize that he has hidden feelings towards you.

“I noticed that you are not with your personal bodyguard today. Leon Kennedy, right?” He asked, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes again.

“I don’t know. I don’t care though. That guy needs to breathe from my dark presence.” You joked.

“I’m surprised that he’s not resigning yet when you are so cold and dismissive to him. In my perspective, men who manage to stay despite your bad side are the ones who have true feelings for you.” You paused and glanced at him.

“I feel this agent knows you better than I know you. For the past three months of him being your bodyguard, I have never seen someone who's more patient than your father. I noticed that you throw your tantrums on him often but he will only look at you and give you your favorite coffee. Your former bodyguards never bring you your coffee without you telling them which one you prefer. But this agent, he will just pop out of nowhere with a cup of coffee you like. Is there something I don’t know about? Do you have connections with each other?” He added.

“Oh, David. Stop the spectacle of yourself. Agent Kennedy is nothing but only an agent who saved Ashley from Spain and is currently my bodyguard.” You retorted.

“But a bodyguard wouldn’t act so protective and caring of you. I mean, he’s crossing the line of being a bodyguard and you don’t notice. He’d protect you from the media, people who will tend to cause you discomfort, and bodyguards should keep an eye on his distance to his boss. But he will take off his jacket and put it on your shoulder like a man who cares for his lover.”

“Enough!” You snarled.

“You’re guilty because it’s true. A bodyguard shouldn’t look at his boss with stars in his eyes.” David added.

What's surprising about him, even though he has secret feelings towards you, it feels like he’s helping you regarding your issue with Leon which you never mentioned to anyone before.

“Admit it already, Y/n. You and Agent Kennedy had a thing before.”

You looked at him, speechless. David is a very observant person but he takes that to another level that's beyond your expectations. He raised his eyebrow at you while you shook your head in defeat.

“You’re right. We used to be lovers.” You admitted.

—

Leon was in his apartment across the apartment building you are in. He purchased the unit to keep an eye on you a few years ago. He knows that this is the place where you usually go to ease your mind rather than going to your own home. He brought his own telescope, not to look up in the sky but to stalk you. With his knowledge in hacking, he used to sneak into your apartment unit and set up small cameras that are difficult to see around your place to see what you are doing when you are out of his sight.

You just came back from your hang out with David. You are quite tipsy and tired after a long day. Leon watched you from his computer, your every movement is being captured by the hidden cameras he put around your apartment. You kicked off your heels and put them on the shoe rack before heading straight to your bedroom to have a nice and cool shower. Undressing yourself, Leon watched your naked figure step into the shower. The sound of water running as you hummed a song sent shivers down to his spine.

He watched how you touch yourself as you scrub yourself with soap and wash your hair with shampoos. The way the water ran down your body is something he can’t ignore, but craves. Those perfect large breasts, slim waist, and thick thighs, ugh. He badly wants to go there and fuck you already.

After thirty minutes of shower and skincare routine, you came out of your bathroom, wearing nothing but your robe and drying your hair with a towel. Leon continued watching you. He observed you as he realized that you were looking out the window, staring at the apartment building where he was currently in. He looked out too and there he found you standing, seemed to be in a deep thought. He studied your face and he believes that you’re unable to see him because his window is tinted.

But for you, you can definitely see him. Since Leon has become your bodyguard, you were even more observant of your surroundings. You've always had a feeling that someone is watching from the shadows and the moment you meet him again, your questions have been answered. Earlier, you and David had discussed this without mentioning Leon’s name.

“You know, obsessive people are usually more on body language, eye contacts, and sometimes, they use metaphorical words. They are waiting for the right time to have their way to their target. I suggest you give this man a little show. I believe you can do this easily. For a seductress like you, I think this is an easy task.” David smirks as he sips on his whiskey.

“What kind of ‘show’ are you talking about?” You asked.

“A strip show…”

You glared at him at the idea he suggested. “But be careful. Don’t let your bodyguard know about this show you are about to pull out or else you’ll receive a severe punishment from your daddy.” He chuckled.

He doesn’t know that the obsessive man you are talking about was no one but your bodyguard himself…

Sighing, you untie your robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing your perfect naked body. Leon gasped as his eyes widened in surprise about your sudden, unexpected move. You looked like a Greek Goddess that came down on Earth to seduce men and fulfill their lustful needs. You smirked before getting inside, slowly walking, naked. You grabbed your phone and played soothing, yet seductive music.

You started dancing and closed your eyes, feeling the rhythm and the melody of the music. Your hair dances in the air as you turn gracefully. Leon watches you, smiling to himself. Seeing you dance like that felt like nostalgia but way different from before. You changed from a sweet teenager into a seductress. Leon smirked, crossing his arms.

After a few minutes, you stopped dancing and went to your closet and wore a silk nightgown, gloves, and a coat. You put on your sandals, dried your hair, and put on a light shade of lipstick. You left your apartment, leaving him wondering what the hell just happened. You just gave him a little strip show, unsure if you did it on purpose or was that just some naughty habits he had never seen until now. While Leon heaves out an unsatisfied sigh, you went to the apartment building across yours to confront him already.

David is right. He crossed the line of being a bodyguard. Though he is affectionate to you when the two of you are together, you did not expect him to be this obsessive of you.

“...or just give in to his needs already if you find yourself attracted to the man. Confront him.”

You remember David gave you another advice earlier before going home. You also thought about this while taking a shower. You are aware that there’s a hidden camera around your house. Yet, you don’t feel creeped out at all as if you know who’s responsible for this. All the dots are connected and the mystery is solved the moment Leon came back and got hired as your bodyguard. The spark you felt towards this obsessive person sparked even more when it comes to Leon. It’s always him. Every question you make about this emotional stuff always leads back to him.

The ding of the elevator snapped you back to your senses as the doors opened. You stepped out of the elevator and went to Leon’s apartment unit, Unit 2704. You pressed the doorbell and waited for Leon to open the door.

He went to the front door and looked at the peephole. He was surprised to see you standing on his doorstep. He opened the door, you looked at him and he was surprised to see you.

“I need to talk to you,” You started in a stern tone.

—

To Be Continued...

666 notes · View notes

youunravelme · 11 months

Text

slowly, then all at once

author's note: i'm going through some shit and needed to alleviate it with fluff and also it's mat's birthday (or at least it was when i started this)! EDIT: this takes place in an alternative TATGYLB universe bc went an ENTIRELY different direction with this series (because i don't plan well lolol). (stole the title from the fault in our stars because that book had me in a CHOKEHOLD at 14)

pairing: mat barzal x reader

warnings: none? cursing?

summary: the stages of mat falling in love with you

mat saw how you were with ella, the way you'd smile and talk to her like she could hold a conversation. or the way you never chided him or condescended to him when he did something completely stupid.

which is more than what he could say about his teammates.

so when he heard your piece of shit boyfriend screaming at you over the phone? or when he showed up unannounced and trying to "win you back?"

mat was livid.

he was sure jason had never hit you, because if there was any indication of that, mat would be all over it.

so while he's sure jason never inflicted physical harm, he saw the way you kept to yourself and even the way you looked surprised at his invitation to lunch or the game.

it broke his heart a little, to think that you'd never once considered yourself now a part of his life. when, in fact, the second you agreed to watch ella, it was like he'd pulled you into the fold.

he was on a mission to prove it to you.

inviting you to his game was the first step in his original plan.

well.

it was the first non intimidating step. (tito mentioned that maybe meeting his mom and sister after only knowing him for like a week was not the smartest move he'd ever made.)

you still looked out of your element when he asked, but he's positive that it was his own enthusiasm that convinced you to say yes.

and he thought it was a great idea! he got you and jason tickets, thinking that maybe you'd be more comfortable with having him around. and perhaps that was true at some point, but when he saw you, standing with only ella and sydney with water lining your eyes, something in his chest twisted.

you looked shaken, like someone had stuck you in a blender.

"where's jason?" was apparently the wrong thing to ask because sydney changed the subject almost immediately.

you wouldn't even look at him.

and when you told him about your piece of shit boyfriend leaving you?

mat wasn't prepared for the burning in his chest. no one got away with treating a friend of his that way, but seeing as you just avoided the topic altogether, he dropped it.

until you went upstairs to your apartment and didn't text him. tito would say he has a habit of hovering at times and maybe he never really agreed until five minutes passed without a word from you.

if you asked, he would've denied the intense concern growing in his chest. but how else was he supposed to react when you seemed so dissociated the rest of the night?

thankfully, you picked up almost immediately.

"hello?"

mat cleared his throat. "hey, you never texted me to say you got in alright. you okay?”

now it could've only been a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime before he heard your voice.

“keep the car running, i’ll be down in a few minutes.”

mat was ready to grab ella and head upstairs, car be damned.

he couldn't hear what else really happened on the phone, he only knew that you came downstairs, empty handed, and frazzled. the sight alone had him contemplating going into your apartment to figure out exactly what was going on, but he knew the best decision was take you back to his place.

he'd figured it out when jason showed up with his daughter's car seat screaming at you for wearing his clothes. screaming at you like you were somehow in the wrong, like he wasn't the one who cheated on you.

you.

who had to be the most selfless person he knew (don't tell his mom).

you.

who had readily agreed to take care of his daughter on a whim because he was insanely scared.

you.

who was one of the only topic of conversation his mother wanted to discuss. it used to just be hockey and how he was doing. now the thirty minute phone calls turned into hour and a half long facetimes where ella and you are regular topics for discussion.

mat couldn't comprehend how someone could look at you and want to tear you down, but after you officially broke up with jason? he was determined to show you how much you deserved.

exhibit a

"it's five sugars, right?" mat called over his shoulder once he heard your footsteps coming into the kitchen.

you paused in the doorway. "what?"

mat turned around, two mugs of coffee in his hands. "you like five sugars, right?"

ella sat on your hip but didn't seem to give a flying fuck that he was in front of her.

"you--you remembered?" you tilted your head. "you only made me coffee like once?"

mat's face heated up at the implication but smirked anyway. "i have a great memory!"

"could've surprised me from the amount of times you get hit."

mat shrugged, still not completely used to the idea of you watching his games, even if they were just highlights. he held the mug out to you in exchange for ella.

"you wanna come to a game again?" he offered.

you looked at him before breaking eye contact and sipping your coffee. "i don't know if that's the best idea after last time. i don't want to embarrass you again--"

"woah woah woah," mat sat his coffee mug on the island before holding a hand up at you. it didn't sit right with him to see you so ashamed of something someone else did. "what happened at the game was not your fault. it was his, okay? you weren't to blame."

"you weren't even there to see it--"

"and i don't need to, okay? i know you." he meant it. but seeing as the conversation was getting a little too heavy, he changed the subject. "just think about it! and let me know what game you want to go to."

you didn't say anything, but just gave him a small smile and nodded.

he'd count it as a win.

exhibit b

it'd been about four months since you'd started working with mat, three months since you moved in.

not that he was counting.

there were things that were harder with having you around. mainly remembering to wear a shirt when he wakes up in the morning, or to not adjust his junk until he was in the bathroom or his bedroom.

but--

there were many more things that were significantly easier (and better) with you in his life (and apartment).

sleep training ella was easy as hell

keeping an eye on ella who was walking now

the apartment actually smelled nice? not that it smelled bad before, but now it smelled like a home.

and who knew decorative pillows made a difference?

but his favorite thing recently?

grocery shopping.

he was currently pushing ella around in a shopping cart while you scrolled on your phone through the list.

"so what do we need next?" he asked.

"if you'd give me a second, i'd have the answer for you," you snipped.

by now, mat was used to your snide comments, knowing that you were just a bit quippy when you were focused.

"ella, is your nanny being a little cranky?" he joked, ignoring the glare you were shooting his way.

you rolled your eyes and tossed a bag of bread at his head that would've hit its mark had he not had the reflexes that gave him a professional hockey career.

"excuse me?" an older woman spoke up from behind him. "as cute as your little family is, can you move out of the way? you're clogging up the aisle."

mat blinked. time froze. he'd never fully considered the implications of the three of you out in public together. but being the comment of you, him, and ella being a "little family" had his heart stopping in his chest.

"oh of course!" you spoke up and grabbed mat by the arm. the feel of your touch alone had him directing his attention to the physical contact.

he looked at you instead of the woman, watched as you mumbled to ella as you pulled all three of you out of the way. his brain went on overdrive.

god he never wanted you to let go of him ever again. he would give anything to just be able to hold onto you a little longer.

and he must've been thinking for too long because you were snapping your fingers in front of his face?

"mat? you okay? did i lose you there?" you had a cute pinch between your brows and a small frown on your face.

that wouldn't do.

so he smiled and nodded. "sorry, just thinking about something."

you.

exhibit c

you went out for the night with sydney while he hung out with tito and anders. initially, you said you'd look for a sitter to cover you, but mat laughed that suggestion off.

he didn't say it, but you were no longer a nanny to him anymore. and you deserved a night off without the stress of finding a replacement. anders and marty suggested a babysitter that he hired for the night immediately.

"are you sure you don't want me to wait until she gets here? i can help explain ella's routine!" you said.

mat rolled his eyes as he herded you towards the door. "i'll be fine, go have fun!"

you let him gently push you out of the door but turned around and looked at him. "if you need me, text me."

mat smiled. "if you need me, call me."

the babysitter arrived five minutes early which meant mat could spend that time kissing ella's cheeks and reiterating her schedule to the sitter.

he was the last person at the bar, anders and tito were already sitting in a booth, each with a beer in their hands, an extra one on the table for him (he assumed).

"didn't wanna leave ella?" anders asked.

tito scoffed. "more like he didn't wanna leave mama bear." mat rolled his eyes while anders cackled in response.

"shut up, beau."

"ah! but you didn't deny it!"

mat shook his head and took a seat in the leather booth. "what's there to deny? we're roommates and she watches ella all the time. we're friends."

tito made a noise in the back of his throat. "you and i are friends, barzy. you make goo goo eyes at her when you think no one is looking."

"no i don't."

anders piped in. "you nearly ran into me on the ice because you were staring at her wearing your jersey."

"no," he defended. "ella was making a really cute face!"

anders blinked at him before rolling his eyes. "sure, barzy."

mat grumbled under his breath and chugged half his beer.

two hours or so had passed with the three of them talking shit about other teams. anders had hinted at leaving, checking his phone just to make sure grace didn't text him. mat found himself doing the same thing to make sure the babysitter hadn't said anything, or maybe to see if you had.

tito didn't seem to give two shits about his phone. and why would he? he was the only one without kids.

they were in the middle of a conversation about the upcoming devils game when mat's phone started buzzing.

sydney martin.

mat picked up the phone, albeit a bit confused. "hello?"

"mat! hey!" sydney greeted. "are you busy?"

mat glanced at tito and anders whose brows were furrowed. "no, why what's up?" his swore his heart stopped in his chest when she said your name. "is she okay? what's wrong?"

"she's a little drunk and crying and asking for you. i don't know if you're sober enough--"

"i'm sober," he said. "only had one beer." he was already reaching for his keys in his pocket. "what's she crying about?"

sydney sighed through the phone. "we saw jason and her old roommate out at the bar tonight. he made a few comments."

mat's jaw clenched. he forced words out through his teeth. "what did he say?"

"mat--"

"no, if he said some shit, sydney, i need to know."

"no," she corrected. "what you need to do is get over here and take her home."

mat was already standing. "i'm on my way."

sydney hung up.

"everything okay?" anders asked.

"probably something to do with mama bear," tito commented.

mat sighed. "she ran into her piece of shit ex and is now inconsolable. i have to go pick her up."

anders snorted. "right. 'have to.'"

mat ignored the comment and said goodbye, already rushing out of the bar to get to you.

it was another ten minutes before he saw you, standing outside a bar with sydney. he could see your tears from the car.

mat jumped out and hurried towards you. sydney all but pushed you into his arms.

and it felt like the world made sense again. you fit perfectly in his arms, against his chest, head tucked into his neck.

"mat--" you sobbed. "i--i can't--"

he kissed the top of your head. "let's get you home, okay?"

exhibit d

ella was saying actual words now like most babies her age. mat used to look at anders, marty, and other parents a little judgmentally, he'll admit, because while babies learning to do things was incredibly cool, he didn't fully understand the hype.

until she said dada for the first time.

it damn near made him cry.

and like for all of her other milestones, you were there beside him with your phone recording the moment. you almost missed it, but you had a sixth sense for those things, figuring out when ella was going to do something incredible.

that was two weeks ago and it still never got old to hear her say his name when he came home or rounded the corner.

he'd been known as mathew, mat, barzy, barzal, gary, and a slew of other names, but dada had to be his favorite. to belong to someone who needed you so wholly was the best feeling in the world.

that and seeing you smile at him.

he'd accepted it now, there was no denying it, not after half the team was on his case about his feelings for you. and how could he not fall in love with you? you were gentle and kind and handled the shittiest situations with so much grace (he wasn't joking, he'd wanted to fight jason the second you came out of your old apartment looking like you'd seen a ghost).

you handled his friends with ease, never letting tito's teasing affect you. you handled the "mama bear" nickname with ease, even laughing at it at times.

you just made his world so much better just by existing in it.

which is why he gave you the day off while he and tito took ella around the city.

ella was fine for most of the day, though she kept glancing around.

"probably looking for mama bear," tito guessed. "i would be too if you were the one looking after me."

mat flipped him off behind ella's back. "i'm not an idiot."

"before you met mama bear, you kinda were."

he rolled his eyes. "sorry for not knowing how to take care of a baby as soon as i find out i have one. most people have nine months to prepare for the arrival of a child. ella literally showed up on my doorstep."

truth be told, he was parroting the words you'd said to him a week ago when the guilt settled in about how much of a shitty father he was. you were quick to correct him, saying the exact things he told tito, that for a man who found out he had a child only a few months ago, he was doing a great job, and he was even better than some other fathers who left the parenting to their partner.

"i'd never leave you hanging like that," he'd said to you.

but you shrugged off his comment. "it's a little different when it's my job to take care of your kid, mat."

"you've done a great job, barzy," beau said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "there's no doubt about it. you can tell because she loves you."

ella smiled at mat and pushed his cheeks together.

"what do you say we get back to mama bear, huh?" he asked his daughter who only seemed to smile wider at the mention your nickname.

it was another fifteen minutes before they were home, rowdy and disturbing the peace and quiet you'd created for yourself.

"we're back!" mat called as tito shut the front door behind him.

they were setting things down on the floor by the door when you walked out in sweats.

"mama bear!” tito cheered.

you smiled and mat couldn't breathe. "how was my baby?"

mat was embarrassed to say he almost answered for himself. "she was great," was what he said instead. "isn't that right, ella bean?"

ella was reaching for you, making grabby hands in your general direction babbling something he couldn't quite make out.

"what'd you say, baby?" you asked.

"mama," she said.

and the room went silent.

mat's eyes kept darting from ella to you like he was watching a game of olympic table tennis. ella kept reaching for you until you finally gave in and held her. it was then he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks.

mat immediately went into defense mode.

"i'm sorry, i promise i didn't teach her intentionally, she probably picked it up from us calling you mama bear all the time and--"

you shut him up by placing a small kiss on his cheek and squeezing his forearm before turning on your heel.

"let's take a nap, ella bean."

mat couldn't speak, not even when you left the room. tito clapped him on the shoulder before heading towards the kitchen.

"you're so gone for her."

exhibit e

"are you sure about this?" you called from the other room. mat was in the living room adjusting his tie in the mirror on the wall while the babysitter was playing with ella on the floor.

to be honest, when he was complaining to beau about not having a date to some charity event the islanders were hosting, he wasn't expecting beau to suggest you. though, given how beau kept winking and nudging him after every time you and mat so much as made eye contact, it shouldn't have been surprising.

it wasn't that he didn't think of asking you, it was more like he didn't think you'd actually say yes.

"sure about what?" he called back.

"bringing me."

"i've never been more sure about something in awhile."

"you're so dramatic," you laughed.

mat would give anything to bottle up the sound.

"does this look okay?' mat turned when your voice sounded closer than it was a second ago.

he couldn't breathe.

god you looked beautiful.

"oh," you said softly. "your tie matches my dress."

if he could've he would've looked down to confirm your observation, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. your hair was perfectly styled, your makeup, flawless. the navy of your dress was perfectly matched to his tie and pocket square, something that shouldn't matter as much to him as it did.

but it was you.

so it meant the world.

you looked like you were his.

"yeah," was all he could say.

"you never answered my question," you said. "do i look okay? because if it's too much--"

"perfect," he said. "you look perfect."

you smiled. "sydney picked it out." thank you sydney. "you look handsome too mat, though, your tie..." you gestured to his neck so he turned around to see it crooked still. "do you need help?"

"yes please," he sighed. "i've looked up videos, but tito usually helps me do it."

"aw," you cooed. "you looked it up? that's so cute!" your deft fingers began undoing the knot and redoing it way better than he could've.

"how are you so good at this?"

you shrugged. "when i was fourteen, i read a book where a girl tied her husband's tie and i wanted to be able to do the same for the love of my life one day. so i asked my dad to teach me. i'm a bit of a hopeless romantic."

the love of your life.

god he'd give anything to be loved by you.

and it would be so easy just to lean forward a couple of inches and kiss you.

right there.

give in to what he'd been feeling for months.

but the babysitter rounded the corner with ella who was chanting mama and dada which somehow ruined the mood and made him want to kiss you even more.

"be good, sweet girl. we'll see you tomorrow." you made your way to the front door while he kissed his daughter on the head.

"i'm not sure how long we'll be out, but i'll keep you updated," he told the babysitter.

the babysitter nodded, which to be honest, he barely noticed because his attention was back on you and how your dress, while it had sleeves, had a dip in the back. he didn't know that skin could be so alluring, but maybe it was the fact that it was you.

mat cleared his throat and bid the babysitter and ella goodbye before ushering the both of you out of the door.

the drive lasted longer than he wanted it to, mainly because he couldn't wait to get to the event just to show you off.

was this how he was supposed to feel with all of his other exes? the desire to show the world you were his?

"you okay? you're quiet, it's unlike you," you said.

mat shrugged, mainly so he didn't immediately profess his feelings. "just a lot on my mind."

"uh oh. that can't be good," you joked. you leaned over the console and placed your chin in your hand. "you wanna talk about it?"

mat's hands on the wheel tensed, mainly to keep himself from leaning over and kissing you immediately.

"i'm good, maybe we can discuss it later."

you shrugged. "if you say so."

the both of you arrived at the event shortly thereafter with mat passing his keys off to the valet. "stay seated," he told you before getting out and rounding the car to open your door.

"you didn't have to--"

"i know," he smiled. "i wanted to." mat offered you his arm and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep like it belonged there.

the two of you spotted marty and sydney first; the latter all but shrieked when she saw you.

"you look amazing!" she said before tugging you out of mat's arm and into her own. "i told you this dress was the one."

"you didn't say i would've matched mat," you mumbled, though he still heard it over the buzz in the room. he was always listening to you.

marty nudged him. "you seem pleased with yourself."

mat smiled. "i am."

you were laughing at something sydney said when tito came up and clapped him and marty on the shoulders. "let's get you a drink, barzy. you look thirsty." he leaned in. "in more than one way."

mat shoved him off and leaned towards you, gently touching your arm. "i'm going with beau and marty to get a drink, but i'll be back."

you smiled and nodded. "okay, don't worry about me, mat. i'll be fine in your absence."

he let himself be whisked away from you and towards the bar where a drink was placed in his hand pretty quickly.

"so," tito started. "you two match."

"it was syd's doing," marty explained. "she orchestrated the whole thing. picked out the dress based on the tie mat wears every year. it was her new project."

mat flushed but did his best to brush it off.

"i don't know how you did it barzy," tito continued. "she looks good. if i were you i would've--"

"watch it, beauvillier."

"i was gonna say--"

"i don't care what you were gonna say, i probably wouldn't have liked it."

"well then, maybe you should take a chance and ask her out finally. the pining was cute at first, now it's bordering on pathetic."

mat rolled his eyes while marty laughed into his drink.

"look, you have a good thing going, you brought her here as your date, ella calls her mama, you two are as good as locked in and committed. you just have to do the hard work of officially asking her out!"

his gaze travelled to the other side of the room where you were laughing along with sydney and grace. you looked like you belonged in his world.

effortlessly.

mat made a move to go over to you, but marty caught his arm. "this is not the place to ask her out," he said. "as much as you want to, you don't want her thinking it took a pretty dress to get you to take her out."

"that's not the case here--"

"does she know that?"

mat rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

it was another thirty minutes before he made his way back to you. he found you standing alone on the balcony with a glass of champagne in your hand.

"you okay?" he asked. "no one's bothering you or anything, right?"

you looked over your shoulder and snorted. "i'm not important enough to be bothered by the donors, mat."

"don't say that. you're important."

you rolled your eyes. "not what i meant, mathew."

god he loved it when you said his name.

"i just meant that the donors don't really pay attention to me, so i've just been hanging out with the wives all night since my date ditched me," you teased.

"okay to be fair, tito pulled me away, i would've stayed with you all night if i could've."

you blinked. "really?" you asked in a small voice.

he nodded until he found the words to speak. "i love spending time with you. you're one of my favorite people."

within a split second you were closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around his waist. your arms snuck under his coat so that the only thing separating your skin from his was the thin material of his dress shirt.

it only took him a split second to react to the hug and wrap you in his arms.

you mumbled against his chest. "you're one of my favorite people, too."

in conclusion:

in the end, there was nothing special about that day. it was a saturday in the middle of july back in coquitlam. by the grace of god, he'd convinced you to come to canada for him, not that you could really refuse as he was the one signing your paychecks, you'd joked (though he made it clear he'd continue paying you even if you didn't go).

and maybe he regretted it a little bit, seeing you bond with his family was another nail in his coffin of falling deeper in love with you. there was no way out now, not that he'd ever want one.

it was one particularly hot day in the summer that mat dragged you and the rest of his family to the beach. and maybe that was a mistake (seeing you in a red bikini in public should be illegal).

you sat in the sand with ella building castles, or at least attempting to, while he tried to drown liana in the water. it wasn't until liana finally dunked him, that he trudged back to shore, bent out of shape and irritated.

"you can dish it out but can't take it?" you teased as he plopped onto the sand next to you.

mat glared instead of saying anything mainly because ella was starting to pick up more and more words and she'd say "fuck" too many times thanks to his mouth.

speaking of, when she saw her dad, ella immediately called him before throwing herself into his lap, completely forgetting about you. it was funny to see mainly because it was a new trend of ella's, ditching you for him. it was even funnier because how put out you'd be about it.

just like now with your lip poked out and your eyes rolling.

"oh don't be a sore loser," mat said. "she used to love you more than me."

"well that makes sense, i'm way more likable than you are."

"i can't argue that."

liana came running into their direct line of sight with a polaroid camera in her hand. "i wanna get a picture of the happy family," she said as her explanation. "say cheese!"

mat froze but you didn't bat an eyelash at the idea of being called family. sure, he'd considered you a part of his ever since you agreed to watch his child, but he didn't know you felt the same.

"smile, mathew," you nudged him in the ribs.

he turned his head towards you, ignoring his sister's groans and chirps. he ignored the sound of a camera clicking and the subsequent flash that followed.

his focus was on you.

"mat, what're you looking at?" you asked. he could vaguely register liana walking away as your eyes searched his face for any hint of what could be going on, but all he could think about was you.

you wearing his jersey and holding ella at the stanley cup finals.

you in a few years with a ring on your left hand that he put there.

you with a newborn baby that was the perfect mix of the both of you.

you, old and crinkly, holding his hand on the couch as you told your grandkids stories.

you.

before he could even stop himself, he leaned forward and captured your lips with his.

you responded not a beat later.

and maybe it was embarrassing, how eager he was or how his hand felt like the perfect fit against your cheek. but he couldn't give a shit.

not when he'd waited so long for something like this. for someone like this.

and when you both pulled away, much too soon in his opinion, your eyes were wide.

"why'd you do that?" you whispered.

he shrugged and adjusted ella in his arms. "because my life is better with you in it. because i love you." he cleared his throat. "why'd you kiss me back?"

you smiled and leaned into kiss him again. this time though, instead of pulling fully away, you stayed close so that your lips brushed his. "because i love you too."

#mat barzal #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #tatgylb #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #my writing

934 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 8 months

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

DAY ONE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

pairing: stepbrother!frankie x santi's gf!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: you were seventeen when Frankie became your stepbrother, but no matter the title, he never felt like a brother to you, going off to college right after your father remarried. But no matter the circumstances, he was still off limits. Years pass and when he returns from the army your relationship with him is even more strained. You end up settling for the second best thing instead, his best friend. Everything seems to be going fine until Frankie stays over and Santi needs to leave for work.

word count: 5k

warnings: infidelity (reader cheats on santi), stepcest, possesive!frankie, y'all this fic isn't morally okay at all but it's not exactly "dark" it's just really messed up so read with caution, breeding kink, dirty talking, fingering, mild degradation kink, male masturbation, piv, oral sex, spitting, pillow humping, size kink, poor santi didn't deserve this, size kink, cuckolding kink???? (santi isn't there but frankie gets really turned on talking about it)

a/n: i don't know who's or what's gonna do it but I need someone to forgive me for this. also hopefully this turned out okay, it's very loosely edited and feel a bit all over the place but hopefully I'm just overthinking it. enjoy babes

Your father remarried when you were seventeen.

You felt cheated at the time. And not because your father had found love again—no, that made you quite happy actually. You just wished he’d done it sooner, you could’ve benefited from having a big brother early on. Your relationship with your birth mother wasn’t easy, especially when you were young, and having someone there to vent to would’ve been like a dream. Your dad listened, but you know he felt someone guilty for it even though it wasn’t his fault.

Frankie was only three years older than you. Sadly, he didn’t stick around for long, going off to college a year later. But his visits were frequent enough that you two developed a somewhat friendly relationship.

Emphasis on the somewhat.

Being young and dumb, you developed a crush on him instead. It was an innocent thing. Just some hearts around his name and following him around like a duckling whenever he was around. Your dad and stepmom found it cute, endearing. Frankie seemed indifferent most of the time. He listened when you needed to vent, brought you soup when you were sick and your parents were working—and that was pretty much it.

Then he went and joined the army.

You remember the chaos that decision brought over the household. You were applying for colleges all on your own, your dad busy trying to console your stepmom, the latter being distraught over the potential of losing her son. You were just. . . sorta around, floating and looking over them, listening without really being there, just. . . there.

A month later you were surprised to find a letter addressed to you. There was one for his mom and one for you, you just stared at it, confused when your dad handed it to you.

You opened it in your room. You swore the damn paper smelled like him, the beat of your heart too loud to your own ears.

You read it. There was only one sentence scribbled down, his handwriting even more crooked than usual.

I’m sorry.

You didn’t write back to him. You had no idea why he was apologizing and you were too afraid to ask at the time. During your first day of college you just assumed it was because he left you to deal with the mess his absence caused.

Then he returned.

The house was bustling when you came for your weekend visit. Your stepmom grinning from ear to ear when you arrived, hugging you tight with tears shining in her eyes. Frankie had brought a friend with him, a friend almost as handsome as him.

Said friend had smiled at you, squeezing your hand tight, “Santiago,” he introduced himself. He stayed over for about a week and so did you, charmed by this sudden stranger that was your brother’s best friend.

Frankie didn’t address the letter. Or what he’s written inside of it. He was the same as he’d ever been and for a second you doubted if you ever did receive a letter. But you knew you did. You still had it.

At the end of the week, Santi officially asked you out, telling you that he’d already spoken to Frankie about it. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole ordeal. It wasn’t like Frankie ever was protective towards you, you were pretty sure Frankie couldn’t care less about who you dated. But nonetheless, you said yes, hoping that Santi would bring you the normalcy you so desperately craved.

And he did. You were happy, enjoying every moment you spent with him. Santi didn’t push you aside, he didn’t make you feel like you had to fight for his attention. You didn’t have to play tricks or games, you weren’t second place to no one. Finally, you felt like the lead in your own goddamn life and you would always feel grateful to him for that.

You couldn’t say the same thing with your relationship with Frankie thought. He completely iced you out, only talking to you normally when people were around, especially Santi. No one seemed to notice. You wanted to ask him about it but too much of a coward to do so. And honestly, you didn’t have it in you to care anymore. Neither you nor Frankie were young anymore; if he had a problem, he could just ask.

Three months into your relationship, you moved in with Santi.

The setting sun's warm, orange glow pours through the open windows. A gentle breeze brushes against your skin, as you place a cup of hot black coffee on the table in front of him.

Santi sits on the couch, absorbed in the files from work. His fingers flip through the pages as he studies them intently. The soft rustling of paper mingles with the soft summer air.

You sit next to him, your legs brushing together. Unlike him, you didn’t hate yourself so you were cooling your insides down with an iced coffee. You take a sip, your eyes eating at the way the sun kisses his skin, sharpening his jawline further.

“Thanks,” he mutters, lifting his mug to your lips. His eyes find yours midst of drinking. “What are you looking at, querida?” he asks, lips twitching into a smile.

“Oh nothing,” you hum. “Just looking at my very hot boyfriend.”

“Very hot hmm,” Santi places the mug on the coffee table and gives you all his attention. “Seems like someone’s gonna miss me when I’m away.”

Before you can quip back, he pulls you to his lap, your thighs framing his hips. You instinctively grind down and let out a shuddering breath, Santi drops his head back against the couch. “Fuck, you really are going to miss me, aren’t you? Sweet thing.”

You cradle his jaw with both hands, leaning in, you press your lips together. Santi eagerly licks the seam of your lips, a silent order for you to let him in, you do, moaning at the feel of his tongue dancing alongside yours. He sucks the air from your lungs, tracing every inch of you with his tongue, a shiver runs up your spine, your body rubbing against his despite yourself.

When he parts away you take in the sight of his swollen lips, his lustful gaze. Your heart skips a beat and your insides flush.

“Oh, by the way, Frankie called,” he says out of the blue and out of breath.

Well, that certainly kills the mood.

“He needs a place to crash a couple of days, is that alright?” his eyebrows raise. “I’m actually surprised you don’t know. What kind of sibling relationship do you two have?”

“You know we never actually lived together right?” you shrug. “But of course, he’s my brother and I love him. He can stay as long as he wants to.”

He nods. “Good,” then nods again before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “It’s a bummer I won’t be here when he arrives.”

“You could’ve rescheduled.”

“This isn’t that kind of job sweetheart, you know it.” he nuzzles your cheek, feeling your discomfort. “But anyway, I’ll see him plenty when I get back.”

You draw him into another kiss, and you take your time with it, feeling the fat strokes of his tongue delving into your mouth as you part your lips further. You wish he’d be here when Frankie comes. He still doesn’t talk much unless there are others around and after all these years you don’t know what you did to anger him enough so that he’d hold a grudge.

Santi moans into your mouth and cups your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples with his thumbs. You wonder how okay he’d be with it if he knew about your past crush on Frankie. He’d probably laugh it off, it was a long time ago anyway.

Your mind drifts to Frankie. To his messy curls the ballcap he refused to take off. Deep down you wonder what his reaction would be in learning about your past crush. A gush of heat rolls down your spine, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. Santi's fingers glide downward, tracing the path between your legs. You shudder, a moan breaking through your lips.

You’re not sure who you’re thinking about right now, two faces merging as one.

You’re sitting on the couch, rigid, when you hear the knock that you hoped never came.

All day you’ve been pacing around thinking about it, thinking about Frankie. He hadn’t called you not even once. All of his travel info was forwarded to you by Santi. It hurt to a degree. Him ignoring your presence so forcefully. You haven’t visited home in ages just because you knew he was staying there, helping your dad with the business. Sometimes you teased your father that Frankie was the son he’d always wanted, and despite your awkward laughter, you knew there was some truth to that statement.

Another forceful knock.

You finally push yourself off the couch and head to the door. Blood pumps vigorously through your veins, your heart beating too fast—too loud. You don’t have time to calm yourself as you yank the door open.

His eyes immediately meet your own. Dark like chocolate chips but bitter like coffee. Sweat clings to his skin, hair curling at the ends, his shirt darkened in color sticking to his sternum, highlighting the contours of his chest and the swell of his stomach. You swallow.

“Hey, Frankie,” you make a move to help with his luggage but he pulls it away before you can touch the handle. Filled with unease, you take a step back and leave enough room for him and his luggage to pass through. “How was the flight?”

“Good.”

Jesus, why does he always make everything so difficult?

You close the door when he fully steps in, he does a brief once-over across the living room. His eyes linger on the picture of you and Santi on the coffee table, then quickly turn back to you, ignoring his own picture entirely. “Which room am I in, hermanita?”

Your eyes widen at the endearment, your pulse picking up again. It had been years since he last called you that. “Uh. . . last room down the hall,” you murmur, mind absent. When he’s about to leave, you grip his arm, stopping him. His muscles tense underneath your touch, his eyes burning holes into the hand that’s holding him. “I cooked,” you say, choked. “You must be hungry, let’s eat first then I’ll show you around.”

Frankie rolls his shoulders and moves his jaw from side to side. You’re about to take back your offer when he sighs, his shoulders dropping. “Fine. Okay.”

You’re heating up the food when Frankie walks through the kitchen door. He’s wearing a clean shirt, cheeks damp from where he splashed water over himself.

“Smells nice,” he mutters, standing next to you and peering from above your shoulder. “Is that mom’s recipe?”

“It is,” a soft smile touches your lips. His eyes follow the curve of it, a slight surprise etching between his brows. “But I don’t make any promises about the taste. It’s my first time making it.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

There’s something in his tone that prompts you to stop your stirring and look at him. You’re surprised to find him already staring. His eyes clouded, lips tight as his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t have. . . what?” you ask very slowly, every word chosen very carefully.

“Cooked,” he’s so unbelievably close. So close that you can hear the rasps in his voice, feel the heat of his breath across your cheeks. Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach.

“O–Oh, well it’s nothing,” you force a chuckle. “Didn’t want to feed you something you didn’t like when you’re already probably uncomfortable.”

He laughs, a sound you hadn’t heard in such a long time. Your body vibrates with the sound. “What am I? A dog?” However, the moment is fleeting like the sand dancing under the wind. His brows furrow. “What do you mean uncomfortable?”

Ah, so much for picking your words carefully.

You shrug and turn off the stove. Your eyes move up to the cupboard, you so desperately want to break away from the hold the close proximity has on you but it just feels good to be physically close to him again. He’s taller than Santi, that combined with broad shoulders and chest, Frankie’s presence can be quite demanding when he wants it to be. You guess that right now is one of those moments. He cups your chin, his fingers brushing against your neck. Your throat bobs heavily under his palm, sweat gathering at the small of your back.

“Don’t play dumb,” you answer him sharply. “You barely talk to me when we’re alone. You didn’t even tell me you were staying over or your itinerary, I had to learn it all from Santi,” you break away from his grip, your anger starting to boil over. Frankie’s unphased by your sudden movement. “So what? All of that changes just because I cooked for you? Just because you only now noticed that I actually care about you? Do you have any idea how—”

You clamp your lips shut. It was too much— too much threatening to bubble out. The inside of your mouth feels like sandpaper, your throat convulsing painfully as regret coats your tongue. You dare a glance at Frankie. He doesn’t seem taken aback by your outburst. In fact, he’s giving you a look as if he’s been waiting for this.

“I know that you care,” he murmurs and you look away, the softness in your tone more than enough to convince you that he knows. And he had known, all this time. “I had to ice you out. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

You need to hear him say it. You need him to tell you that he knows—you need him to blatantly tell you that every time you averted your gaze at the last second years before. . . he noticed.

“Choice in what? Just tell me,” you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling like your entire body might shatter into a billion pieces at any second.

He gives you a knowing look, eyes moving up and down your figure. “You know why.”

“So as always it’s my fault.”

“What?” he blinks rapidly and comes closer, hands finding your waist in an odd sense of familiarity. “No no, it’s not your fault. I. . . I was protecting you,” he licks his lips, eyes dropping to your mouth. “I was. . . protecting you from myself.”

You shake your head, fighting every urge to nuzzle his neck like a wounded animal. To smell his scent to soothe you. God, you’re unbelievable. And here you thought all your feelings had disappeared, apparently, they were just laying dormant under the flesh and bone.

His nails bite into your skin despite your clothes.

“Do you know how hard it was seeing you with him?” he spat the last word as if it was poison. A shiver crawls up your spine, needles digging into your skin. “You started to look at him the same way you used to look at me. I had to pull away.”

“You were jealous?” you ask, confusion crossing your face. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s wrong, hermanita.”

The Spanish hit his tongue more violently this time. A reminder of what this relationship was supposed to be. However, the word doesn’t stop him from coming closer and closer, until his lips are only a breath away.

“We’ve never been brother and sister, Frankie,” you say voice surprisingly hoarse. “Everyone knows that.”

He scoffs, “You’re dating my best friend.”

For that, you don’t have an excuse. All you can do is swallow and nod, his chest now flush against his, the only thing separating you to is your own arms that were still squeezing you tight.

Frankie observes you a second longer, eyes flitting across your face; taking in the sight of your parted lips and dilated pupils. “But,” he continues, voice dangerously low. "I'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You enter the bedroom and as soon as you do guilt rapidly builds in your chest, Frankie is right behind you, closing the door while your gaze remains glued to the picture that’s on your nightstand. A picture of you and Santi; there’s frosting on his nose from your birthday cake, your face split in a huge smile. You also remember being mildly bummed that Frankie hadn’t called.

He follows your gaze, frowning when he notices what it was that you were staring at. With large steps, he walks over to the frame and slams it down.

“Do you want this?” he breathes out, voice nothing but gravel. He doesn’t turn to look at you, his face lowered to the nightstand. “Because if you don’t, you have to tell me.”

He’s asking the wrong question.

You walk up to him, sliding your arms to his front as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades.

Of course, you want this.

The question he should be asking is if it’s worth throwing everything away just for one night. Because this is what that was. You don’t think you can hide it, and you’re not even sure if you want to hide it.

Being with Frankie tonight means that you’re saying goodbye to Santiago, whether you tell him or he figures it out.

You clutch the front of his shirt. It’s damp with sweat. You press a kiss, enjoying the moisture gathering at your lips. “Do you?”

He turns around and grabs your face, pulling you to him immediately. Your mouths crash together, tongue and teeth eager to explore more of the other. He’s already pulling you away before your brain can’t even comprehend the taste of him, “More than anything,” he growls, hands still cradling your face. “Get on your knees.”

Your drop instantly, not even bothering to take off your shirt. Warmth blossoms all over your skin as he drops his pants along with his boxers, cock already hard and ready. He starts stroking himself and tilts your head back. “Open your mouth,” he orders.

Slotting the head of his cock between your lips, fist moving up and down his length. You close your lips around him, dipping your tongue into the slit. He groans with a rock of his hips, the first drops of precome stain your tongue, a loud moan ripping from your throat. You desperately want to bury your hand between your legs, your clit throbbing angrily.

Frankie moves his hand away from his cock and brackets your head with both hands, pushing you forward down his cock. Only halfway down and you begin gagging, struggling for breath. You knew he’d be big, you just weren’t aware of how big.

A cruel laughter rings above you, “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all you can take?” you look up, eyes teary as he thrust a little bit more. Your throat squeezes helplessly around the width of him, your nostrils flaring. Frankie clicks his tongue, “My poor baby sister,” he tuts. “You’re not used to taking something this big huh?”

You attempt to convey an answer but end up choking around him instead, your lids flutter, wet lashes kissing the skin under your eyes. “I guess I’ll have you train you myself,” your nipples harden at the promise, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. “But later,” he says and much to your disappointment, pulls out.

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as oxygen floods your lungs.

“Strip,” he says, pulling off his shirt and kicking his pants away. “And get on the bed.”

“So bossy,” you mutter, and as soon as you do, Frankie tugs you roughly against him, his tongue slipping between your lips hastily. He doesn’t allow you to breathe, mouth moving before you get the chance. He licks deeper into your mouth, and sucks your tongue as he parts away. Your insides flush. Your head spinning and legs trembling. Lightheaded, you grip his shoulders.

“I’m not bossy,” he grunts, wet lips touching your forehead. “I’m just eager.”

That makes both of you. Quickly stripping, you climb the bed waiting for him to show you just how eager he was.

Instead, he walks around the bed, examing the pillows, “Which one is his?”

“Santi’s pillow?” you raise an eyebrow. “It’s the one on the left.”

He takes it with a hum, “Spread your legs,” he says and when you do, he places the pillow between them. Your heart races, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. You don’t lower yourself down on the pillow, too embarrassed to do so. Frankie sits on the footstool at the end of the bed and takes his cock into his fist. He stares at you expectantly.

“Uh—What am I supposed to do?”

His cat-like grin makes you realize he wanted you to ask that, he leans forward, touching himself slowly, “I want you to make a mess of his pillow,” he groans. You clench at the order, your cheeks heating at how slick you’ve gotten just from the thought of it. “I want you to drench it so when he lays his head, he knows you don’t belong to him.”

Frankie’s gaze flash with hunger, it frightens you to a degree, how angry he truly is.

The fact that you actually do it, frightens you more.

You lower yourself onto the pillow, feeling its softness beneath you and a strange thrill whispering through your body as your arousal surges higher. With a moan, you begin to ride the pillow, sinking your hips deeper with every thrust. You feel it grazing your clit, a whimper dropping from your lips. Mouth agape, you lift your gaze to Frankie.

He’s stroking himself with a smile, wet noises coming from his fist fill the room, he swipes a thumb over the head. Your mouth flooding with saliva, you press against the pillow harder, the muscles of your legs clenching. Frankie notices and spreads his legs further, giving you a show of cupping his balls before moving his hand up again.

“You look like you’ve never seen cock before,” he purrs. “You can’t wait can you? For me to fill that hungry pussy up. Don’t worry, big brother is going to take care of you.”

“Fuck—” you can feel your body becoming increasingly slick, your breathing heavy and labored as pleasure ripples across your skin. Your body tenses and trembles as you rock against the pillow relentlessly, the coil tightening as you circle your hips.

Dampness gross underneath you, Frankie’s eyes fixed on where you and Santi’s pillow connect. You’re embarrassingly wet, strings of slick stretching between. Your movements start to slow as your orgasm nears, it’s too much and you have the need to just bend over and let Frankie fuck you hard without any of the games.

The legs of the footstool drag against the hardwood floors, the sound making you jump. Climbing the bed, he sits on his knees, “Let me feel how wet you are,” he groans. He pushes his hand between your legs without waiting for an answer. He slips a finger in, your eyes rolling back at the pressure. “He can’t get you this wet can he?” he asks rhetorically. “Bet he’d loved to see you getting yourself off like this, coming for another man.” he curses, thrusting into his other hand.

You hover above the pillow, your thighs starting to shake for exertion.

“Don’t stop, baby. Come on, soak it—soak it and I’ll fuck you.”

Your nipples tighten and your skin begins to tingle with arousal. Your head tilts backward and your mouth opens slightly as your body arches and grinds against the pillow. Something devastating builds inside, it builds and builds and builds—builds until you can’t take it anymore. Liquid heat sprays out of you, your walls convulsing as you drip down his hand and soak the pillow, just like he said.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he murmurs, pulling out his finger and dragging the wet digit over your cheek. He kisses you deeply. “Good fucking girl,” he growls into your mouth, nipping your chin.

You gasp for breath, your hips slowing but still shaking with pleasure even when you stop. Your mind is in a state of ecstasy. Frankie forces your jaw apart and purses his lips, spitting into your mouth. You jolt when it hits your tongue. “Swallow,” he murmurs.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweet girl,” he coos. “Gonna claim you on the bed you sleep with him every night,” he chuckles into your mouth. “I’m going to fuck you so good that Pope’s gonna keep wondering why it always smells like sex in here.”

God, you wish it didn’t but the words and the depravity he said them in makes your skin prickle, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips.

Frankie turns you over, pulling the pillow under your hips as you remain on all fours. Your arms feel weak, legs still trembling from your orgasm. “F–Frankie,” you slur your words.

“Don’t worry baby,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth over the small of your back. “I got you, and I’m never gonna let go.”

He positions Santi’s pillow under your hips, the fabric dark in color from your slick. Your arms finally gave way and you drop face-first into the sheets, you can smell him now, Santi’s pine scent fills your lungs.

Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?

“Stop thinking about him,” Frankie hisses from behind you, parting your folds by dragging his length. He lets out a deep sigh before you can answer. “It doesn’t matter, you won’t be able to think of anything else soon anyway.”

You shudder at the promise of his words. He leans in, the heft of his body covering yours as his lips touch your ear, “I’m gonna come inside this pretty cunt. Then you’re going to squeeze every bit of it out and taste it—Got it?”

“Y-Yes,” your voice is trembling, your body burning from the inside out.

Suddenly he grips your nape, squeezing until pain ebbs under the skin. You swallow, tears stinging the corner of your eyes; he doesn’t say a word, pushing his cock between your wet thighs. It’s filthy how he makes you feel, how badly you want to surrender to him. You drool all over him, your walls spasming until the head catches against your clit and a whimper leaves your lips.

Frankie comes to a halt and his grip around your nape lightens, caressing the skin.

You let out a little groan as he eases himself inside you. He moves further and further until he’s fully sheathed. A thrill surges through your body. Your eyes roll back at finally faving him inside, a wanton moan falling from your lips.

Frankie flexes his cock and you groan at the stretch, “Who’s bigger?” he huffs, pushing deeper. Your body becomes limp underneath him. “Me or him.”

“You,” you manage to garble a response. “You’re so much bigger than him, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he pants, chest heaving. “He can’t fuck you like this can he?”

He presses your hips flush against the pillow, the dampness that touch you scorching your skin. You nod helplessly and claw against the sheets. “He can’t—” you choke out. “Frankie please.”

He gives you what you want, grinding against you, cock filling you up with every forceful thrust. His ragged moans echo around the room, and you grasp onto the sheets tighter. Every thought is knocked out of your head every time he buries himself into you. Hips bruising where it hits your skin. You reach the peak quickly, that familiar tingle blossoming between your legs.

“Fuck—” beads of sweat line Frankie’s body, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. “You feel so good, so fucking good.”

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you out, holding one breast tight. His thumb goes in circles, lust lapping at your tired body as he presses deeper. “I want to feel you coming just on my cock,” he moans into your cheek.

Frankie angles himself in a way that he brushes against something devastating inside of you. It’s like a jolt of electricity, the force of it enough to empty the air in your lungs. He drags his cock over the same spot again and again, his thrust quick paced. You cry out his name when static fills your ears and dots dance over yoru vision. Your head falls back, chest heaving as your body quakes.

Your cunt continues to squeeze and throb around him, and soon enough, you feel the hot spill of come filling you to the brim. You swear another orgasm washes over you, the flavor of it thick on your tongue as you meet his thrusts. Frankie huffs a tired laugh and grips your asscheeks, spreading them.

“I can feel you dripping,” he murmurs, you hear the smile in his voice. “Makes me want to stay buried in your forever,” in contrast to his words, Frankie pulls out. “I hope you didn’t forget what I said,” he kisses your neck, long and slow. “Drag that full pussy all over his pillow.”

You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips over the soft material, you hiss when it brushes over your clit. “S-Shit, Frankie—”

“Bet he never fucked you like that before,” he remarks. Satisfied with the mess, he gestures you to move away. You practically collaps, head thudding against the headboard. Frankie’s gaze is fixed on the poor pillow, drenched in your slick and his come.

No matter what Frankie says, you’re not letting Santi sleep on that pillow. You’re fucked up, but you’re not that fucked up.

Staring at the pillow, reality finally settles in. A sharp inhale parts your lips and Frankie’s eyes snap toward the sound, his gaze searching yours. “There’s no going back from this,” he says. “When’s he coming back?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Good,” he crawl over to you, taking place between your still trembling legs. He slides his palm up your tigh and presses his mouth against your neck. “That’ll give us more time.”

You’re too much of a coward to ask time for what.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x fem!reader #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

754 notes · View notes