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spookysteddie · 4 months

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Always Comin’ Home to You

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

18+ MINOR DNI

dec: after a fight with his step-mother Gator comes home late, scaring you. His bruises tell you of the day he had and all he wants is to feel you.

cw: Swearing, abandonment, mental / physical abuse (Roy to Gator), domestic abuse (Roy to Karen), bruises, mention of death, implication of anxiety, murder, toxic religion themes, gator calls his step-mom a cunt, crying, fingering, daddy kink, dd/lg themes if you squint, Gator calls himself her God (what's the name for that?), unprotected penetrative sex, cream pie, promises. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.7k

a/n: I need Gator Tillman like I need to fucking breathe. This man is WOW. I just want to pet him and tell him he is, in fact, a winner and then suck him off. Anyway, I hope y'all like this heheh

...

Gator Tillman didn’t have a lot of good things in his life.

Between his mother leaving, his father being as asshole and everything in between, Gator was a little fucked up and very morally gray. Doing his daddy's dirty work in the hopes Roy will finally be proud of him.

Now, there was one good thing (or person) in his life, one human who brought out the best in him. One person who saw him for the person he was deep inside. The one who saw him as a winner.

You.

You were everything Gator could ever dream of, his perfect girl.

“Gator? Baby have you seen my sunglasses?” You pull some clothes out of the hamper, double (triple) checking that they weren’t in there. “Do you have them? Are they in your cruiser?!”

You hear Gators heavy footsteps before he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, “have ya checked on top of ya head?” You can hear the smugness in his voice and instantly you want to punch him.

You were an angel and subsequently the sweetest girl. Shit, you make Gator catch and release the spiders you find in the house because you ‘want someone to grant you the same kindness in life’. Whatever that means. But of course he does it, because the last thing he wants is to make you cry.

Well, that’s not true. He loves making you cry while your wrapped around his cock, fucking you so deep and hard that you can’t form a complete thought. Only then does he enjoy the tears streaming down your face.

But at the same time, you had a wicked attitude. One he liked to fuck outta you at every opportunity. And when you look up at him he knows it’s coming.

“Do they look like they’re on my fuckin’ head, Gator? Jesus Christ.” But he doesn't fail to notice you subtly check in the mirror to make sure they aren’t actually on your head. They aren’t, for the record.

Gator is not like his daddy. Does he have his fathers attitude? Absolutely. But he has never raised his hand to you outside of the bedroom, much to his fathers dislike. Claiming he’s watched his father beat on his step-mother and even though he hates her – only because she gave birth to his twin sisters, giving his father two more chances to fuck their futures up – he doesn’t think it’s right.

He balls his fists, nails digging into the center of his hand. He has too much shit to do today and, frankly, doesn’t have time for this shit. “Watch ya mouth bunny. Lucky my dad aint home to hear you take Christs name in vain.”

Gator is right. His daddy already doesn't like you, doesn’t think you’re Godly enough. He also seems to think you’re an idiot simply because Gator does everything for you, even down to tying your shoes. It’s something Gator likes doing, taking care of you as it helps ease his mind.

But at the same time Roy wonders how his son could catch and keep a girl like you. It’s emotional whiplash most of the time. Of course, Gator takes the brunt of his daddy's issues when it comes to you, never letting his daddy so much as look wrong in your direction.

You sigh, running your hands down your pink skirt, “look, can you please help me find them? You know my eyes don’t do well with the sun bouncing off the snow.”

His eyes soften, loving when you need his help, “I’m willin’ to bet they’re in the cruiser on the floor boards.”

Your face heats as you remember exactly why they’d be on the floor of the cruiser, your escapades from your little meeting at the police station last night. There was always that preliminary fuck before going back to Roys (cause God forbid Gator ever come stay at your place. His daddy needs him nice and close.) considering you don’t know how to keep your moans quiet. So, he tires you out, not so much that you can’t drive back to his place, but just enough to where you’re silent during round two and three and four.

The cold nips at your bare legs, winter just as brutal as every other year in this godforsaken state. You swear it never gets easier, winter, and the older you get the more you think about moving south. You think Gator would like the warmer weather, probably find the warmth soothing.

“Ah ha! Got ‘em!” Gator hands them to you with a huge smile on his face. He looks almost boy-like. It’s rare he has a genuine smile, especially when his daddy is around.

“Gator,” his step-mothers voice rings out from the porch, making you both jump. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing his frustration. “Stop yellin’ cause your sisters are sleepin’!”

“Karen, they’re at the other end of this fuckin house and your scratchy ass voice is louder than me.”

You can see her huff, “I should call your father!”

He sighs, turning on his heel, “I don’t think that’ll be a good idea. Dad’s… a little busy today.” Gator knows exactly what his daddy is busy with, not that he’d ever tell you. Terrified that he would somehow put you in danger.

You know that there was shit his daddy made him do. Things that forced him to come home with black eyes, bloody lips and bruises on his knuckles and body. It hurt your heart every time he came home like that, telling you it was nothing while he winces as he takes off his clothes.

Karen seethes from the porch and you see her look from Gator to you and back. Gator, who notices everything, sees it and steps in front of you, pushing you behind him. “Don’t look at her like that, Karen.”

That seems to annoy her more, “she better not be here tonight. You hear me? Don’t need your sisters hearin the stuff you two get up to at night.”

“Not any worse than dads hands hittin’ your face while they sit at the kitchen table.” You cringe at his statement, seeing Roy hit Karen more times than you can count. “You don’t run this house. Or tell me what to do.” He spits on the ground and turns away, waiting till he hears the door slam to speak.

“I fuckin hate her. She’s sucha little bitch.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, breathing him in. “Can stay at mine tonight if you want. Don’t wanna get you in trouble,” you murmur into his shirt. “O-or we can spend a night apart. I know we haven’t done that inna while but just till this blows over an’ we know she didn’t say nothin’ to your father.”

You know you're rambling, but all you want is to make Gators life comfortable and safe. You know there is a small chance that Karen will call Roy, tell him what happened, maybe even lie (she’s done that before) and say you upset her. If that happens, Gator will get it good, possibly another broken arm or dislocated jaw. That’s the last thing you want. You can feel you chest ache, eyes burning at the idea of Roy hurtin’ him.

Gator pulls your face back from his chest, making you look up at him, “don’t you be worryin’ bout me now. Roy ain’t gonna do shit and I don’t sleep when you aren’t curled up next to me,” he kisses your forehead. “I’ll put some feelers out to see if that little bitch called him. Gotta meeting at 3 with him.”

You nod, your hand coming up to fix his jacket. In reality, you just need something to distract from the burning behind your eyes.

“Hey? I’m serious. I’ll be fine, okay?” He lets you go to reach into his pocket, pulling out some cash and handing it to you, “why don’t you go get your nails done or something, yeah?”

You know refusing to take the money wont go well, so you take it, putting it in the pocket of your jacket. “Thank you, daddy,” you whisper out, knowing you aren’t really supposed to say that outside of Gators locked bedroom door.

He lets it slide, the day has been stressful enough for you. “That’s my good bunny. Now, run along and I’ll meet you here at six okay?”

You tilt your head, “no station tonight?”

“Nah… Jerry is working and he’s got a starin’ problem when it comes to ya. Don’t feel like scoopin’ eyeballs out. Too messy.”

You shudder but kiss him goodbye before getting in your car. You have a very bad feeling his 3pm meeting isn’t going to go how he expects.

…

You were right.

You knew you were right the second you pulled up to his house at six on the dot and he wasn’t home. You reach for your phone, looking to see if maybe you’d missed a text, phone call, shit even an email from your boyfriend.

Nothing.

Even when you try to call him, you're met with a voicemail. You can feel the bile rise in the back of your throat, fear making your skin itch. Was this it? Was this the time Roy sends him out there to do his dirty work and he doesn’t make it home?

He could be anywhere right now. Not only that, if he was dead, no one would do shit for him. No funeral, no service, nothing. His dad would go on and wipe his hands clean of his “loser” son, probably more than happy that the ties of his first wife are gone for good.

Oh God, what if he was dying, the cold freezing the blood onto his skin, frostbite settling in. He could be so scared, praying to the God he doesn’t believe in that you come find him. His clothes are probably wet too, sticking to him thanks to the sn-

A knock on your window makes you jump, a yelp falling from your lips. You look over, seeing the blue of his jacket in your peripheral and the sight makes you gasp. You’re quick to shut off the car, jumping out and getting a closer look at him.

He looks… awful. His right eye is nearly swollen shut, dry blood sticking to his split brow. There is a bruise on the other side of his face and under his left eyes, clearly he got hit in the nose.

“Baby…” this time you can't stop the tears from falling. “Baby what happened?”

He lets out a long, deep sigh, his hands resting on your cheeks. “Fuckin’ cunt called dad. Said I needed a lesson in respect. S’how I got the bruise on my left eye.” He wipes the tear that falls from your eye, his touch soft and kind, “sent me to do some shit across state lines. Guy beat the fuck outta me. He ain’t alive no more though.”

You sniffle, “is it just your face?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say more. He knows you’ll see the rest once he gets you inside. Well … “we-I can’t let you sleep here tonight, Gator.”

He shakes his head, “it’s fine. Dad said so himself. Come on.”

And so he drags you inside, Karen looking like the cat that caught the canary as she watches you help Gator walk. You make a mental note to never forget this, never forget how she treats her step-son.

You push open Gators bedroom door, making sure to shut it silently and lock it before settling Gator on the bed. “Let’s get ya into some comfy clothes, yeah?”

You crouch down in front of him, making quick work of untying his boots.

“Baby, I can do this. I’m the one who's supposed to help you.”

That only makes more tears burn your eyes. You hated that he never let anyone help him, hated that he always had to be strong, couldn’t ever cry, nothing. You hated Roy for making him like this and you hated his mother for leaving and not saving her only son from a life of pain.

“Stop. Just-just let me help you, Gator please.” You pull at the laces to loosen them and make it easier to slide off his boot, your vision blurry from the tears in your eyes.

His boot comes off easy and you make sure you keep your hold on it so it doesn’t make any noise on the floor. Same with the second one.

You stand, unclipping his thigh holster and setting it on the nightstand where he likes it. Incase of emergencies. Next is his belt, coming off with ease. He stops you when you get to his pants, making you look up at him. He hates the silver shining along your waterline.

“I love you, little bunny.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it.

“I love you too.” Your voice cracks as you say.

You work on his pants, popping open the buttons with ease. Next you pull his shirt out of his pants and pull it over his head. By the time his shirt hits the floor, you’ve gotten a full look at his bare torso. A bruise is forming along his ribs, it’s really red and slightly turning purple.

“Jeez baby,” your hands gently touch his skin and he hisses a little. “S-sorry.”

He says nothing as he helps you pull off his pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

“Stay here,” you tell him as you collect his dirty clothes and go into his attached bathroom. You sigh as you grab a face cloth, turning the water on so it heats up. It, of course, takes forever for the water to warm. Nothing like shit water heating thanks to the frigid winter. But once it does you wet the cloth and grab the first aid kit and go back to him.

You’ve done this before, cleaned him up, you’ve even stitched him up. You’d like to thank the internet for telling you how to do that and you’ve gotten good over the last two years.

“S’is gonna hurt. Luckily it looks like you don’t need stitches. Just don’t move while I work okay?”

He nods, “yes, baby. Ya don’t have to do this. I know you don’t like blood.” This was true, you didn’t like blood at all, barely even being able to handle papercuts. But for some reason, when it comes to him, you can manage to push it aside. Cuts can get infected and when they’re on his face it means it could go to the brain faster.

You carefully dab the wet rag around his split eyebrow, gently clearing off the blood and making sure that you don’t resplit the cut open. “I think it split from the swellin’ but I don’t think it needs stitches.”

He nods slightly, “good. I was hoping it’d close on its own.”

You put some wound cleaner on it before you bandage it. He might have a scar there unless he leaves it alone. But knowing Gator, it’ll open again. You clean up around his face and causing a hiss to leave his lips once you touch his cheek and eye. You apologize, applying some cream that makes bruises heal faster to his face and ribs.

“That’s everything.” You force a small smile at him, tossing the wet cloth into the hamper and putting the first aid kit away. You get undressed, needing skin to skin contact. Then, you climb into bed, snuggling up to him, resting your head on the safe side of his chest.

The silence stretches, Gators arm around your shoulders, his thumb moving softly.

“I thought you were dead in the snow,” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them.

He thumb stills for a heartbeat before resuming, “but m’not.”

“I’m sorry this is the life you were forced into. It is not fair.”

He kisses your head, breathing you in for a moment, “it’s not your fault, bunny. You didn’t do any of this. Shoulda kept my mouth shut when it came to Karen. Just… smile an’ wave.”

You shake your head, kissing his chest, “not how it’s supposed to be.”

Gator rolls over you, forcing you on your back. He bites back a pained groan. “My sweet bunny, listen to me. I am here. I am safe. S’gonna take a lot more to kill me.” He leans down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

You let your hands slide into his hair, deepening the kiss. Honestly, you just need to feel him. He knows it and if he’s being honest, he needs to feel you too. He’ll never say it out loud, but as he laid in the snow, doing his best to get the fucker he was sent to kill off of him, he was scared.

Scared he would die and you’d spend the rest of you life wondering. He knew no one would fill you in and he knew his daddy wouldn’t have a service for him. You’d be alone, wondering what happened to him, praying to the god you don’t believe in that he’d come home again. So, he fought like hell and now, he really needs you. Needs to be inside you.

You pull back, breaking the kiss, “Gator, we can’t.”

“We can. Please baby.” Gator doesn’t beg, he didn’t need to when it came to you. Always more than willing to do what he says and give him what he wants. His begging makes you give in.

His hands push your underwear aside, feeling how ready you already are for him. Always ready, always wanting and only for him.

You pull him in for a kiss while his fingers find your clit with ease, swallowing your moans. He always knows exactly how you like it, fingers moving in swift circles and just the right amount of pressure.

“So fucking pretty when you’re at my mercy,” he pushes two fingers inside you, the stretch making your brain go fuzzy. “Looked so fucking pretty in your little skirt and frilly socks. My little angel.”

The way Gator is cooing at you, his fingers crooked up to touch the one spot that drives you nuts and you can feel yourself slipping into that headspace you both love. You’re trying so hard to be logical, knowing he’s hurt and can hurt himself further.

“Thank you, daddy. Bought it because I thought you’d like it.” Your voice is getting small, breathy.

He grins, kissing down your neck, “I love it. Love everything you wear. Look so pretty in your pastels.” His thumb finds your clit, a soft moan falling from your lips. It’s embarrasing how quickly you are to coming around his fingers.

“P-please. Gator please.”

He smirks, “use your words, sweet girl. Tell me what you want.”

You can feel your body heat up from both the coil inside you winding tighter and the embarrassment of having to say what you want. “I-I need to cum. So bad.”

The second the words are in the air, Gator pulls his hands away, leaving your orgasm to fade away. “NO! No, no, no, no please!”

He sucks a mark into your neck, his tongue licking over the spot to sooth it.

“Need ya to cum on my cock, baby.”

Before your brain can catch up, he’s sliding inside you. The stretch is something you haven't gotten used to in the last two years. It feels like he's splitting you in half, his cock filling you completely.

“OH! Oh my god.” You're already panting, squeezing him so hard he’s fighting to not bust prematurely.

Gator drops to his forearms and pumps his hips, getting right in your face. He’s so close you can smell the fruity scent from the vape he was no doubt huffing on before coming to see you.

“S’right baby, I am your God and I love when ya pray to me.”

You can’t help the way your cunt clenches, a moan falling from your lips that is just slightly too loud for either of your comforts. At the moment, you don’t care. You know Roy already got his fill of kicking Gatos' ass. He’s not going to worry about it tonight.

“Daddy, please. I’m so close.”

His hips are snapping hard, cock hitting your cervix with every thrust. He feels like he’s inside your throat and you can’t tell if his grunts are from pain, pleasure, or both.

“Not yet. Almost there. D-don’t cum yet.”

Your nails sink into his biceps, hips starting to stutter.

“Please! Fuck! Oh god…”

He smirks, eyes meeting yours, “yeah? I know how bad ya need it. How bad ya need me to fill this pretty, little cunt up. Breed an own ya f’ever? Hm?” His eyes are black and he looks absolutely feral. Primal.

His hand snakes down the front of your body, finding your clit with ease. You gasp, thighs starting to shake. You knew you weren’t going to last but you needed his permission. You craved his praise and being in his good graces. You’d let him do anything to you, that’s how much you trust him.

“Yes! Yes! Whatever you want. Anything.” You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, too cock drunk to think of anything besides him and what he’s doing to you.

He laughs, seeing your eyes glazed over and tears of pleasure lining your eyes, “cum for me bunny. Do it.”

It’s all you need to fall into bliss.

His hand covers your mouth knowing how loud you’re about to be. His face drops into your neck as he cums with you, both of your moans muffled by each other's bodies. His cum fills you, leaking out as he brings you both down.

His hand slowly leaves your mouth, head lifting to look at you.

“I love you. I fuckin’ love you so fuckin’ much.” He leaves little kisses all over your face, trying to bring you back to him. “You hear me? M’never leavin’ you.”

You take a shuddering inhale, trying to form a coherent thought, “P-promise?”

You hold your pinky up to him, hands shaking while adrenalin continues to run through your veins. He giggles, hooking his pinky with yours, “promise. I’ll always come home to you. I will always fall asleep next to you.”

He looks down, flipping your hand over and checking out your nails, “I can’t wait for these pretty, red claws to be wrapped around my cock.”

Your chest lightens as you both laugh together.

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wifeofnatasharomanoff · 1 year

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Sinful Affairs

WARNINGS: Nat has a dick, reader and Nat aren't married but they have a baby, arguing, slight angst, guns/knives, violence, fingering (reader receiving), oral (Nat receiving), daddy kink, breeding kink, degradation, edging, choking, slapping/spanking kink (only a bit) jealousy, possessiveness , fluffy ish at the end

WORDS: 2,779

PAIRING: dark/toxic!mob boss!Nat x f!Reader

A/N: silly little me wanted to write this, i hope you guys have been doing well <3

There it was again, her. The woman you shared many nights with. The woman who couldn't be there for you and the child you had together. But you see her again. You felt your breath catch in your throat. Her red hair was pulled up into a braid. A little boy in her arms. “Natasha. W- what are you doing here? Why are you here?” her lips formed into a sly grin. “Why? Can't I visit my son and my girl?” You glared at her. Her girl? If you were hers, she wouldn't have left you time after time with that dumb little note every morning. ‘Sorry sweetheart, work issues. Had to leave, I'll be back.’ and every time you believed her. You had begged her to stay. To quit her job and live with you and the baby, it's not like she lacked the money for it. She knew you were upset. And that she was the cause of it. “Natasha please just leave.” she sent you a stern look and carefully put down the baby in his crib.

“And why should I listen to you?” she said as she leaned against the wall. “You don't have to. But I want you to.” she seemed unphased by your little comment. She was more humored that you didn't want her here. Or that you attempted to lie in order to get her to leave. “If you aren't going to stay, then there's no point in coming here. You're getting my hopes up, and Alex would know you well enough to remember. Remember that his other parent could care less about him and his mom.” she faked a look of pity as she backed you out of the nursery and into the bedroom.

“You don't realize that if I stay, you two would get hurt. Do you even know how many enemies I've made in my line of work? No. Exactly, so you can't be upset at me for something you don't know.” you scoffed, “oh, so you visiting makes it any less dangerous for us? Nat– you‐ God! I don't even know what I feel when I'm around you.” was that a confession, or were you still fighting? “Well, I'm being careful with my visit times. I don't show up whenever I want to.” so she chose to ignore that last part.

You couldn't tell if you were mad at her or if you wanted to risk it all for one more night with her. So you stayed silent as she brought up a finger under your chin to direct your face to hers. “Natasha– if you stayed here, you would be able to protect us. What if you don't come home for over a week and you show up to find us dead? Hm?” her grip on your face slightly tightened. How could you say something like that? “Detka.. I–” your gaze dances over her features. She accidentally let her insecurities slip, you could tell. Her brows softened, and her eyes were a bit glossed over.

“You what?” she slid her hand from your face and down to your neck. Her fingers hesitated before clasping around your neck and pushing you up against the wall. Her hold was tight but not yet unbearable. You felt your oxygen cut off at some point, making your head go all fuzzy. She was always violent but never over matters like this. When she noticed your hand around her wrist loosen, she stopped. Did she go too far? No. In her mind, she was always right. You gasped for air the second she let you go. “Y/N—” you coughed as you leaned your head against the door.

“D- don't you think you've done enough Nat?” you couldn't bring yourself to look at her. “... What if I marry someone else? Alex wouldn't mind a stepdad or step-mom. At least they'd be there for him—” that was it. She had enough of you by now. You winced as you felt her palm harshly hit your cheek, reddening the side of your face. “Don't you fucking say that you little slut. Alex is perfectly fine with the way things are.” you blinked back some unshed tears, “how do you know that? He's just a baby. He can't even talk yet! Did he tell you that he was okay with all of this? Did he?” she sighed as she shook her head.

You watched her slowly bring a hand up to her pocket and pull out a blade. “Natasha put that down.. fuck– put it down, Nat!” you shouted as you threw the pillows that sat on the bed at her. If anything, it angered her more. “Natasha stop! I- I can call 911. You've been wanted by the police for a few years, isn't that right?” she huffed as she threw you onto the bed with ease. “Please Tash stop!” you cried as you felt her cold touch underneath your shirt. “You aren't marrying anyone. If you do, it'll be me. You're mine. You hear that?” you had to give in. Or else she would've done something to you. “Mhm! I'm yours. I'm all yours! Please Nat stop.” you held your breath as you felt the tip of the knife gently hit your skin.

She's not going to kill you. Right? She has hurt you before, but you doubt that she'd kill you. Or maybe she would. A shaky gasp escaped your mouth when you sensed the head of a gun underneath your chin. It can't be loaded. Can it? You whimper as she harshly tugged on your hair and pressed the gun harder against your skin. “Natasha! Nat.. please t–that's empty, right?” her lips grew into a slight smirk as she lowered the gun and pulled the trigger, aiming for the wall. You felt your blood go cold, it was loaded. She was going to kill you, wasn't she? That's what she wanted you to think. The second you heard the shot, your body slightly jumped. The knife that she held against your stomach lightly touched your skin.

“Natasha please. Let me go. I won't marry anyone, okay? Nat, we have a son– you aren't home half of the time! I have to take care of him. Please, Natasha.” you were thankful she put the gun away, but she still had the knife pressed against your body. “Thank you. I'm sorry, I- I shouldn't have said I'd marry someone else. I'm sorry Natasha—” “turn around.” you look up at her with a confused look, “what?” without letting you process any of what she said, Natasha grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over. You heard the knife clatter on the floor as she threw it onto the ground. You lay flat on your stomach on the bed. “God, you're so fucking annoying.” she quickly slid your pants off, leaving your legs exposed. “Natasha..” you stopped yourself from complaining. She was already upset, you didn't want to upset her more.

You felt her palm roughly hit your ass, causing you to slightly wince. “Count for me, kotenok.” she whispered as she sent another smack to your skin, “o-one.” she grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your face off the mattress. “Recount for daddy sweetheart.” you nodded as her hand hit your ass once more, “one.. t-thank you daddy.”

She traced the hem of your panties, chuckling slightly when her finger came in contact with damp fabric. “You got all worked up over that?” you didn't answer her. She slid her fingers against your inner thighs, relentlessly teasing your sensitive areas. “N-Natasha I..” she tore off your panties and tossed them on the floor. Your words get cut short with a muffled moan as she rubbed her fingers through your slippery folds, slamming your face against the mattress. “mmnh..” her touch felt like fire on skin, burning you up. “Tell me.. do you want daddy to fuck you?” you felt her press her fingers on your slit, gathering your slick and spreading it all over your cunt. “Nata– daddy please.” you didn't know if you were begging her to stop or to keep going.

“Get up.” you bit back a whimper and sat up on the bed. You watched patiently as her hands went to discard her jeans and boxers. Your eyes go straight to look at her thick, hardened dick. “Well?” you turn your gaze away from her. “Are you that dumb?” she sighed as she gripped onto your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. She pulled your face closer to her length and shoved a few inches inside your mouth. “mmph—” she buried her hand into your hair and pushed further into your mouth. “Be a good little bitch and suck.” you rolled your eyes and flattened your tongue along the veins of her cock.

She guided your head around her dick, shoving it deeper into your mouth. You slightly gagged as her tip hit the back of your throat. “Take it all in, baby girl.” her breath labored as your tongue teases and sucks her length. “Fuck..” her grip on your hair tightened as you sucked her cock vigorously, drool dripping down from your chin.

You didn't want this. She didn't care for you, but it felt so natural like it was meant to be. Like you were meant to be hers. But she wasn't yours, was she? She was yours too. You just didn't know. She didn't want you to know.

Your head bobbed up and down rapidly as her dick popped in and out of your mouth. “oh God!” her head threw back as you sucked harder on her girthy length, sinking it deeper and deeper into your mouth. It was then that she thrust her hips forward and her tip pushed back into your throat, causing you to gasp for air as you choked on her length and tears to spill from your eyes. “mmnph!” she didn't stop fucking your throat, her hand buried into your hair as she forced her cock deep into your mouth. “Fuck– I'm gonna cum in that slutty little mouth of yours. Take it.” you hear her say, and you felt two ropes of thick cum release into your mouth.

She pulled her length out of your mouth and brought her hand down to her dick and began pumping. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.” you could tell from her voice that she was close, you closed your eyes shut as her cum sputtered all over your face. “Shit..” she moaned softly as she came on your face. She lowered her hand down to grip your face, “daddy's sorry for having to ruin such a..” she examined your fucked out face, her cum and your saliva dribbling down the corners of your lips, tears rolling down your blushed cheeks. “..pretty little face.” she chuckled as she tapped her palm against your warm cheek.

“Get on the bed.” you complied and got up with shaky legs and laid on the bed. Natasha walked over to the edge of the bed and pulled your legs around hers. “What do you want daddy to do kotenok?” you were about to respond, but then she slipped her hand in between your thighs, making you let out an embarrassingly loud whimper. “Daddy please.” she raised her brow up and slid her thumb against your glistening slit. A cocky smirk played on her lips as she watched your hole twitch, and your body squirm underneath her. You let out a sigh of relief as she inserted 2 fingers inside of your pussy. She quickly pumped her digits in and out of your tight cunt, stretching your walls out for her cock. “Daddy– oh my God, I'm so close!” she pulled her fingers out of your cunt, “whores like you don't get to cum this soon.” you whined as you felt her leave you empty.

She grabbed the knife and swiftly sliced off your blouse, along with your bra, leaving your chest and stomach uncovered. “Natasha put that down. Please, please, I'll do anything.” you chanted pleas and begged her to drop the knife as she gently stroked your bare skin with the metal of the knife. “Nat..” you whimpered in fear as she poked your stomach lightly with the tip of the blade. She sighed as she threw the knife onto the floor.

“Shut up.” she muttered as she roughly held onto your hips and pushed a few inches of her length inside of your aching cunt. “oh daddy fuck!” she rocked your hips back and forth whilst she shoved deeper into you, sliding inside inch by inch. “How are you still so– fucking tight after all of that?” she grunted as she struggled to fit her cock entirely into you. “mm! You're so big daddy..” she thrusted deeper inside of you, earning a moan from your mouth as it hit your sweet spot. “oh fuck– right there daddy! You feel so good inside of me..” you hesitantly grip onto her muscular shoulders as you cry for more. She leaned down to press her lips against yours, pulling you in for a slow kiss. “You drive me crazy detka..” she mumbles breathlessly against your lips. You moan into the kiss as she thrusts deeper inside of you. “nmh.. Natty!” you gasp softly as she snapped her hips upwards.

“Are you close?” she grunted as she fucked harder into you. “..y-yes.” you were surprised that you were able to respond as your nails dug deep into her skin, leaving crescent shaped marks. “Beg. Tell me why you deserve to cum.” you mentally scoffed at her, “daddy please. Please I need to so badly.. please- please- please!” she snickered at your desperation. “Fine. Do it now it you won't get to cum later.” she said as she continued pounding away at you. You scream in pleasurement as you came all over her cock, your thighs trembling as your nails scratching at her back and shoulders, hard enough to draw blood.

She continued her movements on your cunt as she rolled her hips against yours, “ngh– daddy stop..” you muttered, all out of breath. “oh.. sweetheart, I'm not stopping till I finish inside of you.” she seemed unbothered by your whines and complains, her strong hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you from moving away. “N-Natasha please.” despite your attempts of getting her to stop, the whorish moans never stopped leaving your mouth. You clawed at her back as her tip pushed up to your cervix, “Gonna cum inside you baby.. fill you all up.” she groaned when she felt your spongey walls clench around her cock. She slightly smiled as she leaned down to pepper light, feathery kisses all over your stomach. “mhm..” you were at the point where you couldn't speak properly, everything seemed like a blur, all your words came out incoherently.

Her breaths became more strained and heavy as she fucked vigorously into you, “tell.. tell me you want me to cum inside you.” she breathed out, clear sweat glistened on her forehead. “I wan’ you to.. ” your mind hazy as you barely finished speaking. “You too tired to speak detka?” she chuckled, “no– Nat cum inside me.. please.” her lips curled into a small smile. “Whatever you say moya lyubov.” she said as she came deep inside of your cunt, painting your velvety walls white. “Fucking hell..” she panted as she laid against your limp body. “Natasha pull out.. ’m too sensitive.” she placed her lips over yours, softly kissing your plump lips. “Okay..” she whispered against your mouth as she slowly pulled out.

“Natasha..” you mumbled out her name, “yeah?” you weakly grasped her hand. “Stay.” her gaze softened as she lightly squeezed your hand. “Detka you know I can't.” tears pricked your eyes, “stay. Natasha, please.” you could hear your voice cracking as you spoke. “Please.. darling, I need you home. We need you home.” she wasn't going to stay. She'd leave like always. Right? She wouldn't listen to you. The thoughts spun in your head, “okay. Just this once.” your hand fell from hers. She was going to stay. “I can't let them find you two.” you furrowed your brows, “who?” she smiled and kissed your forehead. “Nothing. Go to sleep baby.” she dodged your question, but you were too tired to argue with her.

“Lay with me?” she nodded and lies down next to you. Snuggling her chin in the crook of your neck, “I love you.” she said as she pecked your cheek. A smile appeared on your lips when you felt a squeeze at your waist. “I love you too.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

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chimcess · 3 months

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Waterlog || pjm (1)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, Age Gap!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 17.4k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: discussions of significant death (does not happen in story), talks of a bad car accident, talks of drunk driving (please drinking responsibly), more than likely wrong swimming terms and poor understanding of how the Olympics actually works (I did so much research, pls be nice to me lol), strong language, lots of mental health discussions, reader has mommy and daddy issues, Older reader, Jimin is a complete sweetie, the tamest chapter of them all A/N: Well, well, well, look who came back. I first wrote Waterlog back in 2021, and while I enjoy the premise, I hate the finished product. I wanted to go back and edit/fix what I originally had, but when I tried it became so different, I was better off rewriting the entire thing. I hope you guys like this mini-series. If you would like to read the original go to my blog archive. Thank you for reading!

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Staring at the pool, I managed to calm myself with relative ease. Jin had been right, physical therapy had made things easier. The water glistened prettily in the lights, and I waited with bated breath for my trainer to come in.

Emery was a sweet guy, pretty with a lip ring and tattoos, but with a surprising amount of shyness it was laughable. His softness was offset by his powerful muscles, and I enjoyed his never-ending sense of humor. Unlike Dr.Maddox, Emery treated me like I was a normal person. Not an Olympian who almost lost her leg in an accident, or the woman whose fiancé died. I was just Y/N, and it was a relief to be around him.

Running my fingers along the scars on my leg, I mindlessly drew patterns around them in the silence. It was not normal for Emery to take this long, but his assistant had said he was running behind due to another patient, so I was unbothered. I had planned my entire day around this, so I was in no rush.

Finally, the door swung open revealing a disheveled Emery. Breathing heavier than usual, he rolled his eyes at me in frustration before saying his pleasantries. Whoever it had been had gotten him worked up.

“Rough morning?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

“I shouldn’t say this, but I hope that woman never comes back here.”

I laughed, “We all have that someone. Don’t feel too bad.”

Shaking his head, I could tell it took restraint on his part not to rant and rave about the woman who had left. Emery and I were more friendly than most. I had been seeing him for over two years now, but we still kept a semblance of a professional relationship. Especially Emery.

“How’s the kids?” He asked, making small talk as we started getting ready for a swim.

I was the coach of a high school swim team in town, something I talked about quite a bit, and Emery always liked hearing about. He was a great water polo player but chose to go into physical therapy while he was in college. After seeing one of his friends get injured and how much physical therapy had helped him, Emery decided to change his major. Four years later, he says he could never see himself doing anything else.

“They’re doing well,” I said honestly. “We got a couple of freshmen on the team, but they’re doing a lot better than I thought they would.”

Emery hummed, offering me assistance getting into the pool. While walking had been mostly figured out, the obvious limp aside, I still had some trouble with getting in-and-out of things. Even my bathtub had to be switched out since I was unable to step over it. I still used the medical chair while in there, too.

The water was cool against my skin, and I felt instantly relieved. The dull aches and pains left as soon as I got into the water. Swimming to my usual spot, I waited patiently for Emery to join me.

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

Going to the edge of the pool, Emery grabbed a set of barbells and handed them to me. Taking them, the two of us went over the workout plan for the day. Pulling himself up on the pool’s edge, Emery picked up his stopwatch and told me to begin.

Getting on the interstate, I sang along to the radio as I made my way to Hoseok’s. The two of us had been friends since high school, our mutual love for swimming making it impossible to keep apart, and only growing with time. He was one of my biggest support systems after the accident. Both of us had retired years ago now, but I remembered our days as Olympians fondly. Those were the best years of my life.

A small group of our friends were getting together at his house to watch the summer Olympics this afternoon. The women’s swimming finals were happening today, and I knew two of the girls competing. Turning on my blinker, I quickly got off the interstate.

Pressing around my car’s radio screen, I went to my contacts and pressed Andy’s number. She was off today and in charge of getting everything together. Hoseok had tried to do it himself, but always seemed to forget who should do what and ended up buying everything himself. She picked up after the fourth ring.

“What’s up, sugar?” Andy greeted, her voice soft and light. Her Memphis accent was thick and brought a smile to my face. Everyone had made jokes about her being southern when we first met. “Don’t tell me you’re missing Nationals.”

I shook my head even though she could not see me.

“I’m on my way,” I replied. “What should I pick up? I completely forgot.”

Andy sighed, “You’re just as bad as Jin.”

Seokjin was Andy’s husband. The two of them had been together whenever they moved to Colorado, married before I ever met them, and became quick friends with Hoseok when they moved to the Springs. That was how I had met them. Whenever their daughter Dani was born, Andy had asked me to be her Godmother and I sobbed in her lap. They were my closest friends next to Hoseok. Jin was indeed very forgetful, though, and the jibe made me chuckle.

“Cut me some slack,” I argued. “I’ve been working out for two hours straight.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Just get some pizza or something. We’re picking up some wings and Hobi’s in charge of the drinks. Minho and Tilly are bringing… something. I don’t even know anymore.”

Fully laughing now, I saw a Little Ceasars up ahead and got into the correct lane. Minho and Matilda were loose cannons when it came to our parties. While sweet, and fiercely loyal, I found myself wondering why I hung out with them at times. We were night and day personality wise, but I loved them dearly. Minho would probably bring some Korean side dishes from home, and Matilda would pick up a few packs of ramen from the store. Andy was stressing over nothing again. I hoped she was getting proper rest on her days off.

“I’m at Little Caesars,” I told her, parking my car. “I’m going to get the basics. How many things of Crazy Bread should I get?”

She thought for a second before replying.

“Five?” She was definitely unsure about her answer.

It was hard to gauge just how hungry everyone would be, and Jin was a bottomless pit.

“Sounds good,” I said instead, already thinking about getting more.

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

“See you, Andy,” I unplugged my phone from the charger.

Pressing it to my ear, I pressed my start button and turned it off. I climbed out of my car and started walking to the store.

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

“Love you, too,” I replied. Opening the door, a worker greeted me with a smile. “I’m about to order.”

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I gave the worker an awkward smile before telling him my order. I ended up getting seven bags instead of five. Just in case. Dani really liked the stuff and Jin could smash an entire bag by himself. While I waited for the cheese pizza to come out of the oven, my phone started ringing.

“Hello?” I answered, unable to check the caller ID while the cashier shoved the crazy bread into my arms.

“I heard from a little bird that you’re thinking about competing again.”

I grinned and thanked the cashier as she handed me my other pizza.

“Hello to you, too, Frank,” I replied. “And your little birdie wouldn’t happen to be Hoseok, would it?”

Frank and Sarah Boone had become a part of my life after the accident. They ran a local support group to help those affected by drunk drivers to get connected with resources and therapy. The two had lost their son when he decided to drive home drunk from a party and used the group as their own coping mechanism. They were wonderful people and owned their own joint coffee shop and bookstore in Denver.

“Won’t say names,” He chuckled, “But it might have come from a certain part-timer. So, is it true?”

I placed the boxes in the passenger seat and rounded my car. This was not a conversation I was expecting to happen today. I had brought up the idea to Hoseok since the Olympics were coming up next year, but I was not committed to it. I was enjoying my new job coaching and did not think I was in any condition for competition. When he brought up the Paralympics I laughed. Those competitors were in better shape than I was, and I doubted I would qualify. I was disabled but my disability did not (as far as I knew) carry over into the pool.

“I was just talking shit, Frank,” Backing out of the parking space, I put in Hoseok’s address and started to drive. Switching over to my car’s phone, I put my phone down and looked at the road. “You know I’m happy with my life right now.”

He made a grunting noise that told me he did not really believe me. No one did. All of them were sure I was miserable about my career ending far before its time, and while that may be true, I felt more loss about the life I was supposed to have than winning medals. I missed Namjoon more than any medal. Frank and Sarah understood that.

“I know that,” He cleared his throat, and I could hear the congestion. Frank had come down with a nasty case of walking pneumonia two weeks ago and was still recovering. “Just got a little excited is all. It would be nice to see you putting yourself back out there.”

It would be nice to see myself back in the pool, I could admit that. I had dreams of it at times. Being a competitor was a part of who I was. From the first time my dad took me to my swim classes when I was six all the way until I claimed my eighth Olympic medal, everyone had said there was nothing I hated more than losing. I was fiery, free-spirited, and kept my eyes on the prize. It was the thing Namjoon loved about me the most. That made me frown.

“I left a champ,” I forced a laugh. “Need to save some gold for the rest of them.”

Hiding behind humor was a pastime.

Frank laughed, oblivious to the hollowness in my tone. “Heard they have a new guy taking your place.”

That made me snort, “He’s not taking my spot. Totally different competitions, my friend.”

“Winning gold like you, that’s for damn sure.”

It must be Jimin Park. The kid turned up on the scene a year after my accident. He was a very, very talented swimmer. Fast as a bullet with the best butterflies I had ever seen, Park was a force to be reckoned with in the men’s league. It was a joy to watch him swim and this year would be his first Olympics. Hoseok and I were very excited to watch him.

“If you’re talking about Park,” I chuckled. “He’s far from new. He’s been competing for a few years now. First Olympics, though.”

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

Truthfully, I did not know how old he was. I remember the buzz around how young he was when he first broke out on the scene. He was eighteen when he took home gold all season before a family emergency took him out of the Olympics last minute. No one knew what really happened, but his team had said his brother was in an accident, tragically losing his life, and Jimin was prioritizing his family. He’s competed every year since and with the Olympics next year, I was certain Park would be there. He deserved it.

I was parked in front of the house now and from the cars outside, I was the last person to arrive. Frank and I talked for a few moments. It was cute how much he had learned about swimming so we could be buddies. Sarah was the only person who recognized my face when I first started going to the meetings and her husband was determined to get me to open after weeks of sitting in bitter silence in the back.

We hung up after I promised I would make it to the meeting next Thursday. Frank was not happy about me skipping the past two weeks, but understood I was taking some time to myself. My boys were going to compete this year, I had fought tooth and nail for that funding, and the extra hours at school were exhausting. Jeremy and Evan showed promise, but they knew how to drive me up the wall with all of their simple mistakes.

As I suspected, the party was in full swing. Matilda and Minho were laughing loudly on the sofa, Hoseok sporting a beer in the recliner next to them, and Dani practicing her gymnastics in the middle of it all. I could hear the commentators talking animatedly about the girls, who they believed would come out on top and highlights from the night before, but I never really paid them any mind.

“Pizza’s here!” Minho boomed, practically running to greet me.

I laughed, handing over the boxes, “Need help carrying the rest in.”

Matilda offered, happily taking my car keys and leaving the house. Minho had disappeared into the kitchen. Dani spared me enough attention for a smile and wave before launching into excited pleas for me to watch her new moves.

“Super cool, babe,” I smiled sweetly after her handstand. Dani was not particularly good at gymnastics. She started later than the other girls, rarely did anything she was actively afraid of, and hated her coach. Andy was already looking for a better gym, but I just thought she should start pointing her in another direction. Dani loved dancing and she would be a wonderful ballerina or figure skater if given the proper training. The Kim’s, however, seemed fine watching her deal with gymnastics and cheerleading. “You’re getting better.”

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

Flipping the right way around, her hair coming out of its messily tied bun and falling down past her shoulders. Brown, loose waves made her look so much younger than her eight years, her small stature only selling the illusion even more. Her skin was smooth, and she always looked as though she had been playing outside in the sun, a constant tinge of pink beneath her sandy skin. Her features favored her father, large eyes, long face, and plush, pillow-like lips, but after meeting Andy’s parents, I could see her grandmother hidden within the mischievous glint in her eyes and too small ears.

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked.

She continued to babble away as I made myself more comfortable, kicking off my shoes and tossing my hat onto the small buffet table that sat above the shoe rack. Matilda came back inside, her arms filled with bags of bread, and I took two from the pile. With a thankful, thin-lipped grin, she also complimented Dani’s moves before disappearing around the corner in the direction of the kitchen.

“Dani,” Hoseok seemed to have finally grown tired of hearing the girl talk. I would imagine this was all he had been hearing since he arrived. “Do you want to color with me?”

The little girl clapped happily, her eyes bright and shining, before abandoning her mat to gather a few coloring books and her massive hoard of crayons. Hoseok looked at me then, a sly smile on his face before winking. I chuckled and shook my head. He always did that to make her shut up.

I left the living room before Dani came back. I loved her dearly, but I could admit she talked too much. It was a good thing for a kid her age to be so social but that did not mean I wanted to hear her every waking thought. Andrea and Seokjin were the only parents in our little group, and I imagined it would stay that way for a while. Even if my dreams of children were still alive, I did not have anybody I wanted to take on that responsibility with.

Minho was eating the pizza, as expected, while Matilda had already claimed her own bag of Crazy Bread. Andy and Jin were snuggled up at their dining table, his arms securing her to his chest, and she curled into him. I loved watching them together. I had grown up in a house with two people who hated one another, barely kept up a facade of civility before my mother skipped down to be with her new boyfriend in Florida leaving my dad and I behind in Pennsylvania. We made it work but things were never the same after that. It made me happy to know little Dani would feel the love radiating in her home as she grew up. I had never seen two people so enamored with one another in my life- not even Namjoon and I.

“How was therapy?” Minho asked after we exchanged pleasantries. “Hoseok said you were talking about competing next season.”

I laughed in disbelief. That man did not know how to keep his mouth shut. I said the same thing I told Frank over the phone, and he scoffed. Minho never truly laughed, if I was honest. It was always a snicker, scoff, or chuckle. He was a man of little words and even fewer outbursts of joy, and I found his versions of those things just as reserved as the rest of him. He was the most expressive when he smiled, but those were just as rare as a genuine laugh. Dani managed to squeeze more out of him than anybody else.

“Stop meddling!” Andy scolded the other man from her spot in Seokjin’s lap.

“Never,” My friend replied, amusement clear in his voice.

“Never!” Dani echoed, voice louder than Hoseok’s. She was giggling happily alongside him, and I rolled my eyes. He was her favorite. “Never!” She repeated again, pleased when Hoseok laughed. “Never!”

“That’s enough,” Jin’s voice was even and smooth.

Dani did not shout again but we could all hear her and Hoseok attempting to cover up their laughter. Andy smiled fondly. Their little friendship had warmed her heart. After Dani, Andrea had been diagnosed with cervical cancer. It had come back six times before her doctor said she needed to get a hysterectomy. She grieved the children they would never have, the large family she dreamed of stolen from her, but once Dani was old enough to walk, she had been glued to Hoseok’s hip.

Hoseok for all he spoke about never wanting children, he adored Dani. His family was small, he and his sister the only children, but they were extremely close. She lived in New York City as a fashion designer and got married last year, and I always had the feeling Hoseok felt lonely without her. Dani was a welcome break from routine and made him feel special. It was sweet but I hoped my friend would find someone to share his life with someday.

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

It was a great day for the U.S. Opal Simmons was one to look out for. She was the oldest woman on the team, a shocking 24, but she could out swim a vast majority of them. Her freestyles were amazing, earning her a gold with Japan just a few points behind. I was hopeful she would be able to come out on top in her distance swim. While not the fastest in the pool, the girl knew how to pace herself. The cameras cut to the shot of one of her coaches smiling triumphantly at the performance.

He was a good friend of mine, Oswald Bunch. He had been heavily involved with the Olympics for years now, promoted to one of the lead coaches back in 2020, but I remembered when he was still competing. A few years older than me, Ozzie was known for his backstrokes and long-distance swimming, and we bonded whenever we got the chance to meet in London back in 2012.

That was my first Olympics. I was a fresh-faced 20-year-old on a mission. My team at the time was stoked to have me around and I was excited to be there. I had built up a solid reputation over the course of two years, winning seven medals my first adult-competitive season, and the high was incredible. Back then, I was always the one to beat at the breaststroke and therefore, the medleys were in my favor as well. I walked away with 4 golds that year, and again in 2016. The accident happened a year later, but I left the competitive world with 8 gold Olympic medals and 19 world champion gold medals. Katie Ledecky held the record now, but for a time, I was the most decorated female swimmer in history. I was excited when I was finally passed up, happy for the younger woman.

Ozzie was the man, but sadly never got out of Michael Phelp’s shadow. It was not his fault. That man was insane in the water and would become the most decorated Olympian ever. Bunch was a great swimmer, but I did not know a single person who could compare to Phelps. Hoseok, maybe, but he only had 12 gold medals. Phelps had 23.

“Simmons looks great out there,” Hoseok praised, a large smile on his face.

“Her butterflies could use a little work,” I murmured back, already seeing how I could fix it with some extra exercises. “It’s slowing down her freestyle. What else is she scheduled for?”

“I think she’s doing the 200-meter freestyles and the medley relay,” He replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Bunch is banking on her pacing.”

“She won’t win those,” I was positive. “She’s just going to get tired. Breaststrokes are obviously not her thing.”

He laughed, “You’re the breaststroke queen, Y/N. No one's as good as yours.”

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

“Never said she wasn’t,” He sipped. “Her freestyles are killer. Girls could never beat you in breaststroke or a medley. You’re untouchable there.”

It made me smile despite myself. Hoseok was right, those were my competitions. Even if Katie had surpassed my record for most gold medals ever, I still had more Olympic medals than she did, and they were in completely different events. I could have kept my title had the accident never happened. I would have. Even if we were friendly, Ledecky would have been my competition, and I would have fought hard to keep the record.

“What’s Jimin doing this year?” Matilda asked as the women’s scores were posted. Opal would be a strong contender. “Anyone know?”

I nodded, “I haven’t watched every competition, but he’s sticking to what he does best. Didn’t he swim the 200 yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok replied. “He’s skipping out today and doing his individual tomorrow. Swimming back-to-back after that. Kid’s a fucking animal in the water.”

I couldn't agree more. As I stared at Opal’s smiling face, her pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes, I wished I had been able to watch Jimin instead. She was cold and impassive even with a large, perfectly white grin that took up most of her face. In fact, I found her quite boring outside of the water. No flair or features that set her apart. Just a tall, well-built blonde with a nice smile. Ozzie would have to work hard to make her memorable.

“Simmons did well,” I yawned. “It’s getting late, though, and I have work in the morning.”

The goodbyes were quick, and Dani made me promise to take her roller skating soon. There was a girl at school making fun of her and she wanted her “super cool” and “famous” aunt to tell them off. We all laughed, and I told her we could go this weekend after gymnastics practice.

My drive home was uneventful. It was already dark out, something that bothered me more than I would ever admit out loud, and I never turned on the radio. I preferred to drive in absolute silence, eyes and ears glued to the road. I had only started talking on the phone recently.

I was much worse after the accident. I refused to get inside of a car for weeks and if I did, I was a mess. No one was allowed to be a distracted driver either. No radio, no phone, no conversations. Nothing. Jin had been the default chauffeur during that time and put up with my anxiety better than the others.

It was close to a year before I tried to sit in the front seat again. Another five before I got behind the wheel. For hours I would sit in the garage with my hands on the steering wheel staring off into the distance. I was still in a wheelchair for most of my daily activities and a very obvious limp made me too self-conscious to be seen. Isolating was easy. Keeping the others away was more difficult.

My drives started with me just backing out of the driveway. I went around the block a few weeks later, hands shaking and Andy trying her best to soothe me in the passenger seat. I did not drive past the Whole Foods two minutes away from my house until after the second year. Things were easier after I ditched the wheelchair and got more open to the idea of therapy.

Moving out of Denver was the best decision I ever made, the Springs were easier to drive in and the traffic was not as awful. Andrea and Jin bought in Black Forest once I was settled in Briargate, so loneliness was never an option.

Matilda almost moved in after the housewarming party Andy threw for me. She said it was far too big for one person and the neighborhood was to die for. I laughed her off at the time not really wanting to admit how nice it sounded.

Nestled in Fairfax, my house was a beautiful piece of architecture. The striking brick and wood front exterior provided a warm welcome, with teal trimmings bringing a fresh feeling to the otherwise plain color scheme. With five bedrooms and four bathrooms, I dreamed of the day I was able to fill them all. A dream that I hoped would come before I hit 35.

Pulling up to the house, I waved to Chika next door. The old woman raised her hand, still nursing a large mug of what I assumed to be tea and smiled. They were lovely people and we often helped one another out whenever we could. Chika liked to bring over food if she cooked and I paid my landscapers to keep with their lawn.

“Late night?” Chika called out from her front porch.

“Went to a friend’s house,” I replied.

“Good,” She meant it. “Glad to see you getting out of the house.”

I smiled but was not sure how well she could see my face in the dark.

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

I showered quickly and sipped on a cup of chamomile tea before heading off to bed. After taking my night medications, one to force myself to sleep while the other blocked the never-ending nightmares, I climbed into bed. I was able to play a single game of solitaire before they both kicked in. I fell asleep with the sound of gentle rain humming in the background.

“Let’s go, guys!” I yelled, blowing my whistle.

The twelve boys waited, their small talk coming to an abrupt end. We had just finished warming up and I allowed all of them a short water break. I was a huge advocate for rest periods. No one needed to pull a muscle or fatigue early due to over working. I had a 2800-yard routine prepared, 800 of those done during our warm-ups, and the rest divided between our main set and cooldowns.

Jordan, our captain, was smiling happily. He was such an excited kid, and his positivity was contagious. While some of the boys were disappointed when I first chose him to replace our old captain after his graduation, I was sure his spirit would do everyone some good. It did not take long for the others to come around and he was beloved.

“Alright, so we have a 1600 main set. In between each of our reps, we will be doing a switch out of easy breast and backstrokes. Clear?”

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

“Alright. That's what I like to hear,” Flipping through my clipboard was more for show than anything. I used to rely on it heavily when I first started teaching since brain damage messed with my short-term memory, but I had been doing this long enough to know what was happening. Now it was just a way for me to write notes about their performances. “We’re starting with a 4x100 with 15-second rest; the first 25 butterfly. 3x100 with 10-second rest; again, first 25 butterfly. Following?”

No questions were asked, and a few guys voiced they were good for me to keep going.

“Good. Then we have a 2x100 with 5-second rest. First 25?”

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

“Thank you, Abbot. Okay, and we’re finishing up with 8x50 freestyle. Fast and easy.”

All twelve of them began to prepare to take their mark. One by one they stood on their blocks and waited for me to make the call. I admired them all for a moment. You could see the difference in each one of them. Those who were confident stood tall, their shoulders squared, and head held high. Newcomers were still figuring out their place on the team but were eager to prove themselves. Two of them would be leaving us this year, Gabriel and Marcus, and neither one of them were continuing to swim after graduation. It was a sad thought, but I was happy with how they carried themselves. They had both come a long way.

“Take your mark,” My voice echoed. Each boy got into their starting position as I watched them like a hawk. One of the freshmen, Phineas, needed major work on his form. I would talk to Jordan about it. Grabbing hold of my stopwatch, I took a deep breath. “Go!”

Marcus was the first in, like always, and I ignored him. I knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself. Phineas was the weakest link in my chain right now. He was struggling, his arms growing tired and his speed nonexistent. The other freshmen, Tobias, or as the guys called him, Twig, was not much better. He had more strength, but I chopped that up to his size. I would need to really start working some more beginner drills to get them in shape. Jordan and Gabriel would be more than happy to give up a Saturday or two to help out.

Marcus was the first one finished and I marked his time. Still a tenth of a second faster than Jordan. After Jordan came Gabriel and then Joseph and Anthony. I was disappointed in Jett’s time, but I would invite him to the weekend practices with the others. He needed some foot and hip exercises. Twig came in before Phineas, but every other boy was already out of the water by the time they made it back. Phineas was visibly upset, and I made a note to pull him to the side after practice to cheer him up.

Practices typically lasted two hours and the boys swam hard. Phineas did, in fact, perk up after I told him I was noticing tons of improvements in his performance. Twig just seemed happy he was not the worst guy in the water. After talking it out with Jordan, we decided on a good weekend time for extra practices, and I stayed behind to print off a poster and signup sheets for the rest of the boys. I had a feeling almost everyone except Marcus would show. He had a part-time job now and his weekends were full.

Sitting in my office, I poured over my observations and timecards. With a team this large I should have an extra set of hands to help with timing. I sent an email to the principal asking about helpers and got back to the nitty gritty.

All of them could work on something. Phineas might have needed the most work, Twig not far behind him, but my most seasoned swimmers had room for improvement. Jett was still struggling with maximizing propulsion, Anthony and Milo needed to get better water balance, and Gabriel’s pull could be better. Even my best swimmers, Jordan and Marcus, could use a bit of refinement in technique. It was nitpicking but they were too talented to give up on their potential.

It was close to nine when my phone began to ring. I knew it could not be any of my usual calls. Andy was working nights this week and Jin was fast asleep at home with Dani. Minho was in bed by eight, Matilda would never bother me this late, and Hoseok hated phone calls. Checking the caller ID, I was shocked to see Ozzie’s name.

“Hello?” I answered tentatively, afraid he might have called me by accident.

“Otter,” Ozzie greeted me happily. He seemed so delighted that I answered, I smiled even though I hated the nickname. “How’s life going?”

I chuckled, “Rockin’ and rollin’. Saw your girl last night. Looks great, Oz.”

“Appreciate it,” He was so dismissive of it I became interested. This was not a catch-up phone call or else he might have hooked onto the bait. My stomach twisted in anticipation. If it was not for pleasantries, then it was for work and that was something to be excited about. “Still teaching high school?”

“Mhm,” I fiddled with my pencil, papers forgotten. “My boys team is strong. I only have three girls that signed up so we’re just training during P.E. and hoping some more join.”

We chatted a bit more about the team. The longer it went on the more knots I had. Oswald was fishing for something, and I wanted to figure out what. After telling him about Phineas, I asked what the random call was about.

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

“Alright, you caught me,” Ozzie sighed. “Look, the Olympic team is looking for another assistant coach and your name came up a few times.”

My mouth went dry. I had heard about Tiara Marsh leaving to focus on her family. She had a baby and stepped down a few months after coming back from maternity leave. I respected the decision and messaged her my congratulations. Ozzie had taken the lead coach position three years ago with Todd Packer as his partner. The other assistant, Drew Jones, was a sweet girl from what I heard and working with her would be a dream.

Still, it was an impossible task. Trying to imagine myself on the sidelines, coaching the next big names in sporting history with a massive squad behind me made my stomach queasy. I doubt any of them respected me. My leg was ruined, my career burned out just as quickly as it started, and I never had the chance to reach my peak. Now I am a 30-year-old washed up recluse. Just thinking about the media frenzy made my breathing get a little heavier.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Oz,” I murmured.

“I told them you wouldn’t go for it,” He replied, unsurprised. “They’re going to approach Storm Kline instead.”

“Oh,” Now I was confused. “Why’d you bring it up then?”

“Because I got to thinking,” I braced myself. Ozzie was known for his big, bright, dumb, impulsive ideas. “I knew the Olympics would be asking too much of you. Cameras and interviews are the last thing you want after the fucking circus you went through last time.”

That was an understatement. Circus did not even begin to describe the absolute hell the media put me through after the accident. So many speculations and insensitive remarks managed to ruin any peace I could have gotten during that time.

While I was in a coma, no one knowing if I would ever wake up again, the news thought it wise to harass my friends and family. My old coach, Victor Stanley, was assaulted whenever he left the hospital. When news got out that Namjoon was pulled off life support, his mother and father were so sick and tired of people parked outside their house they packed up and moved away before I even woke up. I wanted nothing to do with the media after that.

“It’s a little different but I think you’d be a great fit for the job,” Ozzie continued. “One of my boys, Jimin Park, is in need of a personal coach. His mom is sick and he’s wanting to stay in Michigan for as long as he can before coming out to the Springs to start training for Paris.

“I almost called Jung, but I don’t think the two of them would get along well enough for this to work. You’re the only person I know I can trust with him, and from what I’m hearing, you’re one hell of a coach already.”

This was somehow even more nerve wracking than the assistant position. I had never trained one-on-one before, at least, not long term. I was sure I could do it, but a high schooler was very different from an Olympic athlete relying on me to keep him in shape for the season.

“What happened to Hamilton?” I asked, still unable to wrap my head around the situation. “I thought he was Park’s personal trainer.”

“He was but the two fell out when Jimin decided to stay in Michigan. You know how Matt is.”

That I did. Matthew Hamilton was a massive asshole, and that was putting it lightly. He was one of the best trainers around and got results which was why he still had a job despite his rotten attitude. I had the misfortune of running into him quite a few times over the years and my distaste only grew with each passing. I could imagine that conversation not going over particularly well.

“But what about my team?” I asked, staring at my desk. All of my plans and strategies were mapped out and I was ready to put them to use. My boys were counting on me and leaving them felt wrong. “I don’t want to leave them high and dry, Oz.”

“Ask Hoseok to cover for you,” I rolled my eyes at his blase attitude.

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

I hated that I understood where he was coming from. Most of my boys would never go off to swim professionally and their skill set was not on par with anyone out right now. They were not committed to the strict regime that would take and I did not get paid well enough to justify the extra hours. Jimin, however, would pay me extremely well and I would get that experience under my belt. I might even learn a few new things to add to my own drills.

“Give me a few days to think about it,” I finally conceded. “And set up a phone call, or meeting, or something with the kid. Need to make sure we’re on the same page before we waste one another’s time.”

Ozzie laughed, “I think you’ll get along just fine, but sure. I think he’d appreciate the gesture.”

Nothing of much importance was said after that. We hung up with promises of talking soon and then I was alone once more. My office was still just as messy and swamped with paperwork as it had been before, but it all looked different. It felt like I was already gone, and a deep homesickness settled in my chest. I stared at the papers in front of me and sighed before shooting a text to Hoseok.

As I expected, everyone had told me to jump at the opportunity. Hoseok even said if I didn’t, I would be the biggest idiot he had ever met. Matilda asked if she could come (I told her no), and Dani just seemed bummed that we could not hang out anymore. Andy and Jin were the most supportive of the situation while Minho the most cautious. He was worried about the media catching wind of something and causing a frenzy. After Matila pointed out how old news I was, I felt a little less afraid of that possibility even if it was a hit to my ego.

Ozzie seemed pumped when I told him I was open to the idea if Jimin and I seemed to mesh well. I was firm in my decision to talk to him before making any concrete plans, and from what Ozzie told me, my future student was extremely receptive to the idea. I also learned that Opal was jealous of her fellow Olympian, but I tried not to let that puff up my chest.

That was why I was sitting in my home office, hair nicely styled and a light layer of makeup on waiting for Jimin to join our Zoom call. I wore blue since Ozzie said it was his favorite color, but the material was slowly driving me insane. While the color was nice, deep blue and sparkled whenever the light hit it, it was scratchy and irritated the skin around my chest and shoulders. I almost got up to change but a small icon with the letters ‘JP’ in the center popped up before I could.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

“Hey,” I replied with an awkward wave. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

Cursing under his breath, Jimin apologized for the tech issues. I adored how nice he was to listen to. It was unique, gentle and raspy, but also feminine in its softness. There was no bass or hardness, every sound and syllable light and airy with self-depreciating laughter after every insult he threw at himself. Apparently, Jimin was not great with technology and always had a difficult time with cyber meetings.

“This is fine with me,” I tried to reassure him. “I don’t need to see your face to talk.”

“No,” He agreed, “But it’s a little awkward for you to have your camera on and mine’s off.”

I could hear him clicking around. “I’ll turn mine off, too, if that helps.”

He shut that down immediately and continued clicking and typing. After a few more minutes, he found his problem. Then the icon was gone and there he was.

His face was round, his cheeks plump, and chin soft. The first thing I noticed about him was his lips. They were rounded and plump like a baby duck with a soft, heart shaped cupid’s bow that led up a small, button nose. Everything about his face was soft except his eyes which were almond shaped and flicked outwards like a cat’s. His hair was pitch black and parted down the middle, framing his face and making his pale skin look like snow. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the camera a large smile took over his face and I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

“Can you see me?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.”

Neither one of us knew what to say for a moment. He swirled around in his chair in search of his water bottle. He stood up, excusing himself for a moment. He was also wearing a blue shirt, a pair of black pants, and seemed just as nervous as I did. He left the room while I sat and thought about him.

There was one word to describe Jimin: pretty. His soft lines and tiny waist made him look so much smaller than I had imagined him. All of the years seeing him on the tv did nothing to compare to watching him walk around a little room in his home. Without a cap and goggles, Jimin was angelic, and I felt uneasy. How was I supposed to work with someone I found this attractive?

“Sorry,” He was back now, a large Yeti cup in hand. “I should’ve made sure I had this already.”

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

He sat back down, and I finally noticed the large oval necklace he was wearing. I did not know what it could mean to him, but I had seen him with it a few times at events. It was simple and silver, no gem in the center of the pendant, and sat directly over his heart. He took a sip from his cup, snapping me back to action.

“How’s your mother doing?” I asked. “Ozzie told me she wasn’t well.”

His expression saddened me, and I hated that I brought it up. I knew how much I did not enjoy talking about Namjoon’s death, and while his mother was still alive, she was not well. Unfortunately, I could not take the question back.

“I’m not sure how much you know,” He started, leaning back in the leather computer chair. “She has melanoma and isn’t doing chemotherapy anymore. I’m staying in Michigan so I can spend as much time with her as possible.”

My heart ached for him and his family. Cancer had a reputation for ripping families apart and I could only imagine how this was affecting the young swimmer. My own grief was long and drawn out, guilt and shame hanging over my head for years before I was finally able to let it go, but the death itself was swift. Joon was dead and buried before I woke up from the coma, but I could recall every detail of that hospital room when Victor told me what happened. I hated to think about watching the life slip from him, knowing he would die, and knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“I understand. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

I knew it was inadequate, but I did not know this man well enough to say my thoughts out loud. Maybe later, after a few weeks of training together, I could get the courage to let him know I would be there if he needed someone to talk to. I knew all about navigating grief and I would happily help him stay motivated through this horrible, tragic time. Jimin stayed quiet so I took it upon myself to get the ball rolling again.

“I know you’re going through a difficult time right now, and I just want you to know that I get it and I see you. If we work together, I will make sure your mental health comes first. Whatever you need, whatever your family needs, will always come before getting in the pool.

“You were working with Hamilton before this, and whatever happened between you two- I don’t know, that’s none of my business, but I can promise you I will try my best to make sure our professional relationship doesn’t reach that point. Just tell me what’s up and I’ll make it work.”

Jimin smiled a small, sad smile that paled in comparison to that blinding show of teeth earlier. My eyes could not help their roaming and I felt guilty. There was a chance we would be working together, and I could not feel this way about him if that time came. I could only hope that if we did decide to move forward with this arrangement, any affections I could have for him would get buried. I would have to talk to Hoseok about this.

“I have to take her to appointments once a week,” He replied, voice small and eyes staring at something off camera. “She’s not getting her chemo anymore but still goes to see her doctor often to manage symptoms as best she can. She also has a dance class every Sunday morning and I will be going with her.”

I nodded, “I can live with that. As long as you’re still putting in work you can take your mom anywhere.”

He took a deep breath and finally looked at the camera again. The vulnerability I found there took me off guard. Jimin must be someone who wears their emotions on their sleeve, and I would have to learn to nurture that. Namjoon always told me I needed to work on being more sensitive to others, a skill I had yet to master.

“Matt didn’t like how much time I spent out of the pool. I understand where he’s coming from but I’m hoping we can come up with a training schedule that works well for the both of us. I feel bad enough pulling you away from your life, and I don’t want my personal shit to bleed into what you’re going through.”

It was a kind gesture, one I appreciated, but he needed to get over it. I told him in so many words that I was happy to help him.

“Trust me,” I said. “If I didn’t want to do this then we wouldn’t be talking.”

Jimin seemed to like my bluntness and I was fond of his over-analytical anxiety. The way he fidgeted reminded me of Namjoon, his forward and direct confrontation of his emotions and needs so strikingly similar it made it nearly impossible for me to dislike him. I don’t think a person alive could dislike this man.

“I can be in Ann Arbor next week,” Jimin had gone on another rant about inconveniencing me and I shut it down. “Everything here is already squared away. We can discuss it more later, how does that sound?”

He smiled wearily, his nerves causing him to squirm in his seat.

“I’m really looking forward to working with you, Y/N.”

I hoped my expression looked as sincere as I felt, “I’ll take care of you, kiddo.”

Pulling a face, Jimin laughed heartily. Triumphant, I smiled brazenly, his laughter contagious. I made a note to pull out a few age jokes now and then if it meant making him smile like that.

“I’m an adult man, I’ll have you know,” He was still laughing.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

“We’re going to get along just fine,” He seemed more confident than ever, and it warmed my heart. “Let me know when you’re expected to get here. Do you have my number?”

We exchanged our contact details. After days of talking over email, I finally found a smiley face emoji in my notifications, a Michigan area code attached. Saving his number, I replied with the old woman emoji earning myself another laugh.

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

I left the meeting, my chest much lighter after talking to him. He was a sweet man and not half bad to look at. I was a few years older but not disgustingly so, and he was more than available from the sound of things. Realizing the direction my thoughts were going in, I stood up from the chair to start writing out some drills and scheduling prototypes. Before I could get out of the door, however, my phone vibrated in my hand.

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

Me: I’m flying in on Tuesday. Know a good place to stay?

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

Jimin: One of my neighbors has their mother-in-law suite for rent. I could probably cut you a good deal with them.

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart.

Me: Thank you. And no deals. I can pay for myself.

Jimin: My mother would be very upset if I didn’t at least try.

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

I laughed out loud, thoroughly amused. I had a feeling he was testing the waters after I poked fun at him earlier. Jimin was probably used to the stick stuck up Hamilton’s ass. He was in for a treat. At the pool I was cool and collected but I could cut up with the best of them.

Me: Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the sound of my hip breaking

I was practically giddy with excitement waiting for his response. It had been such a long time since someone joked around with me like this. Hoseok tried but he was awful at taking a joke, so I stopped poking the bear. It was refreshing and all too familiar.

Jimin: I’ll get you one of those life alerts just in case.

Was he flirting with me? Did I care? Shrugging, I went along with it. I would remain strictly professional while we worked together, but if things developed after that I would let them. Happily. I barely knew this guy, but I remember this feeling. It was the first time since Joon’s death that it showed itself to me and I wanted to hold onto it.

First work then play, I told myself.

Who knows? This little bit of infatuation could fade just as quickly as it came, and I would leave Ann Arbor with a new friend instead. Might even be able to score a steady job with the kid if things worked out. My life in Colorado would remain untouched, my friends happily accepting a new kid in the group when he came to visit, and my house just as bare and empty as it always had been. The years continuing to pass me by.

I tried not to think about why that thought made me want to cry.

“I told you I’m fine,” I sighed into the phone, waiting at the baggage claim for my things. “You’re in rare form today.”

Andrea laughed, the sound slightly hysterical and I winced. That was the wrong thing to say, but she was driving me insane. I had traveled around the world multiple times, and she was acting like Michigan was going to kill me.

“Well excuse me for worrying,” Andy bit back, her tone clipped and harsh.

“I’m sorry,” I heaved one of my bags off the conveyor belt. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but I promise you I’m fine Andrea. You’ll be my first phone call if that changes.”

The other bag finally popped up and I quickly snatched it. Slinging the large duffle bag over my shoulder, I adjusted it until it rested comfortably on my shoulders. Lifting the handlebar off my large suitcase, I drug it behind me while I followed the signs for the exit. Jimin said he arranged for someone to pick me up but did not specify who. He was busy with a few interviews this morning and could not get me himself. He had been very disappointed about it.

“I know I’m nagging,” Andy groaned. “Scratch that. I’m acting like a total helicopter parent.”

I laughed, “Your husband had been even worse. The man tried to book me a charter flight because he was worried about my leg in an airport. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Everyone had been super happy for me, especially my team. Those boys almost cried when I told them who I was helping out and Jordan begged me to bring him back something autographed. None of them seemed as familiar with my own background but I was fine with that. All of them took to Hoseok rather well, except for Marcus who made me swear to come back before school let out. I did not tell them I was planning to make monthly trips to give Jimin some space with his mom. I was sure that surprise would go over very, very well.

Despite his indifference when I was first talking about the job, Seokjin became an overprotective dad as soon as I made him aware my flights were booked. He was quick to cancel them and put in a few calls of his own. Jin was an operations manager for Delta airlines and knew plenty of pilots. He was able to get me a plane to land in Willow Run out in Ypsilanti, but I quickly intervened and told him a normal flight was perfect. I rebooked my tickets and flew into Detroit Metro at 10 am.

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

It was snowing in Michigan, and I was finally hit with the realization that I would be seeing far more of it here than I ever did back in Colorado. It was only mid-September, so it was still light and melted away quickly. I would have to ask Jimin if it stayed this calm into December, but I had a feeling things would pick up by late November.

It was a very cold morning in Detroit, and I was excited to get into a heated car. Getting off the phone with Andy, I quickly sent Jimin a quick text message letting him know I was outside and looking for my ride. A loud honk made my jump, almost dropping my phone in the process.

Pulled up at the curb was a navy-blue Volkswagen Beetle. I could tell from its body that it was an older model, and it was a convertible. Sitting behind the wheel was a little old lady, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands and a pair of large, hexagon sunglasses taking up most of her face. Her face was familiar, and it hit me. Sitting behind that wheel was Jimin’s mother.

She smiled at me and waved, beckoning me closer to the little car. I forced myself to smile back. My nerves made it feel damn near impossible, but I managed. Opening the door, I did not know where to put my things. The backseat was so small.

“There’s a lever on that side that’ll push it up. You should be able to get everything to fit if you try hard enough.”

Fumbling around, I finally found the little handle and pulled up. The seat lurched forward, folding in on itself, and I clumsily shoved my suitcase into the backseat. It smelled like stale cigarettes and fake pine, but when you had a car this old it usually had history. I was excited to pick up my new car from the dealership. My Porsche already had a difficult time driving around Colorado and I did not think it would survive the heavy winters in Michigan, so I decided to leave it home and get an Altima. I had the money and could easily get rid of it. Tilly had been talking about needing an upgrade.

Finally managing to get both bags into the backseat, I put the seat back and got into the car. Closing the door, I sighed in content. The heaters were at full blast and pointed directly at my cold face. Buckling my seatbelt, I leaned back and tried to relax after the long day of flying. Jimin’s mother pulled off the curb.

“It’s cold out there,” She laughed, her voice just as sickeningly sweet as her son’s. “Glad you were able to make it okay.”

I nodded, “I’m surprised to see it snowing so early. We don’t usually get anything until closer to Thanksgiving.”

“Colorado, right?” I could hear a faint accent and I remembered that Jimin was first-generation Korean American. Both of his parents moved to the states before he and his brother were born. Media outlets loved talking about it, but I was not sure how much he enjoyed discussing his personal life. While he came off as a sweet and mild-mannered man, he kept his personal life private. “I’ve heard it’s very pretty.”

“It is. Too expensive, but very, very pretty.”

Then she was fiddling around with the radio, and I finally cracked a genuine smile. I was not sure how much work had been done on her car, but I was positive the sound system had been completely redone. A brand-new radio, complete with a touch screen and Bluetooth, lit up at the touch of her fingers. A man’s voice serenaded us through the updated speakers, and I was in awe at how beautiful it sounded. I assumed he was speaking Korean and Jimin’s mother sang along fluently.

“What’s your name again?” She asked once the song was over. Another, more upbeat song started, and she increased the volume. “Jimin told me but I’m horrible with that sort of thing. I’m Na-Yeon, but Audrey works if it’s easier for you.”

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

“It’s my American name. It’s easier for people to pronounce and more convenient. All of us have one. Jimin’s is Christian.”

It was odd to think about. A name that was mine but not mine. Christian did not suit Jimin, but I could imagine growing up with a name that other people made fun of would be difficult. Maybe even impossible. Still, I did not feel comfortable calling the woman Audrey. She did not seem to particularly care for the name and I did not want to alienate myself from their circle for convenience's sake.

Namjoon’s mother had been similar to Na-Yeon, always afraid her culture and customs would make me uncomfortable or burdened, but I managed to calm her fears and reassure her after years of showing up to Chuseok with a smile on my face and food in my hands.

“I like Na-Yeon,” I finally replied, voice small. “It’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

“I like Y/N,” She echoed back to me, making me grin. “It’s nice.”

It was a long drive filled with K-pop, ballads, and sporadic conversation. Na-Yeon was very funny. She sang along to every song, dancing as she went, and calling on me to sing alone. Of course, I could not speak Korean very well and hummed the melodies instead, but it appeased her. When she did speak to me it was to ask me questions about myself.

“You’re that swimmer, aren’t you?” She asked, sparing me a look once we stopped at a redlight. “The one everyone’s trying to beat.”

I shook my head, “At one time, sure, but not anymore. I’m retired.”

Squinting her eyes at me, Na-Yeon pursed her lips.

“We used to watch you. Haru called you a mermaid.”

That was not too much of a shock. Jimin was swimming at that time. While I am a few years older than him, he would have been in middle school when I went to my first Olympics. He had told me he joined the swim team the year before. He said that watching Michael Phelps win 6 gold medals changed his life forever, and I could not help but agree with him. I had a huge amount of respect for my fellow Olympian and wished him well in his retirement. What shocked me the most was the mention of Jimin’s little brother. The dead brother.

“That’s sweet,” I did not know what to say. “I felt like a mermaid back then. I’m not that good anymore but I still like to swim sometimes.”

“You were in an accident,” It was not a question. “We saw it all over the news. Couldn’t believe all of those people harassing your family like that. So sorry for your loss.”

It was strange to talk about it again. I appreciated her keeping it vague. I had gone through a tremendous amount of change and growth since then, but it was nice to hear someone else validate how crazy the media frenzy was. I would not wish it upon anyone, and I was happy her family was allowed to grieve in peace. Neither Namjoon’s nor my own were allowed that luxury.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m sorry about Haru. I can’t imagine what your family went through.”

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

We did not talk much after that. The music still played, Na-Yeon still sang, and I still hummed, but we did not ask any more questions. Neither one of us wanted to bring up those hurt feelings. It was not until we turned down a long, empty road that I realized I had yet to ask her about her cancer.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“As good as I can,” She breathed. “My boys are both worriers so don’t take anything they say to heart. Bunch of hypochondriacs.”

And even though I laughed along with her, I knew that she was lying. They were not overreacting. She was sick, refusing treatments, and letting herself die. Anyone would be worried about her. Na-Yeon must dislike being taken care of. Well, I thought she would need to get used to it. I loved spoiling others.

“Eloise and the kids must be here,” She muttered to herself, pulling to a short driveway.

I did not know who Eloise was, but I would soon find that out. There were two cars parked out front. One was a simple, black Tahoe with a brightly colored steering wheel cover. The other was another vintage model. Painted a pretty light, muted green the truck was in pristine condition. It was an old Ford, the branding written across the tailgate, and a spare tire was bolted to the side. I asked Na-Yeon about it and she smiled happily.

“It’s Jimin’s,” I felt my heart rate increase. “He must’ve gotten back. Pretty thing, huh?”

I nodded, not really paying attention to the truck anymore. I was about to meet Jimin for the first time and my nerves were taking over. I knew how much his looks affected me over video chat and I was afraid I would not be able to control my facial expressions in person. I was resolute not to act on whatever attraction I may have felt toward him. My professionalism would not allow it. It did not mean, however, that I wanted to discuss it with Jimin at any point. It would make him uncomfortable and affect our working environment.

“Keep your bags in the car,” Na-Yeon told me. “Jimin’s going to take you over to meet the Andersons this afternoon.”

Walking up to the house, I was first struck by two things. The main one being the impressive teal it was painted and the other the loud talking and laughter coming from inside. It was odd. Thinking about my own parents I knew we had never been so happy. Mom had left when I was so young that I could hardly remember her, but I could recall the screaming and shouting. Dad was quiet after she left, spent most of his time locked away in the garage watching sports channels and leaving me to my own devices.

When I started swimming it helped for a time, but when I was old enough to leave, we spoke two or three times a year. After he met Danielle, his new wife, he stopped reaching out altogether. The accident had spooked him enough to warrant holiday and birthday calls for a time, but when he had another baby those slowly faded away. My half-sister and I had never met, Danielle did not like acknowledging that my dad had a child with another woman, and it seemed as though my dad was fine with how things turned out. I dealt with it.

The laughing echoed through the house, and I could hear loud foot-steps pitter pattering on the tile floors. The house smelled heavily of kimchi and lemons making my heart ache. Joon and I used to keep the windows open for days after his mother came over to make kimchi with him. We would squat on the floor for hours, laughing and talking. I missed those days more than I realized and I smiled involuntarily. For the first time in years, it felt like coming home.

“Sorry about the smell,” Na-Yeon whispered to me.

I shook my head and took my shoes off. “I love kimchi.”

She smiled brightly, her shoulders immediately relaxing. I was glad I had spent so much time with Namjoon and his family. Na-Yeon was someone who wanted to make others feel more comfortable even if it put her own peace at risk, but I would never ask her to change her routine for me. I loved learning about other people and her little house brought me more happiness than I thought possible.

“Sounds like we have company!”

A short, stocky man came into the living room. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts; his hair was very short with silver streaks starting to take over the once very black strands. Catching sight of me he smiled.

“You must be Y/N,” The man said. “I’m James.”

His accent was much thicker than Na-Yeon’s and he introduced himself in his English name. He seemed much happier about it than his wife did, and I decided to go along with it. If he wanted me to call him James, then I would.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving him a small bow.

His smile got even bigger somehow, and he returned the gesture. Na-Yeon chuckled beside me and started to speak to her husband in Korean. I picked up a few words and deduced that he was supposed to make sure I was going to get a nice lunch, and she wanted to know if he had taken care of it. He nodded and told her he had.

“Hungry?” James asked, Na-Yeon already disappearing into the house.

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

“I made jjigae,” He frowned. “I can’t say it in English. Sorry.”

The house was small and warmly lit. Cream tile flooring, exposed wood beams, and white walls. Whatever loud conversation they had been having before I got here had died down, but the footsteps did not. I could hear children giggling somewhere in the little home and my curiosity peaked. I did not think they were Na-Yeon and James’s.

“I want to say it’s soup,” I kept my voice down not wanting to make him feel awkward. “Or stew, but I don’t think it matters that much.”

“What’s the difference?” James asked, just as amused as his wife at my vague knowledge of Korean words. “Soup and stew the same, no?”

I shrugged, “I have no clue. I’m a miserable cook.”

That made James laugh. We passed all of the rooms in the house, the kitchen, living room, and dining room all in the back of the house. As we passed the second room to the left, James said it had been Haru’s photography studio before he passed away, but they ended up converting it once Eloise gave birth. He did not say it out loud, but I had gathered the kids running around had been their youngest son’s. I did not know how old Haru had been when he died, but it was far too young to be having children. I was 31 and still felt ill equipped for the job.

It was a small kitchen with very simple and plain colors. The countertops were obviously laminate, but someone had taken the time to stick on a marble patterning to make it look nicer. Black appliances clashed with the chestnut cabinets. The tiles were no longer cream but hideous black and white checker printed that clashed heavily against the olive-green backsplash. While the rest of the house seemed to go through renovations at some point, I had a feeling the kitchen remained largely untouched.

Sitting at a small table on the other side of the room were Na-Yeon, Jimin, and a young woman. She was a cute girl, long brown hair and blue eyes, a large number of freckles across her cheeks. Her outfit was very modest, a pair of flowy cream pants and an equally flowy olive shirt. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon that matched her pants, and taking a closer look at her, she wore no makeup. A classic girl next door.

“Come sit,” Na-Yeon waved me over, her voice showing no room for argument. “Hyun-Soo is in charge of lunch.”

I was only briefly confused, the name completely unfamiliar, but by the time I sat down I was sure she was talking about James. It made sense for her to call him by his Korean name, and since I had shown no qualms about using their proper names, she saw no need to bring them up herself.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jimin’s sweet voice reached me, and I smiled at the sound. “I hope getting here wasn’t too bad.”

He reached out to me, and I happily took his hand in my own. The skin was soft, perfectly smooth, and warm. It was over far too quickly but my displeasure was easily hidden. Andrea always complained about my poker face and how difficult it was to get past it. She said it was too good and thus refused to ever play poker with me again.

“It was nice,” I meant it. Na-Yeon was wonderful company.

“Hope the concert was nice.”

That made me and Eloise laugh. Na-Yeon smacked Jimin’s arm playfully, unable to keep the smile off her face, and the two began to bicker. Having them in the same room highlighted the differences I hadn't noticed before. Jimin’s nose was closer to his father’s, his eyes, too, and both of them had a slight lisp. Na-Yeon’s teeth were perfectly white and straight while one of Jimin’s front teeth was slightly chipped. Jimin had a dimple; his mother had none. Their English soon turned to digs in Korean and I could no longer follow. A few words here and there but nothing substantial. James joined them.

“Hi,” Eloise shyly greeted me, obviously used to being left out of conversations.

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

She nodded, “Cam and Harper are playing but you’ll meet them in a bit.”

I nodded along and cemented the names into memory. It would look bad if I forgot them and kids had an ability to remember the worst things about a person. I did not want them to dislike me this quickly. Their giggles and feet were still going, and I suspected they had their own rooms on top of the little playroom in the hall.

“What do you do for work?” I asked Eloise, hoping my attempts at small talk were going over well. The other three were still chatting and I stopped paying attention long enough to be completely lost. Their dialect was different from Namjoon’s family, and I gave up entirely once they switched in and out of it with ease.

“I’m taking over Audrey’s restaurant,” Eloise, it seemed, preferred to use their American names. I wondered if she called Jimin ‘Christian.’ I really did not like the name for him. Not at all. “We used to be co-owners but she’s preparing for…” Eloise’s eyebrows scrunched together as she struggled to come up with a way to voice her thoughts, “her next steps. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. It was so easy to forget why I was really here when Na-Yeon was so full of life. She laughed and joked easily, sang off-key in the car without a care in the world, and called the shots at home. I had hardly noticed any sickness, but I knew better. I already figured out she hated being cared for and our trip in the car could have taken a lot of her. More than I realized.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked about the kids. Eloise was more than happy to talk about her little ones. Cameron and Harper were twins, names that she had originally been very against but when she lost Tony (Haru preferred his American name, Anthony, and all of his closest friends called him Tony), her opinions changed. Harper was the bigger, older baby, while her brother needed to stay in the NICU for a few days after birth due to his weight. They were joined at the hip and rarely seen without the other, something Eloise was happy about given she was usually too busy to spend as much time with them as she would have liked.

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

Jimin was 19 then. I shuddered to think about how old Haru was, or Eloise for that matter when they became parents. When I was their age, I had been at the top of my game, though not what I would call my prime. If I had gotten pregnant my career would not have been over, but meeting Joon never would have happened. That was a travesty regardless of how things turned out. Trying to picture a life without him touching it made me physically ill and so I pushed any of those thoughts away.

Cam and Harper came out of their room when dinner was ready. They were both very cute, loud, and dressed identically. Harper’s hair was braided down her back while Cam’s was in a bowl cut, and I laughed every time the little girl made a big show about her sparkly red shoes.

James made a very spicy fish stew. It was delicious, so salty and hot, but I needed multiple glasses of water as I ate. He used red snapper adding a sweet, nutty flavor to the otherwise savory dish and I loved the zucchini. Like many Korean meals there was an array of side dishes surrounding the large pot of stew. Tonight was braised potatoes, steamed eggplant, a radish salad, and, of course, kimchi. A small bowl of rice was given to all of us to eat the stew with and the rice cooker was filled if any of us wanted more.

The Parks were a lovely family. Jimin was quiet and did not talk to me much but his mother more than made up for his silence. After getting all of the details about my coaching job she moved on to my life back in Colorado. We talked about my friends and what they were like, my house, and even my neighbors. Na-Yeon seemed particularly interested in Hoseok since Jimin had been such a fan of his growing up.

“You need to get her over to Calvin and Violet’s,” James told his son, scraping up the last bit of the soup out of his bowl. “They’re expecting her soon.”

Jimin looked at me, eyebrow raised, “Are you ready?”

I nodded, “We can leave whenever you’re done.”

He smiled and went back to eating his meal. Eloise left before I did, Cam was tired and Harper was bored without her playmate, so she decided it was time they went home. Cam liked an afternoon nap still, but his sister could run all day if you let her. Harper gave me a big bear hug before she left, something Na-Yeon said she did to everyone, and held her brother’s hand on their way out.

Na-Yeon eventually got up from the table, James followed after her, leaving Jimin and I alone. I did not know what to say, if he wanted me to say anything at all. He had hardly spoken to me since I arrived, and it left me feeling out of place. I was here for him, and he wanted nothing to do with me. He kept eating, the spice unfazed him, and getting bowl after bowl of rice.

Watching him walk around I was struck by how short he was. Most male swimmers were huge, well over 6 feet, and broadly built. Not Jimin. He could not be any taller than 5’9” with a thin, tiny waist. I could see defined muscles hidden underneath his white t-shirt, but nothing spectacular. Even his body was soft and elegant, moving gracefully and quietly, and absolutely none of it would give away that he was a world-class athlete. As if he could feel my eyes following him, Jimin’s eyes snapped to meet my own.

“Sorry,” He pulled his spoon from his mouth. “I’m sure you’d like to leave and here I am gorging myself.”

I stopped him before he could stand, “No, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking about your workout routine.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but I could hear how natural it sounded. He sat back down and took another bite of his food. His workout regime was standard for most swimmers. Pull-ups, bench, squat, lunge, power cleans, power cleans to overhead press. After that he was in the pool for a few hours before going about his day. He usually added in another swim at the end of the day, but he had recently given it up to have dinner with his family.

“What are you doing for your core?” I asked.

“I stick to pull ups, crunches, thrusts, and back extensions.”

I nodded, frowning, gears in my head turning. I have always believed the core was the most important part of swimming. Arms as well, but I have seen many overwork those muscles and lose from weak turns. Hoseok used to joke about my performance and how I only won because of my turns. I would make sure he would be able to see a little bit of me in Jimin’s swimming. There was a reason I won gold.

“You don’t look very impressed.”

I chuckled, “Just thinking. You need more variety than that.”

“Gym snob, are we?” His mouth stretched into a playful smirk, and I could not help but smile back. “You must be an animal in there.”

“I don’t work out like I used to,” I admitted, averting my eyes. “Most of my exercises are yoga and running now. I swim twice a week.”

I was hoping to get back in the pool more often, but I was not sure I was ready for the disappointment that would follow. My sessions with Emery were simple, exercise-focused, and had little to no expectations behind them. They were there to help me gain strength and confidence in myself. Saturdays were spent with Hoseok doing laps around the pool and shooting the shit. It was just enough to get your heart pumping but never went past that.

Failing was daunting. I could not remember a time before swimming consumed my life. My dad always said I was afraid of the water; it was the biggest reason he placed me in lessons. He did not have the time (nor patience) to teach me himself, and after I saw younger children getting into the pool I was determined to act like a “big girl.” I was only three at the time, so the memory was lost to time, but I went every week after that. It gave my dad a break and I had friends for the first time. I learned later that mom had left for a few months and dad was drinking again, but at the time all I knew was that I liked swimming, and I was good at it.

It was frightening to believe that all of the time, energy, and hard work went to waste. 30 seconds. That was all it took to destroy my life. 30 seconds and all of my joy, love, and happiness was gone. My career, my health, and my Joon. I hated the man who hit us. Hated the way his family cried for me. For him. For Joon. Squeeze my hands into fists, I was glad they were hidden underneath the table. Getting in the water and realizing it was truly over would only make that hatred worsen, and my therapist told me I needed to let go of my anger.

“Violet and Calvin are excited to meet you,” I did not know if Jimin could see something in his face, perhaps my eyes, but he changed the subject. The look on his face made me feel exposed. “We should get going.”

No one was around when I left so I did not get to say goodbye, but Jimin yelled that we were leaving. We did not get a response and I wondered if his mother had actually gone to do laundry or take a nap. She looked tired when she left the table. Jimin told me to get into the truck and laughed when I said I could grab my own bags.

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

Off guard, a strange, loud noise came out of my mouth. He had yet to start up our playful banter and my heart soared. Jimin was a very cheeky man, his tongue sharp, and with a quick snapback time, he was difficult to take down. Our text exchanges were always brief and about work, but he managed to squeeze in at least one teasing comment about my age. He said calling him ‘kiddo’ is what started the whole thing.

“Just get in the truck,” He sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes.

Huffing, I went across the lawn and got into the unlocked truck on the curb. The interior was just as refurbished as the exterior. The bench was covered in a dark green vinyl, and I could tell the rubber carpet mats were new. It smelled much better in Jimin’s truck. Less like cigarettes and more like the cologne he wore. It was floral, powdery, but with a subtle spice that made it bitter-sweet. It had a nice scent. It suited a man like Jimin whose own spice was buried underneath his pretty visage.

Watching him jog across the yard, I suppressed a sigh. It was easier to ignore how pretty he was when we were around other people. Now it felt impossible. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, the black leather pants (which I had only just noticed were leather) making his thighs bulge and accentuating his backside. He was gorgeous and I felt sorry that I would have to keep it to myself. Jimin deserved to be told things like that, but it was not my place to do so. Not as a coach, trainer, or otherwise.

He tossed my things into the cab of the truck as if they weighed nothing. Arms lifted; his shirt rose revealing a delicious patch of skin. Watching him in the rearview mirror, I swallowed audibly. A thin, almost nonexistent patch of hair touched his belly button. Forcing myself to look away, I took a few deep breaths.

This trip was going to be long. Very, very long.

The drive down the road was quiet. Jimin’s radio was out, and he needed to replace it, so music was not an option, and he did not seem to want to fill the space between us. Neither did I. My growing bashfulness around him was distracting and strange. I had always been surrounded by attractive men, all of my friends back home were very good looking, but none affected me in the same way Jimin had. Perhaps it was due to my relationship with Namjoon that made all of the other men pale in comparison, but I could never know for sure. Either way, it was incredibly frustrating.

We drove for less than ten minutes. Calvin and Violet were the elderly couple renting out the small house in their backyard. Jimin had spoken to them for me, and they were all too willing to help me out. Violet nearly cried when I told her I was going to pay all of my rent up front, and actually did when I told her that I would help her fix up some things around the house while I was in town. The Andersons seemed like lovely people, and I was happy to know them.

Pulling up to the house I smiled. It was exactly how I imagined it would be. The Anderson house was a simple, All-American home with a front porch. The window trimming was black, house white, and a beautiful garden wrapped around the front at either side. The roof and front door were the same color green as Jimin’s truck, and it helped the otherwise unnoteworthy home feel more inviting. Sitting on the porch swing was Violet, her silver hair braided down her shoulder.

“Before we get out,” Jimin mumbled, waving at Violet through my window. The old woman waved back, a large smile on her face making her look twenty years younger. “The Andersons are great people, but Calvin’s starting to forget stuff. Violet won’t admit it but it’s getting hard on her to deal with him. He can become very angry so keep an ear out. Last time he had an episode, Violet called my dad crying. She’s not handling it well.”

I frowned, my heart hurting, “Sure thing. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Thanks.”

He was out of the car a few seconds later, voice so sweet and bubbly you would have never guessed what we had been talking about. Staring after him, my eyes squinted. I would have to keep my eye on him. Jimin was a great actor.

Getting out of the truck, I took out my bags and slung my duffle on my back. Jimin was quick to take my suitcase away once he caught me in the corner of his eye. Violet seemed positively giddy about it and made a few inappropriate comments about Jimin needing to settle down.

“I’m just saying,” She laughed when Jimin scoffed, face flushing the prettiest shade of pink. “You’re going to make a young woman very happy. Might as well get started.”

It was strange to think about my trainee seeing someone. He had made it very clear in his interviews over the years that his dating life was on hold until he was finished swimming. He did not want the added distraction and his family life was far too chaotic for him to focus on someone. This did not seem to deter Violet and her comments about his love life, or lack thereof, continued until we got inside of the house.

“Well,” Violet acknowledged me for the first time since I arrived, “This is the main house. It’s not much but it’ll work. Christian, take her stuff out back.”

I cringed. It really did not suit Jimin at all, but he seemed completely unfazed. Violet used his names interchangeably, sometimes calling him Jimin and other times Christian, but his English name rolled off her tongue more often than not. I wondered why she even bothered calling him Jimin at all. He did not seem to care either way.

Looking around the little house, I was pleasantly surprised by how clean it all was. The floors were carpeted and the walls a bright white, family photos hung up alongside landscape paintings. During my two-hour phone call with Violet, the woman talked my ear off, she bragged about Calvin’s art. I had to admit they were all very beautiful and I wanted to know where he had found all of the slices of heaven he captured. I hoped the places themselves were more colorful than he depicted. The muted washes of color made them blend in with the rest of the boring house even with how nice they were.

The furniture was just as boring as the house itself. All of it was cream or beige, nothing of importance really stuck out to me, and I was disappointed. All I could figure out about the couple was one was an artist and they had children and grandchildren they loved displaying. Even the smell of the house lacked character. No air freshener, no food, and no perfumes. Nothing to give away that people actually lived here. The Anderson home was a foil to the Park’s in every way.

“Come on out back,” Violet was already across the house, standing in front of a door beside the kitchen. “This is the utility room. You can do your laundry here.”

Following behind her, I felt even more depressed looking at her kitchen. It was nice, new appliances and a pretty coffee station on the corner closest to the utility room door, but it was bland. All white cabinets, white marble countertops, and stainless steel everything. Even the curtains hanging around the windows above the sink were dreadfully plain.

The utility room, like everything else, was plain. The washer and dryer were white, the floor concrete, and the shelving barebones. The detergent was the most colorful thing I saw since arriving. Somehow even this room smelled like absolutely nothing. Directly across from the door we entered was the backdoor and Violet told me where they would hide a key for me to be able to get inside.

“Ready to see it?” She asked, smiling politely.

I nodded, “Thanks again for renting it out to me.”

She chuckled, “No thanks needed. You were paying, that was enough for me to say yes.”

The back porch was tiny, just barely big enough for the both of us to stand on. There was a small vegetable garden along the side of the house, but it was empty. Noticing my wandering eyes, Violet told me all about the turnips and gourds she had been planting this season. She had watermelon and tomatoes in the summer, but they were long gone. The rest of the yard was taken up by my home for the next few months.

It was small, but that was to be expected. What disappointed me, though I should have not been very surprised, was how white it was. The windows were a dark gray, a small porch was set up with enough room for one of those hanging egg chairs, and two built-in planters. They were empty and Violet told me I was welcome to give gardening a chance if I was interested. She was planning on growing some flowers eventually, but she was not sure what she wanted.

The front door was open, Jimin already inside, and Violet and I went in. There was a small entryway, two doors leading to rooms I would explore later, and a small shoe rack. I took mine off and put them up. Violet watched me and took hers off as well.

“Audrey told me I should put one in here,” I was learning that Violet enjoyed meaningless small talk. “Glad I did. Don’t think Christian took his shoes off, though.”

I shrugged, “No biggie. I was going to clean up around here anyway.”

The house opened up to my right and I was happy with the space. I had a fully functional kitchen and enough space for my coffee cabinet along the wall. The living room would be able to fit a small loveseat, television, and coffee table. It was white and plain, but I was very happy with the floors. Whoever picked out the dark vinyl flooring must have had me in mind. I would go crazy if this place was as sterile as the Andersons’.

“I put your stuff in your room.”

Turning I grinned at Jimin. It was sweet of him to help me out. I was going to pick up my car tomorrow morning and he had volunteered to drive me. We would be starting our training next week so I could have some time to settle in. All of my furniture was arriving either tomorrow or the day after and my hands would be full. I was counting on Jimin and his friends to help me unpack. His manager was going to make himself known as well, but would not be staying for long. Apparently, according to Jimin, Sejin was not one to get his hands dirty.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Violet was already scratching to leave, and I wondered why. She had been very hospitable over the phone. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner. Calvin is going to bring the air mattress out here tonight, so you have someplace to sleep.”

With a kiss on Jimin’s cheek, Violet slipped on her flats and left. Alone with Jimin again, I found it hard to speak. We were much better over text. Looking just as lost as I was, Jimin scratched the back of his neck and looked down.

“My, uh, my mom offered you her couch if you want it,” He stuttered, his face turning red. “Or, uh, um, you can take the spare room at my place,” He let out a huge gust of wind. “It’s a bit of a drive but I do have the space.”

Flustered, I quickly declined, “Thanks but I’ll be fine here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin shook his head, the redness spreading down his neck. “For sure. Totally.”

The air was awkward now and I could not figure out how to fix it. Jimin was the one always breaking the ice between us, and now that he was acting like this I was stranded at sea. Even when he warned me he was more reserved in person I had not expected this. He was so quiet and skittish. How was I supposed to work with him if I could not get the courage to speak?

“Thanks for the offer,” I cleared my throat. “Are you staying for dinner?”

He shook his head, “I promised Jungkook we’d go out tonight. Any other time I’d say yes.”

I asked my disappointment. The thought of spending time with Violet and Calvin alone made me deeply uncomfortable. Their house felt like a hospital room and her weird behavior was unsettling. I could only hope Calvin was nicer but from what Jimin said he was a ticking time bomb. It would be nice to have someone act as a buffer.

“Why was she acting so strangely?” I asked, hoping Jimin had picked up on it as well. “It was like a totally different person.”

He frowned, “I think she’s just on edge since Calvin went to the doctor’s today. Their daughter took him, and she hasn’t heard anything. She’s a sweet woman, don’t worry.”

Now I felt like an asshole.

“That’s understandable,” I murmured. “Do you think she’ll be upset if I order food for all of us? If she’s stressed out, I don’t want her feeling like she has to cook for me.”

Jimin smiled, “She would appreciate it. I’ll go talk to her, how does that sound?”

I nodded, grateful. “That would be nice. The house gives me the creeps.”

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him.

“Feels like a funeral home or something. I hate the minimalist aesthetic.”

Jimin bit his lip, “You’d probably hate my place, too, then.”

I chuckled. It was easy to imagine Jimin inside of a huge modern house, dark wood and barely anything in it. He was a single man, busy, and spent so much time at his parent’s house it did not matter what he had inside of his own place. Not wanting to make him self conscious, I bit my tongue.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He cocked his head to the side, and I laughed.

“Fine,” I conceded. “I would probably dislike it, but I don’t think it looks like a white padded cell.”

I may have been exaggerating a bit, but it was not that far off from how the Anderson home looked to me. I hoped by asking me to help fix up a few things, Violet meant giving the house a much-needed makeover. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince her to get a few throw pillows to break up the monotony.

“Jeez,” Jimin laughed. “Harsh critic.”

“Well, is it?” I joked, glad to have found our footing again.

“No,” He shook his head in thought. “It’s mostly gray and black, but still just as empty. Probably emptier, honestly. I don’t have as many pictures as Violet does.”

Smirking, he snapped his fingers, “My trophy room is pretty colorful. I have a lot of pictures and shit in there.”

That made me smile. I was not bringing any of my memorabilia here, but it was nice to hear him sound so proud of himself. I kept most of my competition stuff in my basement, a large China cabinet displaying all of my awards. My favorite had to be the small, cheaply made trophy sat at the very top. It was beside my Olympic medals, worn and dull beside the beautiful necklaces, but I loved it all the same.

It was the first trophy I ever won. I was seven and my dad convinced me to sign up for a swimming competition my swim class was hosting. He promised to come. I practiced a lot preparing for it and made use of the new above ground pool my dad had bought. I won the race. My own joy and happiness made me forget that he never showed up until it was time to go home. I had to wait with my coach for two hours, and by the end of it she felt so bad for me she took me out for ice cream. Dad never apologized, I don’t even think he acknowledged that I won at all, and I never tried to bring it up again. Still, I loved that stupid thing. It was the reason I wanted to compete. That little pocket of happiness between winning and realizing that no one cared was precious to me and I held onto it.

“I need to get going,” Jimin sighed, reaching into his back pocket and snapping me out of my thoughts. “Jungkook’s blowing up my phone. Just got broken up with and needs a drinking buddy.”

I sucked in air through my teeth, “Well, your services are needed. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Jimin smiled at me, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded, “See you.”

He lingered in the entryway for a moment more before shaking out of whatever trance he had been in. Slipping his converse back on, Jimin waved at me before walking outside. His face was buried in his phone, so he never saw me wave back. He shut the door, the sound echoing in the empty house, and I was once again left alone.

Violet came out a few minutes later to discuss take out until we finally landed on pizza. She never said thank you, but her offer to give the tip since I was paying was more than enough. Then later when a few of my boxes came in early she happily carried them to me. She even helped me put everything away. When Calvin came home, she led me back inside and said with so much affection it made my heart melt.

"Calvin, this is Y/N. Sweetest woman I ever did meet. Bought us dinner."

Calvin reminded me of Namjoon in a way. His soft eyes and gentle voice. He took my hand when I introduced myself, his hands cold and soft. Wrinkles and sunspots went up the length of his arms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," He said.

"Likewise," I replied.

We ate in silence, the three of us watching Jeopardy on the sofa. Even though I had been nervous about eating inside, Calvin's presence warmed the place up. Once a prison now felt like a poorly decorated home. A home filled with love.

As I watched them together, Calvin reaching out for Violet's hand and her giving it to him without question, I felt myself getting choked up. There had been a time I had that. Joon would be on the floor, book in his lap, while my hands were in his hair as I studied my training tapes.

I left early that night. I blew up the mattress, the house quiet, before sending out a few texts to my friends to let them know I was getting on alright. After that, I put on nature sounds to help me drift off to sleep. I had not felt this lonely in a very long time.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio

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e-hv · 2 months

Text

Why II

This is a repost cause i deleted all my fics

Major warning if you have mommy issues or daddy issues or parental neglect issues pls do not read this

and if you do read this pls don't blame me for anything, including but not limited to excessive crying/sobbing, a depression slump/ wanting to kill someone or anything else

Or if you're name Sarah

part 1

Alexia Putellas X Child!Reader

Tw: Negelct, Angst

Summary: Why did she not try

Why didn't I make the effort to acknowledge you, or even offer a simple greeting, when all you wanted was a moment of recognition?

Alexia was back from Elena’s high school graduation when she saw the Envelope on the dining table, mark with her name on it, she was going to open it when she realized it was your handwriting. She rolled her eyes thinking it was one of your notes, asking her to spend time with you or something similar. She threw the envelope into the bin and started looking through her email. The sky soon turned dark, she realized she hasn’t seen you since she came back which was unusual since you were always clinging to her like a lost puppy. She was going to order take out for both of you, when she recieved a text from Elena asking her if she wanted to celebrate her graduation with dinner, she texted her back saying yes, and called you to come down so she could give you money for your dinner. When you didn’t reply her or rush down she just left the money on the counter and went out for dinner. When she came back the lights were still on, she thought nothing of me until she saw that the money she left you was left untouched. She walked up stairs and open the door, noticing your barren room. She decided to call you, but all she heard was,

"Thank you for calling. The number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. Please check the number and try your call again. Thank you.”

Since when did your number change she thought, she wanted to ask your friends if they knew where you were but she realized she didn’t even know who they were. Then she remembered the letter that she envelope that she threw to the bin,

When she opened the envelope and read the letter, she felt empty she didn’t know why, she thought would be happy wouldn’t she after all she had been pushing you away all this time. So she set the letter down, change into her evening gown and went to sleep. But as the weeks past, she felt the empty feeling grow into a pit in her heart. She started missing the notes you left, the way you would smile when she talked to you, the warmth of your presence in the house. She missed the little moments that she had taken for granted.

As more a month flash by she started trying to look for you after all you couldn’t have gotten that for right. She decided to go to your room trying to find anything that could lead her to where youu went instead she found, a book, she then remebered that in your letter you wrote that you were excited that you made it into the school's football team. When she first read it she was confuse as she never remembered you even taking an intrest in football. But after she saw the book she realized you did indeed tell her you make it to the football team, it was also the day she was supposed to fetch you from school as you had been begging her to for a long time, so she just said yes. Hoping you would stop pestering her, she didn’t fetch you that day, and instead of giving you an explanation, she just ignored you when you told her your exciting news, and told you she would talk about it over dinner, which she also missed.

She then remembered all the other times you tried talking to her, yet she just regarded you as a pest, wanting you to just stop. How she regrets it now, as all she wanted was for you to come back through the front door and hug her telling her you change your mind. And she would make up for all the times she dismissed you. However it didn’t happen you didn’t walk in, the house was still missing your presence, and the emptiness lingered in every corner.

Alexia couldn't shake off the overwhelming guilt that consumed her. She realized how she had neglected you, how she had failed to offer even a simple acknowledgment of your existence, let alone celebrate your achievements and share in your excitement.

As she sat in your barren room, holding onto the book that held a piece of your excitement and dreams, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her own shortcomings as a mother. She wished she could turn back time, to undo the hurt she had caused you, to be the supportive and loving mother you deserved.

But no amount of regret could change the fact that you were gone, that she had lost the chance to make things right. The realization hit her like a wave, crashing down on her with a force she couldn't bear.

Tears streamed down Alexia's face as she clutched onto the book, her heart aching with the longing for your presence, for another chance to show you that she cared.

Why did I neglect the most fundamental tasks you asked of me, yet expect you to readily assist me in my every request?

She was still trying to look for you when she, reread your letter for the hundred time, she read the part where you said that you asked if you could go to the arcade with your friends and that you’ve always bent over backwards to fulfill her every request. She recalled the times, she would asked you to help her buy things before and during team building and didn’t even ask you if you wanted to join, instead reminding you that you had to help her clean up after it ended. She then remembered all the times you ask her if she could go to the beach with you, or attend your concert or events and she said she was busy.

She remembered how she always seemed to prioritize her own needs and desires over yours, expecting you to readily assist her in every request without considering your own wishes and feelings.

The weight of her negligence and selfishness hit her like a ton of bricks. She realized how she had taken you for granted, how she had failed to see the love and effort you were pouring into your relationship with her, only to be met with indifference and neglect in return.

Alexia's heart ached with the realization of her own hypocrisy. How could she have expected you to be there for her when she couldn't even spare a moment to acknowledge your needs and desires?

Why couldn’t she had just try to make time for you maybe then you would still be here with her, she thought as she was holding back tears telling herself she didn’t deserved to feel sad as it was all her fault.

Why was I consistently absent from your most significant moments, offering nothing but hollow excuses in return?

Alexia now had a routine go to training or a match and comeback home to try to look for you. The only times it ever change was when she had an away game even then, she checked the camera that she installed in the front door ( incase you came back and she wasn’t there) religiously. When she checked her phone she saw a message from Elena, she ignored it as now every time she saw it she saw a message from her she only remembers the fact that she missed your primary school graduation even though she promised you. Or the fact she always said that she had to help Elena with something and missed your milestones and important moments. She remembered all the reasons she thought was good reasons that now she realized was pitiful excuses.

All the times she said she was busy, and the way your eyes dimmed but you still hugged her and said it was okay. She wondered how much she hurt you but didn’t realized or more accurately was to busy to care.

And you... why didn't you question me when I stopped paying attention to you?

She found a photo album titled 2019 summer road trip, she didn’t remember going on any road trip before, when she opened the album she saw a photo of you in a car, she then remembered of the week she didn’t see you at all. And when she did you asked her if she wanted to ask you anything and she just ignored you thinking it was one of your antics. Turned out you had gone on a road trip for a week, and she didn’t even realized. She wondered why you didn’t ask her if she notice but you did in fact try to, as she vividly remembers you trying to tell her something but she just tuned it out and focused on her phone.

The weight of her neglect weighed heavily on Alexia as she flipped through the album, each photo a painful reminder of the moments she had missed, the moments she had failed to share with you.

She recalled the times you had tried to reach out to her, to question her absence, but she had brushed you off, too preoccupied with her own affairs to spare a moment for you. The guilt gnawed at her insides as she realized how much she had hurt you, how much pain she had caused with her indifference and neglect.

Alexia couldn't understand why you didn't push her more, why you didn't demand her attention and question her absence. She knew deep down that you deserved so much more, that you deserved a mother who would be there for you, who would prioritize your needs and desires above all else.

But instead, she had failed you time and time again, offering nothing but hollow excuses in return for your longing for recognition and acknowledgment.

As she sat there, surrounded by memories of the moments she had missed, Alexia couldn't help but feel a profound sense of regret. Regret for the time lost, for the moments she could never get back, for the love and attention she had failed to give you.

What actions of mine led you to accept the disdain from me , your own flesh and blood, to endure such neglect?

What exactly crossed my mind when I opted to engage with her instead of you, my own daughter?

Alexia couldn’t help but ask herself what exactly did she do to make you accept her negelct like it was normalcy, and maybe it was to you. Her mind settled on to the memory where she believed Elena over you, and scolded you for something you probably didn’t do. She then recalled the fact she had took the necklace back from Elena planning to give it back to you when you apologized. You never did, and that was a blessing in disguised. She rummaged around her drawer for the necklace and when she found it, she knew she didn’t give it to you that’s when she remembered in your letter it stated that you found someone that treated you like her own daughter, who was there for you when she wasn’t. She shouldn’t feel sad, angry or jealous that you relied on that women instead of her but as she held the necklace in her hands, engraved with the word "Princesa" and signed by someone named L.W., Alexia couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy towards this mysterious figure who had seemingly filled the void in your life that she had left gaping open.

She realized that she had pushed you away, prioritizing her own desires and relationships over nurturing the bond she had with you. The memory of scolding you based on Elena's words instead of listening to your side of the story haunted her, knowing now that it was a pivotal moment where she had failed you.

And as she sat there, clutching the necklace that symbolized the connection she had failed to maintain with you, Alexia couldn't help but wonder why she had chosen to engage with others instead of prioritizing you, her own flesh and blood.

She knew that her actions had led you to seek comfort and acceptance elsewhere, to find comfort in someone who treated you like their own daughter when she had failed to do so.

But even amidst the guilt and regret, Alexia realized that she couldn't change the past. All she could do now was acknowledge her mistakes, learn from them, and strive to be a better mother to you, even if it meant starting from scratch and earning back your trust and love.

And as tears welled up in her eyes, Alexia made a silent vow to herself – to never again neglect the most fundamental task of being a mother, to always prioritize you above all else, and to make up for the lost time and opportunities she had squandered in the past.

And despite the pain and letdowns I've inflicted, why did you persist in holding onto hope that I would come through for you

Despite the pain and letdowns she had inflicted, Alexia couldn't help but wonder why you persisted in holding onto hope that she would come through for you. It was a question that haunted her as she grappled with the realization of how much she had failed you, how much she had neglected to be the mother you needed and deserved.

When a parcel labeled for you arrived, Alexia couldn’t resist the urge to open it. Inside, she found a medal inscribed with the words "Copa Juvenil Estrella" – "Star Youth Cup." Confusion washed over her as she struggled to understand why you would receive a medal from one of the most competitive under-21 tournaments in Spain. It was then that the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

She remembered the day of the tournament finals, the same day you had asked her to attend your football match. She recalled how she had brushed you off, claiming to be busy with her and Elena's training. It was a moment of realization that hit her like a bolt of lightning – she had prioritized her own interests over yours once again, and it may have been the final straw for you.

As Alexia connected the dots, she felt like burying herself six feet under. She couldn’t believe she didn’t know you were playing football much less knew you were playing it at such a high standard.

She wondered just what else she didn’t know about you. But she knew she could only hope that she’ll find you and that you’ll be able to forgive her so that you could build up your relationship again.

I just wish that one day I'll gather enough courage to ask for your forgiveness, and to find the strength to accept that you may never be there for me, regardless of how much I now yearn for your presence in my life

As Alexia was sitting down looking at her computer, a picture came up with you in her arms the day she adopted you and promised you she would love and take care of you forever. However all she did was the opposite, she remembered all the conversation’s or missed opportunities you had hinted at in your letter and, memories came rushing back to her,

“Mami, I made it into the school’s football team.”

The words barely registered as she mumbled a distracted response.

“But you promised you'd pick me up today.”

Your disappointment was palpable, "I know, sweetie, but something came up. The helper will take care of you," she said, barely sparing you a glance as I tried to focus on my task at hand.

As she watched you retreat to your room, she couldn't help but wonder why you seemed so upset. Didn't you understand that she had important things to attend to? Why couldn't you just be patient and wait for her to finish?

“Mami, can I go to the arcade with my friends? It’s the last day of school.”

She thought that you should help her with her teambuilding since you were her daughter after all.

"But I finished all my work."

Your insistence only added to her frustration. "I said no. End of discussion," I declared, my tone final as I brushed off your request. Didn't you understand that she had more important things to worry about than your petty desires?

"Why does she always choose someone else over me?"

As she watched you resign yourself to another night at home, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. Why couldn't you just accept that she had my own life to live, her own priorities to attend to?

"Mom, why can't you come to my graduation?"

Your hurt was evident in your voice, but she couldn't afford to dwell on it. "I have a work commitment, sweetie," she replied, her words hollow .

"I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom."

Your protests fell on deaf ears as she refused to listen. "I don't want to hear it," she cut you off, her disappointment palpable as she struggled to come to terms with your perceived shortcomings.

All the things she thought about you and everything she said was what pushed you away. Each dismissive remark, each broken promise, each moment of neglect drove a wedge between you, widening the gap in your relationship until it became insurmountable.

As Alexia sat there, reflecting on her past actions and the impact they had on you, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of regret and remorse. She wished she could turn back time, to undo the hurt she had caused, to be the mother you needed and deserved.

But she knew that she couldn't change the past. All she could do now was acknowledge her mistakes and strive to do better in the future. She realized that she needed to confront her own shortcomings, to learn from her mistakes, and to prioritize you above all else.

With tears streaming down her face, Alexia made a silent vow to herself – to gather enough courage to ask for your forgiveness, and to find the strength to accept that you may never forgive her, regardless of how much she now yearned for your presence in her life.

As she sat there, clutching onto the memories of the moments she had missed, a notification from Instagram interrupted her thoughts. The post was from Arsenal, and the caption read:

"Welcome to Arsenal, our new signing Y/N Williamson”

#angst #liquidation writes #woso soccer #woso fanfics #woso #woso community #fc barca femeni #womens football #woso imagine #alexia putellas angst #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas

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oracle-of-dream · 6 days

Note

Now that I know you write for svt can you please do a dom Mingyu x sub male reader smut with size kink?

I'll do you one better.

Photo Finisher

Minors DNI

Summary: Another day, another dick... A photoshoot for Cosmopolitan rolled your way with a promising model. Seventeen's largest member, Mingyu, asked for you by name...

Warnings: (Not Proofread) Male Reader, Size Kink, Massive Cock Mingyu, Creampie, Cockwarming, Carry/Lifting Sex, Struggles of fat cocks, Daddy nickname, Mention of blood (not related to sex), Cursing, Painful sex

Wordcount: 2k

Images flicked by as you tossed through the pages of recent issues of Cosmopolitan magazine. You could tell the photos were taken by professionals but lacked that glow that you enjoyed in your pictures. It just wasn't the same without it. You'd been commissioned by the magazine's owner to take photos for their next cover, apparently, their model asked for you specifically but withheld their identity from you.

Irritated, you walked into the studio, looking around for who your mystery client was. They have some nerve to call for you and not even give you a name. How the hell were you supposed to start and pre-work without knowing your client or studying other photos of them?

Your manager approached you, seeing your expression. "Y/n, I know you're not in the best of moods but let's not do anything to get us fired."

"Fired?" You raised your eyebrow. "Whoever this means so much to the company, I could get fired!?"

"No–" You ignored your manager's horrible attempt at recovery as you marched over to the dressing room door. He stepped in the way, blocking you from entering. "Just promise there won't be any blood to clean!"

"I'll make sure the bleeding will be internal. If you don't move, it'll be you internally bleeding."

They sheepishly moved aside, granting you access. You threw open the door to see a man with bronze skin, broad shoulders, and a military cut. He turned to you with a big smile. "Hello! You must be my photographer. I'm Mingyu, from Seventeen."

"Hi, Mingyu." You slowly entered the room, only the sound of your shoes clicking on the floor. "Why did you hide your name from me in the beginning?"

"I thought you might say no if you knew who I was... I've heard you're very picky with clients." Mingyu's head lowered like a puppy. "I hope that's not too much to ask."

You rolled your eyes. For someone so big, he was so docile... "Don't do that again. It's impolite." He nodded diligently. You sized him up; He was much taller than you, with a bicep the size of your head, and his chest bulged in the button-up he was wearing–the button held on for life. "Let's try and start again. I'm Y/n, and I'll be your photographer."

"I'm Mingyu, from Seventeen. It's nice to meet you." Mingyu stretched out a massive hand to shake yours, which made you feel small as he enclosed it in the handshake.

"Now we're acquaintances. Do you have any questions about my process?" You crossed your arms, trying to appear larger but it was useless against the mountain before you. Mingyu shifted his weight, looking around at the other staff in the dressing room. You scoffed, "Can we have the room please?" The makeup and clothing staff rushed out, relieved to get away from you. "Your questions. Speak."

Mingyu shifted awkwardly again before opening his mouth, "I-I didn't expect you to be so forward about things. I just want to look as good as possible, and you're very talented. So, I'd like to ask for whatever treatment is necessary."

It sounded like he practiced this speech a few times before speaking it. You smirked at the thought of him nervously practicing for you. "Sure. Do you know what you want?"

"W-What I want?"

"Yes. You've got to have something, right?"

"What can I ask for?"

"Nothing too physically damaging, I still need to work. But I want what you want, so tell me what you like about me."

Mingyu's eyes scanned you, as he'd been doing since you'd walked in. He honed in on your waist. "I wanna hold you."

"Okay, that's simple." You kicked off your shoes and waited for his embrace. When Mingyu lifted you off the ground by your waist, you gripped his arms for balance.

"Is this okay?"

"Fine. Just wasn't expecting to come off the ground..." You were level with his face now, about to admire his features much closer. His attached earlobes made his whole ear look larger cutely rounding out his face. But his sharp cheekbones and facial lines made him look more like a man–as well as his impressive figure.

"You're so... small." You'd never been called small before. The way Mingyu experimentally squeezed your sides forced a moan from you. "And you're voice is so... cute." Mingyu pulled you into him, holding you to his chest, you could feel his heartbeat racing.

"You're so excited already?"

"Maybe... I've got a thing for small things." He smirked at you, looking down at you. "When do we... do more?"

"Whenever you're ready. I've already prepared myself, but you may break me anyway..."

"I'm not a kid. I try not to break my toys," Mingyu's low voice rumbled in his chest as he lifted you to his lips easily. His lips engulfed yours as he shifted his arms to your legs, making you wrap around him. Even his tongue was thick when it forced past your lips. You twitched wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close. Mingyu walked you to a chair, sitting down while setting you in his lap. "Come on, Mr. Photographer. Show me more." The smugness in his voice was completely different from the shy man you were talking to moments ago. You tried to lift your shirt over your head but Mingyu stopped you. "I want to fuck you in your clothes..."

"Fine. That's easier for me, but try not to mess your clothes up."

"I'll have to cum in you to not make a mess."

"Is that you trying to ask or are you telling me?"

"Depends on which one lets me cream you."

"Both do." You giggled as you slid your pants down enough for your ass to hang out.

Mingyu lifted you onto your knees, balancing you on his lap, to smack your ass a few times. One hand focused on kneading your ass while the other unbuttoned Mingyu's pants. Your hands on his massive shoulders, looking so small, Mingyu loved every second of watching you shake over him. When he managed to unleash his cock, he smiled up at you, "You wanna look first?"

You took a glance over your shoulder. It was at least ten inches. Probably–Definitely more. "That's going in me? You'll kill someone with that one day."

"No one's died yet."

"How do you want me?"

"You're gonna ride it."

You scoffed, "Are you serious? How could I lower myself onto that?"

"I'll help you. Don't worry, Daddy's got you." He winked.

"Fuck you." Your tongue poked your cheek as you reached down to line yourself with his cock. Mingyu's hands gripped your waist, their warms making your skin tingle. He held you tightly, ready to control how much cock you'd get at any time. "Just don't slam me down. I'd like to be able to walk for the rest of today."

"I thought I was supposed to get what I like."

"And I said no physical harm."

He nodded. "Of course. You're the boss."

"Sure, Daddy," You said as you slid onto his tip. It was so thick that your hole was already stretching more than you prepared yourself for. "Jesus," You whispered, trying to keep yourself stable on his shoulders.

"Leave on me as much as you need. Take your time, it's no rush."

"Don't piss me off," You grunted through gritted teeth. You were taking your time, but it just kept going. Every time you sank an inch, you used your hand to feel how much was left to go–and it always felt like you hadn't made any progress. "You fat cock, fucker."

"Are you cursing at me?" Mingyu raised an eyebrow.

"No, I was just–Holy fuck!" Mingyu pushed you down onto him, more than you were ready for. "What the fuck!?"

"Don't curse at me. I told you to take all the time you needed, and you're not listening. That's not my fault." You took deep breaths through your nose to keep yourself from crying. The pain raked through your whole body as your hole was still so tight it could barely stretch for Mingyu.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to curse."

"That's better. Now, let me help you." Mingyu lifted you, making your eyes roll as your guts moved back into place. Then he lowered you back down, making your nails dig into his shoulders. "That's it, squeeze as hard as you like. I've got you." Mingyu's words were soft-spoken and light as he moved you like a weight at the gym. At every down, he made you take more of him. He continued this pattern until you sat completely on his lap, his entire cock somehow buried inside you. Your mouth hung open but no sound could describe the full feeling you were experiencing. You'd had so many types of cocks, but one like this was different. He was a monster and he was balls deep inside you. "I don't think you can move, so I'll do it for you then." Mingyu used you, like a fleshlight, holding you tighter as he lifted his hips into you.

Your mouth overflowed with drool, dripping down onto your chest. Mingyu leaned forward and licked it up. "Such a mess slut, aren't you? You just use your job to get free cock from idols. Is the 'glow' thing even real, or do you just like getting stuffed?"

As much as you wanted to argue, your brain was full of static. You couldn't work your mouth right, only shallow gasps and soft moans spilled out.

"Let's end this now, we've still got work to do," Mingyu grunted as he stood, carrying you with him. He loosened his grip on you to let you slide until you were perpendicular to his torso. Your legs on his shoulders, his hands supporting your back and waist, and his cock pointing straight inside you. "Try not to scream. And don't bother holding your orgasm back. It's better to watch you cum all over yourself." Mingyu thrust once, forcing a loud moan out of you as your eyes rolled.

You had to focus on not letting your head dangle or you'd choke on your own tongue. But it was pretty difficult with the way you were pushed by each thrust and pulled back in with the momentum of your body. Mingyu moved at a moderate pace, but the strength behind each thrust made it feel like he was drilling you. You were being forced over the edge at 100 MPH.

"Please, cum... fast," You begged.

"For you cutie, I'll do just that. But, it'll be tough, so try not to bite your tongue off." Mingyu smiled as he cocked his hips back further and hit you with the same speed and power, but making more of his dick move. It was enough to instantly force you to cum, making a mess as ropes of cum shot all over your shirt. Your tightening hole made it harder for Mingyu to keep himself together as he went to town on you. His thrust had a moan behind it as his sweat dripped onto your body. "I'm gonna cum–come 'ere," Mingyu pulled you up as he hugged you tightly, fucking you through his high. The way his cock bulged with each wave of cum that passed through his cock was devilish. His whole body was made for fucking and it took you so long to realize it.

When you gained enough sanity to register the rest of the room around you, Mingyu was sitting back in the chair holding you as you laid on top of him–his cock still inside you.

"We've gotta work," You groaned as you tried to climb off. But Mingyu's grip on your body was so tight that you couldn't move.

"Five more minutes. Then work."

Mingyu held you hostage for almost fifteen minutes before you convinced him to let you go. You had to have an intern wheel you around in a chair to get your photos, but you still got them... All while Mingyu had that dumb smirk on his face, as he stared at you through the lens.

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #x male reader #kpop male reader #x male smut #x reader #mingyu #svt #svt x reader #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu x reader

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love-belle · 7 months

Text

'cause summers go so fast !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which her only goal for the summer was to make it through the season without bashing someone's head in and have fun; not introduce more than half of her colleagues to her family and certainly not showing them around her hometown. but, universe always did fuck with her.

for when you realise that you don't have to be sorry for doing it all on your own. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

real life // f1 grid x fem!reader // lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings - language. unhealthy and toxic familial relationships. daddy issues. mommy issues. issues. a lot of self projection in this one so !!

author's note - hi hi hi :) this is a series that im truly excited for and i know that i have like two series in progress but yeah !! this is gonna be me self projecting my feelings onto the reader so beware and don't make fun of me <3 i love you so much!!

chapter i ⋆·˚ ༘ *

❝if i wanted to watch a man and woman scream at each other, i would just go and have dinner with my parents — can i leave?❞

chapter ii ⋆·˚ ༘ *

❝are you okay? i mean, i did watch you fall down the stairs and lay on the ground for about ten minutes saying that you deserved this.❞

chapter iii ⋆·˚ ༘ *

❝oh my god, i shouldn't even have to say this but please, do not bite my cat. her name is coochie — STOP LAUGHING!❞

chapter iv ⋆·˚ ༘ *

❝look — i'll speak on behalf of everyone, we think you're cool and the only reason we didn't really hang out with you is because you intimidate us. a lot.❞

chapter v ⋆·˚ ༘ *

❝charles is a decent driver and we can make a run for it. go inside, tell them to fuck off, throw water at their face, scream at them and then we're getting the fuck out of here.❞

...more !!!

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skylarsblue · 1 year

Text

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes, Again✦

Guess who's back...back again-

Ghost @ DILF!Y/N: Stop making me have gay thoughts, General. I look at men and I feel weird. I feel strange. It makes me wanna do things. I don’t like that.

(This also works with Soap, of course)

-- (Based on that one Avatar moment that set the fucking bar for me. Also, bonus random name of an NPC) Ghost: Oliver is the best sniper. DILF!Y/N, real softly over Ghost’s shoulder: …well I don’t want Oliver. Ghost, a man with daddy issues: Ghost, internally: HOLD IT THE FUCK TOGETHER SOLDIER, WE’LL GET THROUGH THIS

-- Y/N: I was gonna say that if in ten years time, the two of us aren’t married, let’s agree… Gaz: Yeah? Y/N: To hunt each other for sport. Gaz: T-To hunt each other for sport?- Y/N: Yeah! D-did you just agree?! Gaz: I thought you were gonna say like, y’a know, let’s get married! Let’s- Y/N: Oh! Oh. Gaz: I’ll be your Gilligan! Y/N: I didn’t mean- the signals-

-- Gaz: Sorry! I thought I saw a wasp. Y/N: Do you love me too? Gaz, breaking his neck: Excuse me?

-- (NSFW warning) Y/N: Like- no I know it’s bad but bro I- he makes me such a whore. Soap: Okay like, on a scale of one to ten- Y/N: I’d let him cum on my glasses Soap: ON YOUR GLASSES?! Oh it’s serious. Y/N: I KNOW

-- 141: *looking at knocked out Graves* Y/N: I’m gonna check his pockets. Alejandro: For weapons? Y/N: No, to see where he keeps the fucking audacity. Soap: *wheeze* No no, bad timing, don’t be funny this is serious.

-- Y/N: You wanna go toe-to-toe with me, pretty boy? Alejandro: Go for it.~ I’ll give you the first shot. Y/N: Better make it count, casanova. Alejandro: I never half-ass anything, mi girasol. Ghost: Oi, keep your pants on and focus, would ya?

-- Soap: Missed me missed me now you gotta kiiii…. Simon: Now I gotta what? Soap: Nothin’ forget it- Simon: No no, now I gotta what?

-- Y/N, surrounded by attractive men: Am I…a whore? Y/N: *looks at them* Y/N: I don’t really give a fuck, HEY TEAM-

-- Gaz: Why are you just…laying on the couch? Usually you’re up and doing something. Y/N: Can’t move. Soap: Why?? Y/N: *sits up on their elbows and allows their neck to be seen* Gaz: *gasp* Nooooo… Y/N: Mhm. Soap: Nuh uh. Y/N: König carried me here. >:) Gaz: YOU WHORED! Y/N: I DID!!

-- Someone: Please PLEASE don’t tell anyone. Y/N: I won’t! I won’t, promise. Someone: *sigh* Thank you. … Price: *doing paperwork* Y/N, busting in: CAPTAIN!! Price: BLOODY FU-What in the world?! Y/N: *shuts his door and smoothly sits on his desk* Captain you will not believe what I have heard.

-- Soap: I’m gonna stop listening to drama. I’m gonna focus on my training, be a better person- Gaz: Right, right. Y/N, popping in: Guess who got caught sucking dick in the bathroom. Soap & Gaz: WHO?! Soap: *falls out of chair*

-- Price: Be nice. Y/N: I’m always nice! Price: Really nice, not bitchy nice. Y/N: …you tied my hands but fine.

-- (With a random backstory I have in my brain for König) Y/N: How do you uh, deal with all this trauma? König: I call my mutter. Y/N: That’s beautiful, K- König: Call my mutter a bitch.

-- Gaz: GIRLFRIEND STOP, GET BACK IN THE CAR Soap with zero self preservation instincts: *sprinting with a pipe bomb* YOU GET BACK HERE!

-- Y/N: This entire team is full of babygirls. Gaz: Oh not that fucking meme- Soap: Full of huh? Ghost: Call me that and I will snap your spine. Y/N: Bring it! An honor sir! Price: Jesus Christ-

#the dilf ones are for my own enjoyment #i have a dilf oc and this is how i get it out #call of duty x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty #konig call of duty #konig x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #incorrect cod quotes

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persphonesorchid · 6 months

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Orbiting Jupiter - KNJ

Summary: Namjoon has never met someone like you in a long time. Jupiter to his Ganymede; he's stuck in your orbit.

Warnings: Lots of anxiety on Namjoon's part, mentions of being stalked, Namjoon hurts himself more than anything bc he's clumsy. Smut (Minors begone.): Unprotected sex, mutual masterbation, light spit play, Namjoon's daddy kink is a brief topic of interest lol. I think that's all, let me know if i missed any!

Word count: 13.4k

Genre: Idolverse, strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of angst (it's not much, promise :)) Smut

Notes: FINALLY FINISHED!! This would have been out a whole lot sooner, but i've been dealing with life, stress, a breakup...more stress lol. But it's all good now! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and please leave feedback, even if it's just a little smiley face in the comments! Have a good day!!

Masterlist

Namjoon is dressed casually enough, he thinks. Inconspicuously enough that he won’t be recognized, enough that he could become another face in the crowd; enough to blend in.

It’s early, but the city is bustling with people starting their day. He tries not to be suspicious, as much as he could. Tries to navigate a city he’s been in many times before like he’s lived there his whole life. He tries not to look over his shoulder too much, guard up, like he’s just waiting for someone to run up to him and demand his attention. The mask and hat he picked out before he sneaked out of his hotel room brought him little comfort. He hopes that no one would give him a second glance or look too closely.

To this day he’d never understand how his fans can tell him apart by the way he walks, or by his eyes alone. So, he keeps his head down, hands in his pockets, and tries not to think too much about his stride.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for, what he’s doing out of his hotel room so early. He has no schedule today, free to do what he likes, and he just needed to get out for a minute or two. He wasn’t planning on straying too far, especially since he’s told no one that he was leaving. He found himself just walking, though, enjoying the sights and the people leading simple lives.

He finds a little café after walking some more, and stands outside it, out of the way of the door to avoid being an issue. It’s crowded inside, and anxiety curls in his stomach as he contemplates going in. He believes no one would recognize him, he hopes that no one would look too long, and he steps inside.

It’s a bit quieter than he expected, people talking in low murmurs amongst themselves. The loudest things being the sound of a coffee grinder running and a barista calling someone for their order. It’s a small café, more dining space than workspace, and Namjoon wanders over to the resister and orders without issue.

His eyes trail over the other patrons, everyone absorbed in their own worlds and conversations. The table he eyes quickly gets taken while he collects his iced Americano and he sighs softly, despite the amount of people in, he doesn’t want to leave yet, and the only available spot to sit comes with another person. Namjoon weighs his options. He could go outside, find a little park to sit in and drink his coffee, or he could risk it here, where someone has yet to pay him any mind. It’s been so long since he’s been able to walk freely, he knows he’ll miss it when he goes back through the front door.

So, with cautious steps, he walks over to the table with the only available seat.

“Excuse me...” Namjoon softly calls, briefly contemplating on tapping your shoulder; you’re reading a book, and he knows well how easily one can get lost in those. You look up though, the tiny furrow between your brows gives way to your confusion, as well as the little humming sound you make. “Sorry...do you mind if I...”

Namjoon motions to the chair across from you, and you look at it and then back to him for a few seconds before realization blooms in your eyes.

“Oh! No, of course...just...go ahead.” Your smile is pretty, Namjoon notes, and he realizes, as he thanks you and sits, that you recognize him. You stare at him in a knowing kind of way, and before Namjoon can up and leave, you simply smile the way you had before, as though he was any other stranger wanting to share your table. He watches with bated breath, trying to stay calm just in case, and you just go back to reading your book.

There’s no fanfare, no freaking out and drawing attention, or asking for a photo and too invasive questions. You don’t even look at him again. The sound of you flipping the pages of your book melds into the background noise of the space, and Namjoon finds it strange. He thanks his stars, though, he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and risk losing his head.

He relaxes when you continue to pretend he isn’t sitting in front of you, your eyes following the words on the page. There’s a tap of your fingers against the wooden tabletop, and a minute shake of your head before you close your eyes for a moment. You take an agitated breath, and Namjoon pauses the movement of him trying to get the straw underneath the bottom of his mask and watching you at the same time. He tries to peek at the cover of the book you’re reading, curious.

You shake your head again, muttering to yourself before going back to reading, your expression quickly blanks as you start back up again. Namjoon sips his coffee, for once feeling relaxed in a room full of strangers and lets his eyes trail elsewhere. Over to the little potted flowers that line the windows, or the people passing outside.

There’s a sudden squeak from you and Namjoon looks at you in time to catch the look of utter disbelief on your face. With frantic fingers you fish a bookmark from the back pages of the book before marking your spot and closing the book with a soft smack. Gently, with enough care that someone would think you’re handling glass, you place the book onto the table with a sigh and pick up your drink. You still don’t look his way, sipping at your drink with a frown and an irritated draw to your brows. Not that Namjoon is complaining, he swears he isn’t. It’s just...weird. He expected you to at least sneak a glance by now.

Curiosity should be a cardinal sin, as it’s gotten him into trouble more times than he could count, but Namjoon decides to dig his own grave anyway.

“What were you reading?” He asks, and it takes a moment, you’re clearly in your head, staring off at nothing and muttering into your drink. You look at him when his words finally break through.

“Huh? Oh...” You set your cup down, turning the book to him, “'The Desolation of Devil’s Acre'. It’s the last book of a series I’m following, and the main character is just...” You sigh through your nose, “He’s an idiot.”

You talk to him like any stranger, it almost made Namjoon think that you didn’t recognize him at all. He still sees it in your eyes, and as you’ve been adamant not to, he doesn’t address it either.

“I’d bet...” Namjoon chuckles, “If your reaction was anything to go by.”

There’s an embarrassed air about you now as you let out a soft laugh. Namjoon wants to smack himself though, he’d just told you that he’s been staring at you long enough to notice.

“Ah, yeah.” You wave a hand, “I bought it earlier...I was too excited and just got into it but Jacob is an idiot. He just makes me wanna reach in there and smack him silly.”

“Is it good?” Namjoon nods at the book, taking a moment to look at the cover. It’s black and white, a little girl sits on a black chair, a wall of photos is the backdrop, staring into the camera with big clear eyes and someone’s hand is tugging on the sleeve of the black and white chequered striped dress. It seems like a horror novel if Namjoon is being honest.

“I haven’t read much of this one yet, but the previous ones are amazing. Too bad the movie didn’t follow it correctly.” There’s an excitement in your eyes, and you seem perfectly content to rave about all the ways the movie went wrong and did the book absolutely no justice. Namjoon nods along, throwing questions at you about the books when he can, and by the time you’re done he’s laughing at something, and you are too. His iced Americano is now just an Americano that’s just slightly cold, more water than coffee, but Namjoon doesn’t mind and drinks it anyway. He still hasn’t removed his mask, but you don’t seem too bothered by it.

“It just would’ve been so much better if they’d followed the book correctly. I was so excited about the movie, and they just went and messed it up.” You sigh, taking a sip at your drink, Namjoon’s sure it’s cold by now. “You should give it a read, though...” You tilt your head at him, humming, and Namjoon tilts his head back, you can’t see it, but he smiles, the furrowing of his brows you do see.

“What?” Namjoon asks, a little amused by your sudden pause. You study him for a minute, but he’s comfortable enough in this space you’ve created that it doesn’t set off the usual alarm bells in his head. You’ve done wonders for treating him as just another person. Simply Kim Namjoon, who wandered into this small café and took the seat opposite you, and not RM of a globally recognized pop septet.

“You don’t strike me as a fantasy guy.” You say, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Oh yeah? And what do I strike you as?”

He leans forward a bit, genuinely curious, unintentionally flirty. He does his best to reel himself in, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You take it in stride, though, despite the flush to your cheeks and the embarrassed air that lingers.

“Philosophy, poetry...maybe a bit of romance.” You finally say, smiling a bit.

Namjoon hums, leaning back into his chair, “You know a lot.” He says, but between the string of words lies the unspoken ‘You know me.’. He studies you as you study him, your face betraying no emotion.

You simply shrug, lifting your cup to your lips again, “Human decency.”

Namjoon quite likes your company, and he spends an hour more sitting opposite you, enjoying the sense of normalcy you provide. He wonders what you both look like to onlookers, like two friends who haven't seen each other in a while and are simply catching up. It feels that way for Namjoon.

He sits there until his coffee is finished and yours is too and you’ve tucked your book away and you're both talking again about anything that comes to mind. You don’t ask him about his work, but you ask about what he’s into these days, he recommends books and music he’s sure you’ve never heard of, and you do the same.

Time passes and then some more, and it's enough time for someone to realize that he’s missing. His phone vibrates against his leg right in the middle of him explaining why he thinks some things that happen in life can’t simply be chalked up to coincidences and he startles, leg jerking, knocking his knee against the underside of the table.

It rattles the empty cups topside with a dull thud and a sharp pain shooting up Namjoon’s leg, you wince with him, and he mutters a string of expletives. Rubbing a hand furiously against the offended spot, Namjoon fishes his phone from the pocket of his jeans, not bothering to check who’s calling before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Namjoon-ah, where are you?” Seokjin’s voice is a little far away and a little distracted. He suddenly yells a curse and Namjoon can only assume he’s spent his morning breaking in some new game he bought. “Sejin-nim was looking for – fuck, I hate this game – something about a briefing. You’re not in your room.”

“Ah, Hyung. I took a walk...I’m not far. Yeah – I'm coming back...Okay.” Namjoon glances at you as he pockets his phone again, smiling with his eyes.

You smile back, waving a hand, understanding as he picks up the empty take away cup and stands to leave. There’s no complaint from you, nothing in your eyes that tells of anything else. “It was nice meeting you.” You say softly, leaning forward a bit even though the chances of you being overheard by anyone else was slim.

“You too.” Namjoon says, and he means it. You’re like a diamond in a coal mine, as finding someone like you – being who he is - was rare. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Namjoon pauses in the step he makes, faltering at your side and you look up at him curious and confused. He wars with himself for a moment, he’s certain that he’s about to do something stupid.

Something he should never do because of how dangerous it could be not only for him but his groupmates. He stares at you for a moment, long enough that it warrants your concern, and you ask if he's okay.

“Can I... Is it okay if I ask for your number?” The words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can reel them in, and he’s standing there a little mortified.

Namjoon always prides himself in being self-assured, but that same self-assurance leads him to putting his foot in his mouth sometimes and he says things without thinking first. It’s too late to pull the words back or act like he hadn’t asked because you’re blinking up at him, sitting a little straighter now in your seat.

You glance around, brows furrowed, “Are...are you sure?”

For the first time, it seems as though it just registered that you’re speaking to RM of BTS.

There’s a nervousness about you now, as you glance to the side, and Namjoon finds this strange. He’s not trying to sound like an ass thinking that many others would jump at the offer – or be bold enough to demand it first – it’s simply the truth.

He finds your consideration refreshing, though, and he waits patiently for you to make up your mind. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and Namjoon backtracks, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Namjoon says, putting up a hand. Despite who he is in the eyes of the public; he’s still a man. A man you’ve only spoken to for a half hour who’s now asking for your number, Namjoon would think very hard about it if he were in your shoes, too.

“I don’t meet a lot of people like you, and I thought it would be nice if we spoke often, but if that’s not cool, that’s okay.”

You shake your head, “No... it’s okay. I just...Are you sure? I don’t want to put you in any difficult spots, or myself for that matter...”

You’re surprisingly calm, looking more wary than anything else, and Namjoon takes that as a good sign. “I’m sure, don’t worry.” He smiles and pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans; he unlocks it with a press of his thumb and hands it over to you.

You fumble a little with the device, fingers tapping at the number pads quickly before handing it back to him. He shoots you a quick text, a simple ‘Hi :”)' before he was pocketing his phone again before he was waving and making his way out the café door.

Namjoon tries his hardest to keep walking forward back down the street and not jog back over to the glass window to wave at you. That would be very weird of him.

Namjoon’s day goes on as normal, not like he was expecting anything different. A whirlwind of briefings and meetings and discussions on what would be done during his group’s free time. It's no different to any other time, but by the end of the day Namjoon’s brain feels like mush and he’s lying in bed, palms under his head as he gazes at the swirling patterns etched into the ceiling.

He sighs, it’s long, drawn out and tired. He blinks slowly, sitting up to lean against the headboard. The sun had long set and only the glow of the city lights penetrated the darkness of his hotel room through the large window.

He squints at the lights that are too far off to be anything but hovering blobs in the distance, and briefly, he wonders what you’re up to.

Oh, that’s right.

Namjoon fumbles through the mess of his sheets to find the phone he knows he tossed there somewhere. It’s nowhere near him and he stands, lifting the sheets to look. There’s a dull thud and a clatter, and with a sigh, Namjoon rounds the bed to find his phone on the floor.

He plops back on the bed, pressing the power button and inspecting the screen for cracks. There’s a flurry of notifications and emails and texts from his group mates and work, and Namjoon scrolls through his notification feed. At the bottom, he finds a text from you; a reply to the message he’d sent earlier.

‘Hi (:’

It’s cute in its simplicity, but Namjoon stares at the place where your contact information sits. Just your number and nothing else, and Namjoon comes to the realization that he didn’t ask you for your name at any point this morning.

You had responded hours ago, and had sent nothing else, and with some embarrassment, Namjoon types out a message.

Namjoon: Hey, sorry I missed your text! Busy day, you know?

He frowns at the message when it goes through, at the time stamp that reads a little past midnight. You’re probably asleep and the timing seems a little less than ordeal, a little inappropriate given the hour, but Namjoon lets out a surprised hum when the bubbles appear at the bottom.

Unknown: Hey! No worries, it’s totally okay.

Namjoon: You’re up late...

Namjoon pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, was that a weird thing to mention? He can’t help but feel like he’s blowing this somehow. Is there a right way to text someone you barely know? He shakes his head, deciding not to think too much on it.

Namjoon: Sorry, but I didn’t ask your name earlier.

Unknown: Haha, that’s okay. It’s Y/n. And yeah, I was just finishing up some work.

Namjoon contemplates his next question, nerves running amok in his tummy.

Namjoon: Can I call you? Is that okay?

The bubbles appear and disappear for a moment and Namjoon thinks he’s overstepped. It’s pushing one in the morning and Namjoon’s aware of how it may look to you, how it may look to anyone else for that matter.

Y/n: Sure, we can do that.

Namjoon sighs, looking out the window, away from his phone to give himself a moment. You too – he’s mindful of himself, of course. He taps on the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

The line rings for a couple seconds, and Namjoon thinks that maybe you’ve stepped away for a minute or perhaps this was the wrong move and he shouldn’t have asked, but you pick up before another ring could sound. It’s quiet for a second and then he hears you inhale softly.

“Hey.” Your voice sounds a little different over the phone, or maybe it's just the time and Namjoon’s mind is trying to go places it shouldn’t. You’re as calm as you were this morning in the cafe, nothing in your voice betrays your emotion.

“Hey.” Namjoon can’t help the smile, and he’s sure you heard it in his voice. “I know it’s late, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good. I had a coffee so I’ll be awake for a while again.”

Despite your words your voice sounds tired and Namjoon feels guilty, laying back against the headboard with a soft sigh.

He asks about the book you’re reading and he listens to your rambles about the chapter you finished. Then you both talk about anything that comes to mind.

“How’d your day go? You don’t have to be too specific or anything, just in general.” You murmur softly, when Namjoon’s laying down fighting to keep his eyes open because he doesn’t want to hang up yet.

“Hectic.” He answers honestly, he can hear you shuffle around, getting comfortable in your sheets. “You?”

“It was alright, I spent half the morning freaking out, really. Today felt a little dream-like. If you hadn’t texted, I probably would’ve convinced myself that I imagined the whole thing.” You chuckle, and then there was a small pause, “Sorry, I’ve been so chill about it this whole time.”

“You’re fine. Handling it better than most.” Namjoon says, “I’m glad you didn’t freak out when you met me though.”

“Human decency.” You repeat your words from earlier, and Namjoon feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You’ve probably had enough of that to last you a lifetime.”

“It’s not too bad, sometimes anyway.” He says softly, halfway asleep and he’s sure you are too. Your voice is getting quieter, and Namjoon can’t keep his eyes open.

When Namjoon wakes it’s to the sun shining into his eyes and his phone is still in his palm. It’s a little after eight am when he checks, and the call had already been disconnected sometime around seven. There’s a message wishing him a good morning from you, there’s a flutter in his tummy at the little yellow heart that ends the text, and he thinks it may be a little too early for that kind of response. He can’t help it though, and he lays in bed for another few minutes and stares at it with a stupid smile on his face.

He wonders what to do with his day, now with more than enough free time on his hands to do whatever he likes and then he wonders what you were doing today. There’s an all-consuming longing for the sense of normalcy you provided within the day he’s known you, and he knows that isn’t much time to find comfort in a person, but he guesses that’s just how it is when you live like he does. However, he doesn’t want to scare you away with his need to feel something that was long lost to him, so he puts off asking you anything.

He has a few things lined up on his personal itinerary: Museum crawls and sightseeing, all of which he would do alone and hopefully without any troubles along the way. He finally decides to bite the bullet when he’s done with his breakfast and sitting at the small table in his hotel room, fiddling with his phone and his bottom lip between his teeth. You hadn’t replied to his responding text from earlier and Namjoon can only assume you’re busy, but he texts anyway.

Namjoon: Are you busy today?

He locks his phone and cleans up the table, snatching his phone up when it chimes softly, smiling already.

Y/n: Not particularly…why?

Namjoon could never distinguish tone from texts, so he’s not sure if you’re suspicious or teasing, so he replies carefully.

Namjoon: I’m doing a thing today…some sightseeing or I might go to a museum…wanna come with?

The bubbles disappear and reappear and then you’re calling.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t feel obligated to either.” Is the first thing he says when he answers, just to be certain.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I’d love to. I just need to know if it’s okay.” There’s a hesitance in your voice, a certain type of worry.

Namjoon is quick to ease, “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t, Y/n.” He says with a chuckle.

“Ah, okay.” You laugh a little, “Oh but what about...do I have to sign an NDA?”

Namjoon pauses, he’s forgotten about that. He runs a hand through his hair, “Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.” There’s a smile in your words and Namjoon can’t help but smile back. “Where do I meet you?”

Namjoon sat across from his manager, Sejin, in his hotel room. He clears his throat, feeling a bit nervous about what he was going to ask.

“Sejin,” Namjoon begins, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sejin, always attentive to Namjoon’s needs, leaned forward. “Sure, what’s on your mind, Namjoon?”

Namjoon hesitated for a moment before continuing, “There’s a friend I met recently, and I was hoping to bring her along with me when I go to the museum today.”

Sejin raises an eyebrow, his protective instincts kicking in. “A friend? Are you sure that’s a good idea, Namjoon? You know how public spaces can get, especially with a girl by your side.”

Namjoon nods, understanding Sejin’s concern. He’s well aware of how things can get, being who he is, especially in the eyes of some of his fans. “I know, Sejin. She's a good friend of mine, she won’t cause any trouble.”

Of course, Namjoon doesn’t know that for sure, but he’s willing to take the risk, and Sejin doesn't need to know he'd only met you yesterday; what he doesn't know won't kill him. One thing he’s certain of is that you’re different, and that’s something he can bet on.

Sejin contemplates for a moment, silent as he thinks before sighing. “Alright, Namjoon. I trust your judgement. But we need to take some precautions. We’ll have her sign a non-disclosure agreement to ensure our privacy and safety.”

Namjoon smiles, relieved that Sejin was willing to accommodate him. “Thank you.”

Namjoon paces in the hotel lobby an hour later, nerves making him unable to stand still for too long. He had met you just a day ago, but there’s something about you that intrigued him deeply. The way you’ve treated him like a regular person, not as the famous musician he was, is perhaps the biggest factor. He found that both fascinating and endearing.

Moments later, you walk into the lobby, looking a bit nervous yourself. You smile when you spot him, lifting your hand in a little wave. Your smile immediately puts Namjoon at ease. You’re wearing a simple dress, a backpack slung over one shoulder, walking over to him in quick steps.

“Hey.” You stop once you’re close enough, still smiling.

Namjoon smiles back, feeling a sense of relief. “Hey, Y/n Thanks for coming.”

You wave him off with a hand, looking around at the large lobby, the lights sparkling in your eyes.

Sejin is waiting at a table near the reception desk, and stands to shake your hand when Namjoon leads you over.

You take a seat and go through the formalities with him, and sign the NDA without complaint. Namjoon can’t help but feel a little worried, like he’s turning your life on its head by knowing him personally.

Namjoon watches the scenery pass by through the tinted glass of the car Sejin rented, the small talk died down as he pulled into the carpark of the museum. He leads you through the private entrance, where the manager meets you both with an enthusiastic greeting.

The museum is empty, and Namjoon catches the wonder in your eyes when he looks at you. “You rented out the whole place?”

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, I normally do. It’s more so for safety than anything else.”

You hum, nodding in understanding as you trail next to him. “It’s pretty cool, I’ve never been in one while it’s empty before.”

The private tour begins, and Namjoon’s knowledge and passion for art shines through as he explains the significance of each piece, trying his best to keep you entertained. You listen intently, genuine interest evident, even asking questions in between his rambling.

“You know,” You say, staring at a painting of abstract colours, “This is not at all how I imagined this to go.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He’s long stopped paying attention to the art that lined the walls, admiring you, mostly. “Oh? What did you imagine?”

You shrug, turning your head to look at him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, I expected bodyguards, and a bit of running around. This is nice, though.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, I would usually have someone close by, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You frown a bit, “Isn’t that dangerous though? You should have someone nearby regardless.”

“Your comfort is important.” Namjoon says, trying to keep you from worrying too much.

“Your safety is too, you know.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you he’s right outside?” Namjoon smiles, he could see you’re ready to debunk his words with the way your eyes narrow. “Don’t worry, someone’s near, just not as near as they would be normally.”

You stare at him for a quiet moment longer, “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

As the both of you continued your tour, the conversation between you flowed effortlessly. Namjoon took the moment he had to know more about you. Asking about your dreams, how far you’ve gotten in that book of yours, and the places you wanted to travel to. He found you easy to talk to, allowing himself to open up to you in a way he hadn’t with many people.

Something in the back of his mind, a learned warning echoed. He really shouldn’t be, considering everything. He chooses to ignore it for now, as you ask him about his favourite pieces of art.

By the time the tour was over and Namjoon actually remembered to take photos of the art, the sun was at its zenith. He tries not to take too long touring, so the museum can at least open to the public for the rest of the day.

You’re scrolling through your phone, looking at the photos you took of the pieces that caught your attention.

“Wanna get some food? There’s a good place nearby.” Namjoon asks, tucking his phone into his jeans.

You nod, smiling, “I can eat.��

Namjoon drives you both to a diner he’d visited once or twice when he was last in this city. The diner was packed for the lunch rush and Namjoon contemplates his next move in the car.

“Oh, that’s...” You glance between him and the view of the people in the diner, “I’ll go, whatchu want?”

“I can go...” You’re already unbuckling your seat belt and leaning down to rummage through your backpack. You find your purse with a soft ‘a-ah!’, smiling at him as you right yourself and turn to him again.

“It’s alright. It’s pretty crowded... you might not be so lucky this time.” You say, “Want anything specific?”

Namjoon smiles at you, shaking his head with a small laugh, “Anything’s fine.”

You nod, opening the door, there’s a rush of warm air that disturbs the AC, and Namjoon is stopping you. “Hang on...”

He sees you shake your head as he reaches for his wallet, and you step out before he can hand you his card.

“You can get it next time.” With that you’re off, and Namjoon watches a little slack jawed as you go.

Something in his chest flips and crawls up his throat, “...next time?”

You come out of the cafe, balancing two cups of something colourful in a cardboard holder and two brown paper bags a good five minutes later. Namjoon leans over to the passenger seat to pop the door open for you, extending his arm to take the holder.

“I got you a smoothie if that’s okay,” You say once you settle, passing him one of the paper bags, “Ham, egg and cheese sandwich.”

“Smoothies are good, thank you,” The smoothie is a mix of some fruit and another he can’t put his finger on. He hums at the sweet taste, “Oh, that’s good.”

For a moment, you both quietly eat, “Thanks for inviting me to come with you. I had fun.”

“Sure you weren’t bored out of your mind?” Namjoon teases, smiling when you reach over to smack his arm lightly.

“I was not!” Your giggle rings like a bell, “I mean it.”

As the days go by and his time in this city draws nearer to an end, Namjoon tries his best to spend as much time with you as he could. He’d text and call when he can and when your time allows it, learning more about you as he went along and liking you more as he did. He felt strange for the most part, as his two-week break comes to an end and he’s packing his things away and double checking that he doesn’t forget anything or pack something that isn’t his. His phone is propped up against the bedpost, distracted from folding his clothes by the view of you coming back into the frame.

“You’ll be busy once you get back, right?” You ask, sipping juice through the straw of a juice box.

Namjoon sighs, “Yeah, I’ll try my best to keep up with you, though.”

“You don’t have to.” You wave him off with a hand, “You’re a busy guy.”

“Would you miss me?” Namjoon asks, curious, because he’ll miss you. Is it normal to feel this way about someone you’ve known for only a short while?

“Nah.”

“Ow.”

“I’m kidding.”

Namjoon rolls his suitcase behind him, taking a moment to wave at the paparazzi and the fans that litter the terminal. He grips his phone tightly in his free hand, smiling at the cameras. He’s slept a little on the plane over, and even though he’s wide awake now he knows he’ll crash later. His phone buzzes in his hold and he briefly glances at it, he texted you right before he landed, and was eagerly awaiting your response.

He waits until he’s seated in the car at the entrance, he waves one last time through the window before he rolls it right up and settles into the leather seat of the car. The silence is soothing and Namjoon watches as the people outside filter away now that he’s inside.

Y/n: Hope your flight went okay!

Namjoon studies the text for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He was a little worried, honestly. He likes you, a lot, really, but what if it was simply in passing? A fleeting moment of interest? What if it all amounts to nothing in the end all because you’re you and he’s him? It’s easier to date within your own circle, to be with people who understand the complications and compromises that come with being with someone like him. He feels as though now, with an ocean between you both, everything will simply fade away. He’s known you barely two weeks, and even though he’s let you in, and you him, Namjoon can’t help his growing anxiety at the thought. Funny it occurs to him now that he’s back home.

Namjoon: It did!

He stares out the window for a bit, watching the familiar streets zoom by and shakes his head. When was the last time he actually felt like this? Meeting people is hard enough, and meeting someone like you is even harder. He’s seen and met a lot of people over the years, over his time as RM of BTS, a lot of fans who he thought beautiful and never pursued. He knows what comes of relationships between an idol and a fan, he’s seen it happen and it’s always a disappointment to be used like that. But he doesn’t want to put you in that box, he has no right to when you’ve shown him differently. Though, he’s in his right mind to keep an eye out for tabloids and articles of the things he’s shared with you and he also feels guilty that he does. He’s only known you for a short time, something he constantly has to remind himself of when he’s thinking too hard, but that level of trust is something he’s willing to work towards with you.

Namjoon’s days blur together into the weeks as they would when he’s too busy to do anything else but what’s required of him. Meetings here and there, album preparations; work. As he promised, he tried his best to keep up with you, and even on the days where all he could do when he comes home is pass out wherever he sets himself, you text or call to make sure he’s doing okay with it all. Sometimes it’s too early for you to consider being awake or it’s late at night and you’re too tired to keep your eyes open and Namjoon could barely understand what’s coming out of your mouth.

As the weeks meld into months you both found a routine that works best, and Namjoon finds things to do with you when you’re both free at decent times. Maybe you’ll watch a movie or play games together or simply catch up on things you’ve missed.

Namjoon never really has much to tell, most of his days are filled with work and despite his reputation for spoilers, he’s trying his best to keep things under wraps. You do most of the talking, you never seem to mind it much – smiling with a certain understanding – and Namjoon is always happy to listen about what you did that day or your workplace gossip.

He’s found it impossible to get you out of his head and focus more often, thoughts of you invading his mind more than anything else.

Even now as he tries to focus on putting a track together, he’s barely with it, phone propped up against a speaker and waiting for you to get back from getting some things done. He moved from the living room to his home studio a while ago, determined to get some work done and now just sits and stares at the tracks with a frustrated frown. He squints at the screen, moving some things around and playing the same track over and over.

“Where’re your glasses?”

Namjoon glances at his phone to see you just settling back on your couch, a glass bowl of cereal in your hand. You look cute in blue jellyfish printed pajamas he hasn’t seen you in before, hair pulled up and away from your face and even through the phone screen Namjoon can see it’s still damp.

“They’re…” He thinks for a moment, “…somewhere…”

You chuckle, “You should get those thingies kids and old people put on their glasses so they won’t lose them.”

“Trying to say something?”

“I’m just saying…you either lose them or break them and you can just avoid both by getting the thing. I know contacts are annoying.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, they’re a pain in the ass.” He sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk to spin around and stretch his fingers. “Isn’t it late for you?”

You put another spoonful of cereal in your mouth, turning your hand to look at your watch and hum, “It’s not that late…trying to get rid of me?”

“Never.” Namjoon smiles at your teasing tone, “Sleep is important, though.”

“Says you.” You point a finger at him, “You texted me at three am two days ago.”

“You were awake though, so…you’re losing this argument.” Namjoon laughs as you snap your mouth shut.

You point your spoon at him, “I’ll win next time.”

“Are those new? The pyjamas.” Namjoon asks, propping his chin on his hand, resigning himself to not getting any work done this morning.

“I’ve had these a while, aren’t they cute? There’s a really big jellyfish printed on the back.” You say, setting your bowl down with a soft clink of the glass against the wood of your coffee table.

“Yeah they’re…” Namjoon feels the words stall in his throat as you stand up, the bottoms of the pajamas aren’t long legged pants as he expected them to be. They end just above the middle of your thighs, and you’re giving him quite the show when you turn and come back down. The sight of the cartoonish jellyfish on the back of the top knocks Namjoon back where he’s supposed to be and he pinches the back of his hand.

When you right yourself, sitting back on the couch, Namjoon can’t stop thinking about the rest of you he can’t see.

“What’s with that look?” You ask after a moment of him just staring.

“What look?” Namjoon asks back, and for a second you simply watch him before you huff out a laugh and look away.

“You’re looking at me like you…” You start, eyes moving back to the camera before they flit away again, “Oh, my mum’s calling. I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

Namjoon laughs a bit, nodding as he waves you goodbye, “Sleep well.”

“Ah, fuck.” Namjoon grunts, the muscles of his arm strains and he tilts his head back, sweat trailing down his neck. He brings his arm up and then back down slowly, letting a breath out through his nose, “Shit.”

The music playing through his Bluetooth headphones suddenly fades out, the specific ringtone he set for you plays softly. Namjoon sets the dumbbell down on the floor, pressing a finger against the touchpad of one of the earbuds and answers.

“Hey Princess, what’s up?” He pulls at the end of his tee, fanning the cool ac air against his warm skin.

“Joon, it’s a video call.”

“Oh.” Namjoon pulls his phone from his pocket, waving at you with a smile, “Hi.” He gets off the bench he’s sitting on, propping his phone somewhere safe and sits again.

“Hi…are you – damn give me a warning, won’t you?”

Namjoon looks up at you just in time to catch you looking away, not missing the motion of you biting your bottom lip. He smirks, whether you’re aware of it or not; this is payback. He had a hard time not thinking of you in those short pyjama pants for two days, and even though this was completely unintentional, it was worth your reaction.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Namjoon smiles innocently.

You shake your head, “Anyway…guess what.” He hears the excitement in your voice rather than see as you’ve stepped out of frame and then quickly back in with a bottle of water in hand. There’s a big bright smile on your lips and you seem to be bouncing a bit in place.

“Well someone’s excited.” Namjoon chuckles and you wave at him frantically, “Okay, okay. What?”

You pout, “It’s no fun if you don’t even attempt to guess, you know?”

“There’s like, so many possibilities of my guess being wrong.” Namjoon says and you sigh dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Killjoy.” You roll your eyes, the action playful, “I’ll be in your area around this time next week.”

It takes a full minute for Namjoon to process and he almost drops the dumbbell on his foot, “Eh?”

“Hyung…I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon whines, flopping back into the couch in Genius Lab. Seokjin pats his back as Yoongi swivels around in his chair to face him, plucking his headphones out his ears.

“That’s a good thing.” Yoongi says, standing to stretch with a groan, “But also…don’t think about it too much. Overthinking doesn’t do you any good.”

Seokjin sighs, shaking his head, “I think it’s good that she’s coming here. It’s a good way to connect, you know?”

“I know, but…”

“It’s different here, right?” Yoongi supplies, sitting back into his chair but he doesn’t turn away, “Feels like you have to run around in secret. And on top of that she isn’t in ‘our circle’, things can get overwhelming for both of you, especially her.”

Yoongi is right, as he usually was. The last thing he wanted was to have his life and the circumstances of it be too much for you to take. Namjoon told the guys about you once or twice, just in case things between you both became more serious than it is now, he didn’t want them out of the loop and have to explain later.

“I don’t want that to get in the way of a relationship should it happen…” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Alright Joonie, Hyung is gonna explain something so listen carefully.” Seokjin lays a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and Yoongi makes a face at the tone he uses.

“Why do you sound like you’re gonna talk to him about safe sex?”

Seokjin ignores Yoongi, turning Namjoon to face him with his other hand on the other shoulder, looking serious. “Namjoon. You’re more than your celebrity status. You’re a person with feelings and desires, just like anyone else. If you like this girl, don’t let fame be a barrier. If things get hard, do what all the other adults do; sit and talk about it.”

Namjoon nods, “Right. You’re right. Thank you, Hyung.”

“Now, imagine if I wasn’t here to look after you guys.” Seokjin pats Namjoon’s shoulder, one of his rare deep chuckles filling the brief silence. “Just take her to see all the good places, have fun and you can worry about the rest after.”

It’s a day after you arrive in Korea that Namjoon sees you.

He’s meeting you a block away from the place you’re renting for the two weeks you’ll be here. There’s a slight chill in the air as the tail-end of summer pulls the beginning of autumn, and you’ve unintentionally matched him with your dark clothes and hat. You both had been texting the night before and Namjoon promised to take you somewhere nice while you were free.

“Hi!” your greeting is cheerful, and Namjoon returns it, smiling.

“Settling in okay?” Namjoon asks as he pulls off the curb.

He is determined to make the most of every moment you both spent together, showing you all his favourite spots. You both wandered through bustling markets, sampled street food, and visited historic temples.

When the sun painted the sky with lilac and indigo and the moon chased it away, Namjoon parked his car in the carpark of an observatory. The observatory is closed of course, but there’s an event that Namjoon booked tickets for the moment he saw it. You expressed your love for the cosmos many times before, and Namjoon was more than willing to indulge you. At times he would sit and listen to you ramble on for ages, telling him any and everything.

He flashes you a dimpled smile, making sure his black mask and hat were secured before leading you to the park located at the back of the observatory. The park was a large space with sparse trees and shrubbery dotting the field, the trees are wrapped in fairy lights, which are usually on at night time but are off to allow the best view of the night sky. There are winding paths of gravel that goes every which way, and Namjoon picks the one where less people linger, leading you down it with your hand in his.

He leads you through the winding trails and the other people here for the event until he finds a clear spot where you both can sit comfortably without disturbance.

It’s a clear night, the stars twinkling in the sky above. It’s quiet between you for a moment, where you watch the sky and he’s looking at you. His heart pounds in his ears and he doesn’t know what else to do but look away when you suddenly turn.

“What?” You laugh, leaning slightly to nudge his shoulder with yours.

Namjoon laughs softly, knowing he’s definitely been caught and shakes his head, “Nothing.”

You sigh softly, wrapping your arm around his and leaning your head on his shoulder. He wonders how you both seem to people that may glance a little longer, perhaps like a pair of lovers simply enjoying the night in each other’s company.

Namjoon enters the code for his apartment door, the beep and the sound of the door unlocking is loud in the quiet hallway. He lets you enter first, sliding you a pair of house slippers before he leads you further in.

“Ah, don’t mind the mess...it’s not usually like this...” Namjoon scratches his cheek, eyes caught on the mess that is his coffee table. There’re wads of balled up paper strewn about it, lyrics he started and decided there was nothing he could do with them, his journal left open and his little green cactus pen abandoned. A stack of books on the floor that’s yet to be read.

He quickly walks over to tidy it, picking up the stray pieces of paper.

“Don’t worry about it,” You say, and Namjoon realises you’re not even paying mind to it. Attention fully stolen by the various art pieces he has hung on walls and settled into corners.

The living room of his apartment is large, and in an attempt to make it look less empty, it’s his usual place to put whatever catches his eye. Most of them are paintings, canvases filled with colours and scenery, a book shelf that holds none, instead, a display for finely crafted pottery, potted house plants and a tiny brass horse Taehyung gifted him some time ago. There are picture frames of his family, the boys and other abstract things he took himself filling the emptier spaces on the shelf.

Glass pane windows take up most of the wall on the other side of the room, giving a beautiful view of Hannam in all its glittering glory.

Namjoon makes his way into the kitchen, paper balls clutched in his hands and he asks if you want anything. You’ve wandered over to the shelf, looking at all the different pieces, telling him that water would be fine.

“These are really pretty,” you say, turning to him with genuine admiration. “Are all of them authentic?”

“Some of them are.” He says, getting a glass from his cupboard, and then quietly: “Most of those are from small local ceramists, some of them from charity auctions and things like that.”

There’s something surreal in having you a room away, and not making jokes with him through a phone screen. Namjoon finds himself a little at a loss, a lot clumsier than usual as he knocks his shin against the leg of an island stool. There’s a searing heat that climbs its way from the collar of his shirt to flush the skin of his neck and ears.

He sees the smile that curls the corner of your mouth when you glance at him, “Are you okay?”

Namjoon nudges the stool closer to the lip of the island counter – glaring at it as though it walked into his path just to spite him; he forgot it out this morning, it’s his fault really – and nods. “I’m good.”

He reaches you in three strides, passing you the glass of chilled water. You take small sips of it, and Namjoon tracks the motion of your throat as you swallow.

He gives you a little tour, telling you about the art and any little thing you ask after. Namjoon’s thrilled to share this part of his life with you.

When it got a little later, Namjoon stands in the kitchen, watching water boil because it’s the only thing you let him do. He feels a little embarrassed as you stand somewhere behind him, donned in an apron he barely uses. He’d suggested ordering in and in very you fashion, you’d asked when was the last time he had a home cooked meal. Honestly, it was a while ago, when he visited home.

You’d shook your head, listing the times he would call you while he was eating dinner and you eating breakfast and it would always be some sort of take-out.

You gracefully allow him to crack the pasta and put it in the pot, but that was the most of it.

“I won’t be explaining to anyone how you hurt yourself in here.” You say, lowering the heat under steaming tomato sauce. You’re making pasta, he thinks, as you’ve told him that your knowledge on Korean cuisine isn’t enough for you to try your hand at it.

“You wouldn’t have to, I hurt myself all the time.” Namjoon chuckles, “Can I at least help you cut those?” he motions at the small bowl of washed onions, not waiting for an answer, he pulls a knife from the holder at the corner of the island. He knows how to hold a knife without too much trouble, at least.

As you skilfully prepare dinner, the conversation between you both flow naturally. Talking about whatever comes to mind, anything and everything and laughing over stories. You both settle to eat afterwards, and Namjoon can’t stop singing your praises, he’d go halfway to say that you cook better than Seokjin…Maybe he’s just biassed.

After Namjoon washed the dishes – he swore he wouldn’t let you do anything more – you both took your drinks of bottled beers to the living room. Sitting on the couch, and a movie playing on the mounted tv that neither of you pay attention to, far too engrossed in talking to each other; the well of topics never seems to run dry. Namjoon thinks that’s nice, there’s always something to talk about with you, even if you’re just telling him workplace gossip from two weeks ago, or rambling on about a shell you found on a beach when you were nine.

“Oh shoot-” You turn your wrist to look at your watch, the glass face catching the overhead lights. You squint at the time, something Namjoon once made fun of you for, because who has analogue watches anymore? He doesn’t find it in him to laugh at you now though, as the realisation dawns on him before you can say: “It’s really late…”

He checks his own watch without much reason – thirty minutes past midnight – and he frowns, he’s kept you way later than he intended. “Shit yeah, my bad. Sorry I kept you.”

You wave a hand, smiling at him, “No, it’s okay!” You place the half empty bottle of beer on the little black coaster on the coffee table. You stare out at the city for a quiet moment, “How hard is it to catch a taxi from here?” you ask, and then, quietly to yourself: “Maybe I should call an uber…”

It takes Namjoon a fraction of a second for his mind to fumble, trying to grasp at the words uselessly before they tumble out into the air. His mouth moves faster, though, “Or you could just stay here?”

He blinks at you and you blink back, the words hanging in the air long enough that Namjoon wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him, never to spit him out again. He stumbles with his words, dropping them as though the gears of his mind are grinding to a halt, coating in rust. “Um-If th…uh…you don…”

Then, you smile, your cheeks squishing your eyes. “Only if that’s okay.”

“More than.” Namjoon can’t help his smile back; grateful you didn’t mention him tripping over himself. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Twenty minutes later, Namjoon is digging through his drawers for something for you to wear for the night, the blush that had flushed his cheeks earlier had returned with a vengeance as he thought about the fact that you’re staying the night and would be wearing his clothes. He’s still beside himself, not too sure what to do, because this is so far beyond the two of you being friends and talking through calls and texts.

He settles on a long-sleeved tee shirt and black sweatpants and meets you back in the living room, where you stand at the window watching the lights twinkle down below and in the distance. When he announces his return, you turn, looking a little worried and Namjoon once again wonders if he’s crossed a line somewhere. You smile softly, taking the bundle of clothes from his arms.

“Thank you…” You say, and then, softer: “Are you sure it’s okay?”

Namjoon plants his hands on your shoulder, squeezing gently before he leads you back the way he came, following your steps closely with his own. He stops you right outside the bathroom door, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Namjoon lays awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. You’re sleeping in the room across from him, well, he assumes you’re asleep by now. The clock at his bedside blinks sleepily, but Namjoon finds it hard to let his mind settle.

When you’d come out of the bathroom earlier, a little over thirty minutes ago, you were practically drowning in his clothes. You’d rolled the legs of the pants a few times but it still swam around your ankles and the tee was at least three times your size.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in oversized clothing before. It’s simply the fact that it’s his. It’s been a good few months since he’s met you in that cafe, and a good few weeks since he’s realised he liked you.

It may have happened when you went off on one of your many rambles about something or the other. He’s not quite certain. After spending the entire day with you, Namjoon likes you in his space. Not once have you given him the need to run in the opposite direction, not once have you broken his trust.

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, kicking his feet under the blanket. Making up his mind, he gets out of bed and marches confidently to his door. He pulls it open and the edge of the door hits his toe. He stands for a moment, with his eyes closed, brows furrowed in pain and a hand over his mouth keeping the pained yelp trapped. “...Ow.”

He takes the five steps across the hallway, raises a hand to knock, takes a breath and turns on his heel. He walks a little ways up the hall.

“Okay. C’mon, it’s not that hard.” He mutters to himself, and then looks back at the door, “This is very hard.”

He’s not sure. He’s sure of himself, and his feelings, but...what if you’re not in the same place he is?

“Joon?” You poke your head out the door, and Namjoon startles. “You good?”

You didn’t look like you went to sleep and he woke you up, though your hair is a bit tousled and Namjoon would like to hope that you’d been just as restless as he was.

“Yeah...”

You give him a look that says you aren’t too convinced, “I heard a thud.”

“Oh...” The ache in his toe rings with a dull echo, and he looks down at his feet and then back at you, “Door...I jammed it against my toe.”

Your eyes flicker downward, and even in the dimly lit hallway he could see your amusement. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, happens all the time.”

“I’m concerned at the fact that you think accidentally hurting yourself this often is normal.” You laugh and Namjoon makes his way over to you but stops short and stares up at the ceiling. You’ve ditched the pants he gave you.

“What are we looking at?”

He glances at you and you’re also looking at the ceiling.

“You’re not wearing pants.”

You must’ve caught yourself, because there’s a soft gasp and the shuffling of your feet. When Namjoon brings his gaze back down you’re peeking at him from behind the door.

“Sorry!” You squeak out, “Sleeping in long pants is uncomfy.”

“It’s okay, I sleep naked sometimes so...” Namjoon couldn’t stop the words before they hit the air, and for a moment they simply hang there as you both stare at each other.

“Not that you should sleep naked...I mean – you can if you want to, really, doesn’t bug me at all...” He’s really trying to reign it in here. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping like that. As long as you’re comfortable!”

“Relax,” You laugh, sticking your hand out through the gap in the door and the frame to wave him down, “I’m not sleeping naked. I get cold fast.”

“There’s a solution for that.” Another pause, and Namjoon realises how his words sounded as you raise a brow at him, “The heater. There’s a heater in there. I wasn’t suggesting that I could...”

Namjoon sighs, he really does put his foot right in his mouth. So he does what’s best for everyone and just closes it.

Just when he was beginning to think that this moment would be at the top of his 'Awkward situations you’ve created' list, the gap widens just a bit and there’s something shy about your small smile and the way your eyes stay glued to the floor.

“I wouldn’t mind...” Your words are soft and Namjoon wonders for a moment if he misheard. This is the most shy he’s seen you in a while, looking up at him through your eyelashes, fingers caught in the hem of your borrowed tee-shirt; wringing the life out of the piece you hold.

“Yeah?” His voice is equally as soft, giving you room to change your mind if you so wished. You nod mutely and Namjoon gives you a second more to think carefully, only stepping forward when you step back and pull the door with you.

You leave the door open a crack, so that the light from the hallway bleeds into the darkness, and Namjoon watches as you walk over to the bed and crawl under the blankets.

There really isn’t much to this room, equipped with the essentials and a few nick-knacks and a bookshelf he’d put his other books on because there was no space on his other ones. There was a landscape painting hanging above the headboard, something he put there to give the room a bit more personality.

You’re peeking at him from the blankets, the soft mounds of material hiding most of your face from view. It’s a lot cooler here than his room, though the floor is cold under his bare feet and he briefly wondered if you need socks.

He walks soundlessly over and out of habit, he’s already pulling his tee-shirt over his head but pauses when it hangs on the length of his arms. “Shit – sorry.” He pokes his head back through the neck of the tee, “I run hot so I don’t usually sleep with a shirt on.”

“Is that why you sleep naked, too?”

Namjoon is grateful for the dark as heat runs up his neck. He takes it in stride, though, “Yeah. Clothes are constricting sometimes.”

There’s something else in your voice when you giggle, and there’s a shifting of the blankets. “You can keep it off if you want.”

Namjoon hums, “Are you okay with that?”

“As long as you’re comfortable.”

“Your comfort matters, too.” It’s not as though you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before; you shaded video calls during his workout sessions. Even though most of those are spent with you trying not to look at him – Namjoon’s caught you staring more times than he could count. This is different, though, he reminds himself; you’re no longer oceans away.

“I’m comfortable with it.”

“Okay.” Namjoon pulls his shirt off and folds it neatly, placing it on the nightstand before he climbs into bed next to you.

His side of the bed is cold, but he could feel your warmth just inches away. He turns to face you, lying on his side, finding your eyes in the dark.

“Hi.” You’re already facing him and in the darkness, Namjoon smiles.

“Hi.”

Your toes brush his under the covers and Namjoon hisses softly, “Are you cold?”

“A little...”

“Want me to get closer?” Namjoon whispers, and to his surprise, you move over first.

There’s a slight chill to your skin as you settle, resting your head where Namjoon extended his arm and then, close enough that your legs tangle with his and the ghost of your breath tickles his chest. You smell like him, like watermelon and mint; He’s once again grateful for the darkness.

Namjoon lets his other arm rest in the dip where the softness of your stomach meets your waist. It’s quiet when you both stop shuffling about, and your breaths are a tad nervous on the inhale.

“Okay?” Namjoon tries his best not to disturb the quiet, speaking softly. He feels you nod, and a slow flow of warm air as you sigh.

“You’re really warm.”

Namjoon chuckles, and silently, holds you tighter. He lets his chin rest on the top of your head, your hair tickles his nose. It smells faintly of his shampoo – he’s never loved it more. He wants to stay there forever, wrapped in the sweet, gentle scent of honeysuckle, melon and something uniquely you.

Namjoon wonders – and he knows, there’s no point in dwelling on the thought – what would’ve happened if he’d walked out of the cafe that day. Held captive by his responsibilities and his duty to keep his group and their image as spotless as possible. It would’ve been different had you not been the way you are.

He calls your name softly, and he wonders if you can feel the rapid pace of his heart beneath the warmth of your palm. It kicks against his sternum like he’s been running, and he takes a breath. There’s something unspoken here, in this darkened room where only the walls are listening.

Somewhere along the way, during the days that dragged the weeks into months – somewhere – a line was blurred.

Sleep wraps around your tired hum like a warm blanket, the sound of the sheets shifting further shattering the quiet as you lean back a little to look at him.

He lets his hand find the warmth of your cheek, moving until his thumb is resting against the front of your ear and his fingers are nestled in the softness of your hair.

“Wanna ask you something.” He says.

“What’s it?”

Distractedly, Namjoon’s fingers rub tentative circles in your scalp and catches the way your eyes flutter at the feeling.

He smiles when your eyes open and meet his, with the dark he grows confident, and softly: “Can I kiss you?”

His words hang in the air, heavy with desire and affection. In that moment, the weight of his request carries with it a profound realisation.

It’s not just a simple act of physical connection he seeks, but rather a deeper, more profound expression of love. His request bears the weight of all the emotions, vulnerabilities, and hopes he has placed upon this relationship.

The answer now rests in your hands, and Namjoon waits with bated breath for your response.

“Please.” Your answer dances between you both, and Namjoon angles your head upward slightly, and closes the gap with a tentative kiss. Your lips are soft and taste of mint when he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth. He doesn’t ask for much more, gentle in the way that he pulls you closer, fingers tangling in the soft hair at your nape.

In this moment, there is no need for words. The brush of your skin against his, the sweet taste of your kiss, and the way your bodies gravitate towards each other speak volumes.

Namjoon cherishes every second, every breath shared, as he grows more intoxicated by you.

His heart pounding in his chest, all thoughts of caution and restraint fade away. Giving in completely to his desire and lust, he pulls you close, not wanting this moment to end. The kiss is now an embrace, with both of you giving in fully.

His lips caress yours, his touch slowly becoming more and more intimate. His tongue finds yours, and Namjoon swallows the sound you make.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, you both take in a deep breath. It’s like everything around you becomes blurred, with only the two of you visible.

He runs his hands through your hair, looking into your eyes. He draws closer again, resting his forehead against yours.

He’s quiet, still for a moment, simply watching you in the dark. Your fingers tap softly against his chest, confusion and worry sit on the furrow of your brow.

“What wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your eyes each and then your forehead where he lingers. “It’s nothing... it’s just...”

“I want you to understand...” He continues softly after a breath, “My life can be overwhelming, it’s hard even for me some days. There’s times when I feel like I’ve worked hard only to get myself trapped in a bottle. Dangling above the view of millions who think I should live my life their way.

It isn’t easy. There’s always a risk that maybe one of us would slip up or something else. Privacy is something hard won and I’d hate for anything to happen that puts you in a position that you’ll regret.”

Namjoon lays his worries bare like cards going all in, focusing on the texture of your hair between his fingers. He allows you a moment to absorb his words, to really think.

The life of an idol isn’t for everyone; so many have cracked under the pressure of it. The life of an idol’s partner does not come any easier. Your relationship would be kept buried like a dirty secret to feed into the delusions of a certain variety of ‘fans’, all for the safety of the people involved.

If by some miracle, or a stroke of good luck, you choose to continue onward despite the challenges it would bring, Namjoon would be eternally grateful and he would spend his days making sure you never regret that choice.

“Joon...” Your hand meets his wrist, curling at his pulse. “I’ve known from the beginning what it would be like. You’ve got fans all over the world who adore you, and who would do just about anything to get close to you. It’s not easy to live a life like that, to be constantly watched and judged.

“But I knew that going in,” you continue. “I may not have expected to fall in love with you, but now that it’s happened, nothing else matters. I know what it’s like to have eyes always on you, and I’m willing to do anything to make it work.”

“You...you love me?” Namjoon's mind feels as though it blanked, though somewhere in the back among the cogs grinding to a halt your words have registered. Right now, he could only tunnel focus on that one thing.

“Oh god.” There’s a smile blooming on Namjoon’s lips as you groan an embarrassed sound, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He laughs softly, leaning back to catch your gaze but you evade him, bringing your hands up to cover your face instead.

Namjoon briefly wonders if this is what a moon orbiting a planet feels like. Ganymede does not question the gravity of Jupiter. It simply orbits the planet, accepting its fate. And Namjoon accepts his fate of being drawn to you. He is not swept up by your presence, but rather firmly grounded, and held in place. His feelings for you are as natural as the pull of gravity, as certain as the rotation of the Earth.

In your presence, everything shifts, and nothing else becomes important. Your gravity becomes his universe, and he is perfectly content to reside in it.

“I love you too.”

You peek at him through your fingers, and Namjoon doesn’t let the moment pass, prying your hands gently away from your face. He leans closer and presses a kiss to your lips, there’s nothing gentle about it this time – all teeth and tongue and quiet sounds that Namjoon swallows. He eases you onto your back with a gentle hand, slotting himself between your legs.

He trails his kisses down your neck, catching the skin with his teeth and sucking to leave his mark. He trails his hand down the length of your thigh, over the band of your underwear and under the soft cotton tee-shirt. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your hip, feeling the warmth of your skin and the way you tremble beneath his touch. He travels further still, up your ribcage to your breasts, feeling the soft curves and the way your nipples harden beneath his caress.

He feels the goosebumps that erupted at his touch, feels the hitch of your breath in your chest. Namjoon sucks a mark against your collarbone, he shifts so that he’s at your side, giving his hand more room.

He traces feather light touches along the expanse of your stomach and you giggle into his kiss. His fingers glide just above the waistband of your underwear, teasing until you whine his name.

Namjoon chuckles as he pulls away, “Can I?”

Words seem like more than you can manage and you nod. Namjoon gives a fleeting kiss, as his fingers dip lower, pushing aside your underwear to find your heat. The arousal clinging to your panties cools rapidly against the back of his hand, and Namjoon dips a finger into the warmth of you.

He keeps his eyes on your face as he does, watching the way your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. He nudges his nose against your cheek and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear. He’s barely touching you, keeping his fingers just shy of where he knows you want them the most.

It’s a while of teasing you this way, and Namjoon likes the way frustration bleeds into your soft, breathless moans when he circles your clit with his slick fingers and pulls away. He gives your neck and chest most of his attention, with gentle squeezes and his tongue tracing abstract patterns, drawing your nipples into his mouth with soft tugs of his teeth.

When the next whine of his name comes with teary eyes, Namjoon takes pity on you. The wet, tightness of you makes him groan and he pulls a hissing breath through his teeth, pressing his erection against your hip where he ruts in sync with the movement of his fingers.

He curls them upward, your back bows and he presses the heel of his palm against your clit. He kisses your cheek when your fingers wrap around his wrist, “I got you, baby.”

You gasp, your pleasure mounting until you can’t take it anymore. You writhe beneath his touch as you reach the peak of pleasure, calling out his name as you fall over the edge.

Namjoon gives you a moment to breathe, running his hand along your thighs and tummy. He takes your face in his hands once your breaths evened out, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing in your scent. His lips find yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless.

“Good?”

“Fuck – yeah.” Your fingers tug at his hair and Namjoon groans.

“Want me to go on?” He asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple and then, almost jumps right out of his skin when your other hand squeezes at his cock in his sweats. He lets out a chuckle that gets muddled by a moan that rumbles in his chest. “Baby.”

Namjoon sees the smile that curls in your lips, the innocent way you blink at him. You hum softly when he mouths at your jaw, a shudder runs through him and he can’t stop himself chasing the friction with a buck of his hips.

“You wan’it?” Namjoon’s drunk on you and you’ve barely done anything. You’re tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants, and he groans, letting his forehead rest against your chest when your hand wraps around his cock and tugs upward. “Ah, Fuck.”

He feels your hand against his chest and lies back when you push gently. He watches as you tug his tee-shirt and your underwear off, and he quickly follows to take his sweats off.

He slides his hands up your thighs when you settle on his. A breath catches in his throat when you wrap both hands around the width of his cock. His fingers gripping where your thighs meet your hips, and he watches with heavy lidded eyes as you lean forward slightly and spit. The dollop of saliva lands deftly on the head of his cock and Namjoon’s eyes roll back as you focus there.

You’re twisting your wrists, the slick sound of it and Namjoon’s harsh breaths are the only sounds in the quiet room. When he feels his lower stomach clench he grabs your wrist and still your movement.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of literally anything else, “You’ll make me cum if you keep doing that.”

Your giggle rings like a bell and Namjoon smiles at the sound. Sitting up he pulls you forward, trapping his throbbing cock between his stomach and the heat of your cunt. He groans at how wet you are, blunt teeth nipping at your jaw. “Wanna ride it?” He breathes, “Hm? Wanna fuck me?”

He feels your nod, feels the shuddering breath you release against his hair. “Words, Princess.”

“Yeah, wanna fuck you.”

Namjoon helps you balance, guiding his cock – slick with your juices – to your entrance. He sucks on your tongue as you come down slowly, and Namjoon swears he’s seeing the pearly gates behind his tightly shut eyes when your walls flutter.

He lies back, giving you a moment and short, shallow thrusts. You look so beautiful above him, your hair a rumpled mess, throat and chest covered in bruises of his own making. He gives a single thrust, a hand sliding up your sweat slicked skin to palm at your breast, his other hand landing a harsh slap against your ass.

You squeak out a moan and Namjoon chuckles, doing it again, “C’mon, baby girl. Fuck me.”

Your hands press against his tummy, hips rising slowly and coming back down. He lets you set the pace, content to lie back and take what you give. He could feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, and Namjoon tightens his grip on your hips.

He plants his feet flat on the bed, meeting you halfway with his thrusts. He pulls you down with a hand behind your neck, when your chest meets his he wraps his other arm around your waist and sets a brutal pace.

“Feels so fucking good.” Namjoon groans, “Pussy’s so good—fuck.”

You’re moaning right in his ear, whining, breathless sounds that makes him fuck you harder. Without warning, your thighs squeeze at his sides and you tremble above him. Your orgasm pools in his groin in a gush of warmth, your moans pitching an octave with his name and Namjoon swears, fucking you through it.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.” Namjoon groans, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He slows his thrusts and gently eases you off him, he settles behind you when you’re on your stomach, lifting your hips to meet his.

Your moans are muffled by the sheets when he thrusts forward. He holds you steady with a hand gripping your waist and the other on the back of your neck. He focuses his thrusts on the spot that makes your walls tighten and drip.

He looks down to watch his cock disappear inside you, and the way your ass jiggles from the force of his thrusts. “Fuc—M’gonna cum. Where you want it?”

You meet his thrusts halfway, “Inside.”

“You sure?” Namjoon pants, slowing down just a bit.

“Yeah—wanna feel you. Please, daddy.”

Lightning shoots down his spine, curses in his mother tongue trapped behind his teeth as he spills his release inside you. He holds you pressed against him, balls deep, moaning at every throb of his cock.

He pulls you closer when he lays down, peppering kisses all over your face and wherever he could reach. When you’ve both caught your breaths, you finally speak, chin propped on your hand on his chest.

“Daddy, huh? That does it for you?” You’re giggling and Namjoon throws an arm over his eyes, groaning.

“Shut up.” He can’t help his smile, “You’re the one who said it, so I think it’s the other way around actually.”

“We’re both gonna lose if we go there.”

A half hour later, after the sheets in the guest bedroom were stripped and you and him are settled for the night in his room, Namjoon wouldn’t change a thing if he had the power to. He’d go into that cafe and sit at your table every time.

Ganymede has no choice in the matter, he would orbit Jupiter as long as she allows it.

Tagging (Bold means i couldn't tag ):) : @xpeachesncream @luaspersona @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @eoieopda @euphoricfilter @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @eren-fall @blog-name-idk @idkreallys-blog @thvunaise @menialthoughts

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fan-goddess · 7 months

Note

I need for kinktober aemond with daddy kink x innocent!reader so badddddd :((

my birthday’s on the 10th and I would love to see it there :))

Authors Note: Happy Birthday! Please do take this as my present to you I hope you have a nice day! Also, I changed daddy to kepa, just as I thought the Valyrian word would suit him better.

Warnings: P in v smut, corruption, daddy kink, innocent reader, power imbalance, (if I miss any let me know)

Taglist: @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

The newest maid was nice to look at, Aemond thought. You were nice in general too. You’d always make eye contact with him and never stare at his eye with disgust. Whenever you knew he was sad, you would always sneak an extra lemon tart to him at dinner. He could never dare tell you how he found the dessert a little too sweet on his tongue.

Yet there’s other things he could never dare tell you. He couldn’t tell you how he dreams of taking you in the middle of the night, when he could not sleep and only had his hand for company. He could not dare to venture to the silk street. Not after what happened those many years ago…

“My prince? I’ve brought you those books that you requested.” You say, bringing him from his inner turmoil.

“Ah yes thank you dōna riña. I appreciate the effort.” He says, turning his head to look at you as you place the heavy looking books on his desk.

“It is no problem my prince! Besides, I will soon not be doing these tasks so I’ve decided to take as much joy as I can in doing them as of late.”

“What do you mean you won’t be doing these tasks soon?” The statement makes his head jerk to stare intently. The grip of his chair has tighten and Aemond already knows his face has turned stern to hide his shock.

“Well, my parents back home have decreed that it is time I marry. So they have found a nice man for me and have decided in a months notice I’ll return to them and he’ll take me as his bride.”

The anger Aemond feels at that moment is greater than anything he’s felt in his life. Even more than when he lost his eye. His fists force themselves clench at his side to stop himself from taking ahold of you and keeping you here by his side.

As there’s another, more satisfactory way of doing that, which’ll no doubt be better for the both of you.

“Do you like this man byka mēre?”

“I cannot say my prince. For I have never met him. All I have been told is his name, and what it is I should do for him as his wife. Although, I must say I was confused as I read them.”

“Oh? Why were the words so confusing?”

“Because they told me of giving him pleasure, and about how I should lie on my wedding bed and allow him to ‘take me’. But the thing is my prince, I have no idea what it is my family is saying to me…”

Any words Aemond had thought of using to reply to your confession does the minute he attempts to speak them. His fists, which once clenched as his side with anger, now clench with self restraint. How could this, creature made by the mother herself, be married to some old fuck of a lord who will show you an unfulfilled life?

Maybe that will be his reason when he claims you tonight for himself…

For whilst he has always fulfilled his duty as a second son, he has been making his worth known his whole life, and it is time he indulges on it with someone of his choosing.

Aemond rises from his chair for a moment before leaning to you and carefully brushes a strand of hair from your face. He feels the urge to grin when he sees the way your face has changed to a light pink.

“What if I was to show you these acts? Then you can be sure to know what to do on your wedding night?”

“A-are you sure? I’m not sure-“

“Do you not trust your prince byka mēre? Is that it?”

“No no no my prince it is not-“

“Then I do not see the issue. So be a good girl byka mēre and get on that bed, and lay on your back for me.”

“Yes my prince…”

“No. Do not call me that. I have heard your lips say that title long enough to commit it to memory. I think I’d like to hear something new spring from your lips byka mēre. Call me kepa.”

“O-okay kepa…” The words make all the blood rush to his cock, and it only worsens when he sees you laid out for him, looking at him with hooded eyes.

“Good girl…” He mutters, as he stalks towards you.

When he gets close enough, his hands travel up the length of your naked legs, and stops at the skin of your upper thigh.

“I’m going to pull up the length of your dress now byka mēre. I need to reveal your cunt to me for me to help you.” Maybe he should feel bad about how he’s effectively taking advantage of you. But it being bad felt this good, how could he ever resist?

His mouth kisses slightly the soft skin of your upper thigh, just a little below where your smallclothes are, sucking small bruises to hear the whimpers you seem to be unable to contain.

Aemond has to try to contain his satisfied grin when he swiftly tears your smallcothes clean off. Yet even he cannot contain his groan of arousal when he feels the slight wet patch that had formed there.

“Such a good girl…” He groans, leaning in to lick a thick stripe of your cunt and practically moaning at the taste. It’s sweet to the tongue, possibly due to the strawberries he sees you consume at least three times a day. But it’s easily one of the best things he’s had in his entire life.

It gets even better when he hears your broken moans above him, and the feeling of your hands gripping desperately at his hair and the sheets. When your legs try to close around his head, his hands grip at your naked thighs tightly to keep you still.

“Kepa please! S-somethings happening!” He hears you whine. The sound of you begging for him makes him want to grind against the bedding for any sort of available friction, but he can’t risk cumming already and wasting his load. Not when it needs to be taking root inside of you…

“You want kepa to pleasure you more huh?” Aemond grins, relishing in the sad noise you make when he takes his mouth away from your glistening heat to lazily suck at the skin of your thighs.

“More?” You whisper. Your eyes a glazed mess as the look at him.

“Yes byka mēre. I can make you feel even greater pleasure than the small fraction you felt now. Would you like that?”

“Yes…”

“Yes what byka mēre?”

“Yes kepa…”

“What a good fucking girl I have in my bed…” Aemond groans, smiling at the sight of you preening at his words before striping himself nude in front of you. His ego certainly swells when he sees you can’t take your eyes of his erect cock.

“W-will it even fit kepa?” You murmur as you eye him in anxiousness.

“Even if it doesn’t at first. I’ll make it fit…” He says, taking his cock in his hand and positioning himself at your entrance.

He slides himself in slowly. Taking the time to make sure you were comfortable and not in pain. Though by the amount you were leaking when he was licking you, he guessed you were wet enough for what he was about to do.

When Aemond got halfway in, his impatience took over and made him thrust the rest of his cock in. And as soon as you gave him the nod of approval, he was officially a man possessed.

He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting as hard and deep as he could inside you. The sounds of your moans seemed to spur him on as-well, the high pitched whines ringing all throughout the room for him to hear. He almost wishes he could put a hand over your mouth to make sure only he can hear you. But then that would push you away, and he can’t have that not at all…

“O-oh Aemond! S-somethings happening!” You shout, digging your nails into the skin of his back and tilting your head back so much he gets the temptation to place a bite on your neck.

Which he does with a grin as he pinches at your clit with his pointer and index fingers. The sound of your surprise as it blended into a sound of pleasure was one Aemond doesn’t think he could ever forget.

“Don’t worry about it byka mēre… it’s just your peak.” He says, pinching your pearl harder as you clench more and more around his cock as it throbs at the feel of you.

As you do peak, he can feel the warmth that surrounded his cock get tighter, and its what brings him to his peak to. He can feel the warmth of his cum entering you, and when he pulls out finally, he can see his cum dripping out of you in thick drools. It almost makes him want to fuck your all over again.

Yet he doesn’t for your sake. The sake of his pretty little maid who has no idea what they’ve done. Still, he sits beside you still naked as the day he’s born and moves you to rest your head on his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, and he intertwines it and with his own.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #my works #aemond targaryen/reader

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starlithumanity · 5 months

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I don't even know what you can say to the people who somehow missed that all of Ed's violence is a) anti-imperial, b) protective against direct repeated threats to himself and his loved ones, or c) self-destructive in the hopes someone will respond by killing him during his suicidal spiral. (That last example is fairly indirect and performative and comes from a place of severe nihilistic suffering.)

I don't know what you can say to the people who somehow missed that the violence is triggering and traumatic and exhausting for Ed, and that he is desperate for a chance to live differently but has also never known any other life. Stede gave him the one true glimpse he's had of something gentler! Ed didn't fully know how fucked up his life was before because that was normal to him. That's what growing up traumatized does to you.

I don't know what you can say to the people who somehow missed that the suicidal spiral is a result of Ed's circumstances: of Ed being threatened by Izzy after Izzy repeatedly found ways to force Ed back towards the violent life Ed wants so much to escape, of Ed losing his one glimpse at safety and happiness through Stede and now having to face the darkness knowing he nearly found something different, of Ed feeling like the only way he can survive in this world is by being an "unlovable" monster he hates--and then he's confronted by Izzy telling him he's still not getting it right. Of course Ed gives up then.

I don't know what you can say to the people who somehow missed the show's themes about how much harm is caused by toxic masculinity and by masking your true self and by cultures founded on trauma and self-hate and burnout. (You do see the burnout in Ed, yeah?)

I do get why some people might not understand the complexities of Ed's relationship with Izzy--how codependent and enmeshed their identities are--or the layers of symbolism that position Izzy in the story as a metaphor for traditional pirate culture and its harmful impact. (Which is particularly triggering for Ed on a daddy issues level because that's his original trauma.) If you understand those things, the unique nature of the physical harm Ed does to Izzy in this story makes even more sense.

Ed also frequently communicates through metaphor himself. Him cutting off Izzy's toes is not only a show trying to convince Izzy he's playing Blackbeard right and not only a response to Izzy repeatedly threatening Stede/continuing to threaten Ed, but also is meant to physically represent the harm that Izzy has done emotionally to Ed. Ed is communicating to Izzy the only way he knows how anymore: "See how it feels to be forced to lose parts of yourself? Stede was a part of me. My hopes of softness and joy were a part of me. You cut those off too."

There is so much evidence against the thought that Ed is some irredemable, monstrous lover of violence who will hurt Stede someday. Stede would have to repeatedly and directly threaten someone else Ed loves first (which Stede won't do), and even then, Ed would really have to fight with himself.

It's not his nature, y'all, and I'm so frustrated that some people keep insisting it is. I'm frustrated about what that says about people's ability to empathize and consider reasons for or contexts behind behaviors--particularly when the character in question is an openly queer and likely neurodivergent indigenous man. Is it so hard to have compassion and forgiveness for him? Please don't get stuck in that punitive, dehumanizing mindset.

Redemption is so important, which is why I appreciate that Izzy gets a growth arc once he stops centering his entire identity on the Blackbeard persona and clinging to toxic masculinity. (Seeing Stede's impact, how different things could be, vs. the harm caused by the traditional ways, changes Izzy too!) Izzy's time, as a side character and mentor figure and piracy metaphor, does end, but first he gets to live with more meaning and unlearn many of the negative behaviors. That's the goal, right? To move forward.

#i try to avoid negative discourse but damn guys #edward teach #our flag means death #izzy hands #stede bonnet #my stuff

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c0ntraversial-h0rr0r-c0ntent · 2 months

Text

A Lace Surprise [Bo Sinclair x female reader] | NSFW

You buy some lingerie and Bo fucks you in it. 1.7k [daddy kink, lingerie (getting ruined), penetration, Bo being a lil toxic and possessive, huuuge dick]

“What’s that baby girl?”

God fucking damnit. You freeze. He wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour.

“I thought you were working.”

“Oh,” His brow furrows and he steps towards you. You try to back up but hit the door—shit, there’s to go. “I’m sorry baby, am I not allowed to come home early? To my fuckin’ house?”

“No I just,”

“I just wanted to come home early and see my girl and now,” His eyes narrow. “I have to deal with you bein’ sneaky. What’s in the fucking bag?”

“It’s,” He snatches it out of your hand before you explain. He reaches in and pulls out the first piece, one of the satin stockings.

“Aw princess, why didn’t you just tell me you had a little present for me?”

He pulls the other stocking out, then holds up the lace underwear.

“Good choices baby.” He purrs. Then the garter belts. That was the real present—Bo loves the way his fingers dig into your thighs and you’ve always wondered if he’d feel the same way about watching something else press into them. The fact that they were leather didn’t hurt either.

He doesn’t say anything, just puts his hands on your shoulders and brings you away from the wall. He hands you the bag, then brings an arm behind your knees and one behind your shoulders and suddenly you’re in the air.

Bo loves carrying you around. You suspect it’s because of his control issues but you’re definitely not complaining. The first time he had gone to pick you up you were taken aback—“are you sure you can carry me?” He had just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t hide at the window and watch me work out, because I know you do, so I think you know damn well that I can do whatever I please with you.”

He carries him to your shared bedroom and drops you on the bed. “Take all that off.” He says, motioning to your clothes.

As you strip, Bo takes off his jumpsuit, tossing it to the floor. He leaves his boxers on but just seeing the lingerie has got him chubbing.

“Stand up.”

You stand and he sits down, legs spread. He pulls you in by the hips so that you’re standing between them, then slides your underwear down. He puts his hand behind your knee, bringing it up enough to slip your panties off.

He brings them to his face.

“Now honey I know what your undies smell like at the end of the day, this isn’t my baby girl running errands, this smells like someone’s been soaking wet for a while. Is that right baby?”

You nod. He raises his eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes daddy.”

“That’s right.” He swipes two fingers through your lips, purposefully grazing your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “She gets so wet for me, doesn’t she?”

He picks the bag up from where you had set it on the floor and pulls out your new underwear, see-through lace with straps to hug your hips. Low rise because everything you wear around him is, he fucking loves it.

“Step into it.” He holds them out for you to step into and then slides them up your legs, palm pushing against your crotch to secure them. You can’t help but whimper.

He grabs your ass with his other hand, fingers digging into you through the lace. “Go on sugar, grind against my hand.”

He holds eye contact as you slowly roll your hips. “That’s it, doll. Doing so good for me.”

You watch the buldge in his boxers grow, his cock straining to get out, while you rub yourself against his hand. You let out a trembled moan.

“Alright that’s enough.” He takes his hand away and fishes the garter belts out of the bag. He slides the left and then the right carefully up your legs, raising them high on each thigh.

He traces the sides of your thighs where you spill out of your stockings.

“So gorgeous.” He presses his face in between your thighs, pressing a kiss to the left then the right, just above where the garter presses into your skin.

He looks up at you and motions to your bra. “And take that off.”

It’s so vulnerable, taking off your bra while he dresses you up like his doll.

“Bein’ so good for me, such a good girl.”

He rolls the stockings up and clips them, then pulls the left side up a bit so they’re perfectly symmetrical. He nudges your hips, gently turning you around. He kisses through your lace.

“This is one hell of a present honey.”

“Do you want me to,”

“Bend over.”

You hear him rustling, taking himself out of his boxers with one hand, the other wrapped around your thigh, thumb stroking the back of your stocking.

“I’m gonna ask you a question and I need you to tell me the truth.”

You nod.

“Now when you went and picked this up you were thinking about I what I was gonna do to you in it, isn’t that right? Words, Princess.

“Yes daddy.”

“Were you thinking about me fuckin’ you, you thinkin’ about getting fucked so hard that I bruise up your insides? Or did you want it real gentle?”

“Gentle.” You whisper.

“I’m gonna ask you to do something and it’s gonna hurt, alright? But I’m asking because I know you can take it.”

You nod and he pulls your underwear to the side and chuckles. “She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” He presses a kiss over your open, soaking wet hole.

“I need you to sit down on my lap, okay baby? All the way down, can you do that for me?”

You slowly bring your hips down, one hand still holding your panties to the side, the other on your hip guiding you down

He helps like the two of you up just right and then you feel it—even taking just the tip feels like it’s going to split you open.

“Fuck, you’re doin’ so good honey, why don’t we keep it like this for a minute, let your body get used to it.”

It’s too much. Even when he’s fingers you it’s too much but this, this is so intense—he’s so thick.

“How’s that feelin’?”

“It’s a lot daddy.” You whimper.

“Just grind on my tip, you’re doing so good.” He soothes.

You lift your hips a few times, getting used to it spearing in and out of you. The head is always the trickiest to fit inside. You lower yourself down an inch and then repeat, fucking the inch in and out, letting your body open up.

“I’m ready for it daddy, it’s just scary,” you babble. “Want you to do it.”

“Aw is daddy’s dick scary?” He croons. “That’s alright. Deep breath baby.” He grabs both hips and brings you down, fucking his entire length inside.

“Oh,” You squeal. “Fuck.”

“Lay back on me, honey.” He grabs a few pillows from the head of the bed to put behind his back. He leans against them and pulls you to him, your back against his chest. He spreads your legs to hook over his.

He wraps his left arm around your chest and puts his right hand in between your thighs.

“How are you feeling baby, gotta use your words.”

“I’m so full.” You whine. He grabs your hand and intertwines it with his, then bringing them back down between your legs.

“You are. Feel that?” He leads your hand to his balls. “That’s my entire cock inside you. You’re taking all of it, such a good girl.”

It doesn’t hurt when he’s still, especially when you squeeze down on him—not hurt, more sore. It’s when he bucks his hips that you get that jolt of pain.

“Fuck, daddy.” Your voice is shaky.

“I know baby, it hurts when I’m right up against your cervix but you’re doing so good.”

He moves two fingers to your clit over the lace and fucks up into you, and when your hips move with him, his clothed fingers give you the friction you need.

You begin to slide yourself up and down on him, chasing the feeling of his fingers.

“Hurts so good daddy.”

“That’s my girl.”

The pain mixes with his pleasure and every thrust leaves you sore and aching and needing more.

“Can I cum daddy?”

“Course you can.”

You sink down as far as you can, taking every inch and pushing yourself against Bo’s hand. You move your hips back and forth, no rhythm, just the feeling of his fingers on your clit and the throbbing of his cock deep inside you.

“Fuck daddy, right there.”

You’re sure you look desperate, grinding on his cock like that, hair flying everywhere and filling the room with wet squelching noises, but you don’t care. It’s too good to care.

You squeeze down on him when you cum, gripping him tight inside you. To his credit, he really could have cum right there right then, but he had other plans and, with everything in him, restrained himself.

Once you’ve slowed down you lay back against him. His cock is still hurried is die you hit you’re too tired to try to shift it out.

He doesn’t ask anymore. He knows your mind is still floaty and fucked out. He just acts.

He lifts you off his cock and sets you down on the bed, then, with a gentle nudge to your shoulders, turns you over.

He straddles you and rests his cock between your ass cheeks, balls resting heavy on your upper thighs.

“That’s it honey, you lay there and fuckin’ take it. You let daddy cum on your pretty new panties.”

He slips his cock underneath them and presses himself against you, between your cheeks. Then you feel it, shooting out and hitting the lace then dripping into your skin.

“That’s my good girl,” He shouts. “Good girl taking daddy’s load on her ass.”

Once he’s finished he rolls you over again, knowing you’re too weak to do it yourself. He lays next to you, on his side, one arm draped over you and the other under your neck.

“Did so good for me.” He presses a kiss to your cheek.

“You messed up my panties.”

“Don’t you worry baby, I’ll buy you more. Daddy will buy you whatever you want.”

#house of wax #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #slasher x you #slasher fucker #slasher fanfiction

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

Text

Afterglow

someone requested angst, i wrote angst.

Pairing: Peter Parker (mcu) X Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count:7K

Warnings: hint of degradation kink, ifykyk.

Summary: peter shouldn't have said what he did, but you shouldn't have pushed him to do it.

“I think it’s best if you leave now, kid.”

Kid, usually used with endearment left a bitter taste in Tony’s mouth. He adored the kid, loved that his own kid loved this kid, you both were quite the match in Tony’s opinion. He couldn’t think of another person who could even come half close to who Peter was for you, in fact when you finally confided in your dad about your crush on Peter he encouraged you to go after him, and you did.

Tony was proud when you made it official, he knows how much you both deserve each other.

Tony absolutely loved Peter, he took him under his wing and only saw himself in him. But his good self, none of the selfish or hotheadedness or rash thinking. Peter thought things through, he thought of the consequences, and he considered each option tediously.

Correction, Peter usually thought things through carefully and fully. Tony doesn’t see that sign of him tonight.

You and Peter got in a fight, and Tony doesn’t think you ever have. Maybe you’ve just never told him, and he knows you have disagreements and petty arguments but you don’t fight.

If he’s being honest he doesn’t know what about either, he just knows Peter entered through the ground floor and the second the elevators opened he bolted to your door, brushing by without a hi. Peter was on a mission, had one objective in his mind and had no idea that Tony was even watching him enter into his daughter’s bedroom and slam the door shut.

And he left it alone, you can protect yourself, you can defend yourself. So he lets you, and he hears muffled words at first for a while, then it gets quiet, then it gets louder again. Finally he heard shouting, he was hearing bits of conversations.

“-Fucking listen to me! You never-”

“Stop yelling at me! You came in-”

“...And you swore that she..”

“Oh come off it! You’re such a fucking-”

“Peter, stop!”

Tony thinks it’s time to intervene, he was being patient and waiting it out. But he doesn’t like the way this sounds, not because it was becoming toxic, but because he doesn’t want it to ruin anything between you two.

“And if we are being totally honest here, Y/N, I really fucking hate that you act like a fucking-”

A tight hand is clasped on his shoulder, “I think it’s best if you leave now, kid.”

Peter jumps slightly, he didn’t even know Tony was home. Oh, he was, and listening to him berate his daughter.

“Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, I just-”

Peter lowered his gaze from Tony’s dark eyes, he was screaming with rage.

“You don’t apologize to me. You apologize to her, then you leave.”

“Baby, I,” You sniffle and stare at the carpet, you weren’t innocent either but you felt like a little kid on display.

Peter sighs, “Can I talk to her alone? Please, Mr. Stark.”

Tony shakes his head and tightens his hold.

“There’s no need, Parker. Say sorry and leave.”

Peter looks and feels frustrated, he loves Tony but this is an issue between him and his daughter, he wishes Tony would just walk away. Peter continues to stare at you hoping you feel his eyes and look towards him, then he could tell you with no words to tell your dad to get lost.

This was a you and him problem.

“Y/N?” Peter called your name impatiently, you refused to look or speak to him. Tony’s hand was feeling tighter, he wanted to throw it off him.

“Fucking really?” He slapped his hands on his pants, Tony shook his arm slightly.

“Peter, I-”

Peter cut Tony off, Tony didn’t know how to react. This was a battle between boyfriend and dad now, who would win the loyalty?

“You’re gonna let daddy run the relationship now? It’s funny how you can always start a fucking fight but never finish them.”

Finally you glare at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you pick! You pick at something until it becomes a big thing then suddenly you want to back out. You started this fight so you should finish it, not cry and play damsel in distress when daddy comes around.”

“Parker!” Tony barks at Peter, he’s never heard him this fired up before. And he literally fights alongside him with some of the worst people.

Peter grunts and shoves Tony’s hand off him, “Fuck off, Tony.”

Tony feels like he’s swallowed his tongue, he doesn’t know where to begin with that one. The fact Peter always refers him to Mr. Stark, or the fact he just told him to fuck off.

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, Mr. Parker, but I assure you that calling it a rest for tonight would be best for everyone involved.”

Peter sneered, “Or what? You’ll take my suit and my ‘girlfriend’ will follow daddy’s path and dump me?” He used air quotes around girlfriend, it made you stutter on your breath.

“Sounds like you want me to take the suit.”

“If thats the only thing you can hold over my head, fucking take it. I don’t want it, I don’t want anything in this room right now.” He made sure to burn right through you when he uttered the last part, he made it clear he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.

“You don’t mean that, right?” You spoke softly, you wanted this to end right now. It was getting too heated, you’ve never seen Peter this livid before. It felt like he was about to dump you.

Peter guffawed and looked amazed, “It’s honestly so impressive to me how great you are at bullshitting, Y/N. I mean you get to pick at this all day long, then you start the fight by saying the worst shit you could, now you're cowering in a corner. Big girl problems come with big girl consequences.”

You blinked at the ground and held back tears, you mumbled out an apology. Tony watches silently, he knows Peter needs to leave but he’s not sure how to do it without hurting you too.

Peter scoffed at your sorry, “You weren’t sorry when you were acting like a bitch-”

Peter is cut off by Tony violently ripping him backwards, “Out. Get the fuck out, right now.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t mean to say that. Well, actually, maybe he did.

“Mr.”

Tony kept a hand on his chest and started pushing, “No. You’re done, you’re leaving and you’ll talk in the morning.”

Peter grunted and pushed his feet to the floor, without the iron suit Tony didn’t have a match for his strength.

“Kid, don’t make me get the suit out. Just leave, you’ve got your point across. Say you’re sorry and we’ll see you in the morning.”

Peter looks confused, “Sorry for what?”

Tony sighs, he wants this to be over. He wants Peter gone.

“For calling my daughter a bitch.”

You look over your dad at Peter and raise the corner of your lip up, the smallest of olive branches. Peter clocks your eyes and you see no reprieve, he looks back at Tony.

He fixes his jacket and nods at Tony, “I’m sorry.”

Tony acknowledges the apology, “Th-”

“That your daughters a bitch.”

Peter feels a bit more satisfied to see the small smile drop from your face, your bottom lip trembles. He’s glad he’s missing out on the theatrics, daddy can clean up the mess.

“Does this mean we’re not dating anymore?” Your voice wobbles, you call out to him before your dad can even think of punching him.

Peter doesn’t clap back as quickly as you thought he would, he’s taking a step back and looking at the situation. It was bad, he thinks he went a little too far but he can’t backtrack now. Especially because he’s still upset over what happened today, he shouldn’t have called you a bitch but he also wanted to hurt you like you did him.

Peter thinks of his rule, arguments between you two were rare and harsh. Way too much emotion got involved and it got heated quickly, he made a rule. No matter how bad the argument never, ever break up in the moment. If he wanted to he could do it the next day, when he was fighting all he could think about was being right, not about preserving the relationship.

He sighs and watches as Tony’s hand pushes him further and further out the door, he looks at you defeated and tired. He tried to open his mouth, to say sorry, to take it back, to let you know he wouldn’t dare break up with you, to let you know he’s pissed but apologetic.

Tony won’t let him.

“Absolutely no words from you, Parker. You lost that privilege. I want you out of my fucking tower in two minutes.” He turns Peter and pushes him towards the elevator, he stays silent and watches as the numbers click down slowly. Each floor he’s lowered he can still hear your bubbled cries as you asked your dad over and over if he dumped you, and Tony sighed and repeated he didn’t know.

You waited almost all morning for Peter, whether it be a text, a phone call, or just showing up. Did Peter go too far last night? Absolutely. Did you aid and abet his behavior, pushing him until he had to bite back? Yeah, you did.

Your dad missed that part, the part where you attacked him first. Called him out in the worst way and nearly publicly shamed him for something he didn’t do, you belittled him so of course Peter felt attacked, then when he was looking to you for help, when he was willing to resolve peacefully you ignored him and pretended he was the bad guy.

You’re not mad he doubled down on calling you a bitch, you were one. And not a cool ass bitch kind of bitch, the pussy, cowardly kind of bitch.

You were just curious if he ended it last night, it didn’t seem like he did, but he was also really, really mad. You genuinely felt like this was more than half your fault, you should tell this to Peter, but you were too much of a bitch.

“Dad?”

Tony looked up from his desk and felt his heart plummet, you stood in his doorway with a blanket that Peter got you thrown over your shoulders, it was printed with your favorite animal. Your hair was frizzy and you had heavy eyes, your clothes looked too big for you, it was almost like you were shrunken into yourself.

“Hey, honey. What’s up?”

You slid your sock covered toe across the hardwood, you bit your lip to try and stop the tremble of your bottom lip, it did nothing. Fat tears gushed from your eyes, you wailed at your dad. You wanted nothing more than for him to take the pain away, you messed up, not Peter.

“I messed up last night and he’s gonna end it!”

Your shoulders shake with each sob and exhale, you’re spiraling. You didn’t mean to push him that far, you got too far into your head and insecurities took over, and now you were going to lose him all because you couldn’t buck up and say sorry first. Tony rushed over to hold you in his grasp, he held so tight you could lean all your weight on him.

“Dad, he can’t dump me, please, Dad. Please tell him I didn’t mean it, please, daddy.” You gulped the words into his chest, he tried shushing you but it was no use.

Peter freezes when he enters the ground level.

He hears your wails, your begging. He can’t breathe, he didn’t know he could make you feel this way. He came to apologize, he should’ve never, ever called you that word.

“Dad, please! Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Tell him I'm sorry, I don’t want him to break-up with me, please don’t let him break up with me!”

Tony tries his best to calm you, it's making things worse.

“Peter’s not going to break up with you, it’s okay.”

You screech, “He is! He is, he is, he is! He hates me, I messed up and I didn’t tell him sorry!”

Peter wants to know why you would think he’s going to dump you. Was he pissed last night? Oh, you betcha he was steaming. Was he pissed you didn’t apologize after you started the entire thing and spin it on him when your dad came barging in? Yeah, he was nearly seeing red.

But he wouldn’t dump you, not at all. And he would’ve told you that last night but your dad made him shut his mouth and it was for the better that he did. He wanted to leave it up to you to call or text, he figured you needed space from him since he’s the one that was verbally abusing you, so when you didn’t reach out he figured he needed a lashing from you in person.

This definitely isn’t what he thought he would walk into.

“Y/N, Y/N! You have to calm down, do you want me to call Peter?”

‘Yes, call Peter. Call me.’ He thinks to himself, he wonders how bad it would be if he walked in. The last thing he wants to do is make it worse.

“No! No, no, no, no! You can’t, he’ll dump me if he sees me, I know it.”

Your breathing is ragged, you feel like you're going to pass out. You hiccup words through your sobs, “You can’t let him do it, dad. Don’t let him end it, please.”

Peter thinks he needs to intervene, the only thing that will calm you is him saying he wasn’t planning, or ever planning to break up with you. It was a real bad fight, the worst you’ve had so far, but he wasn’t going to throw years down the drain over it. If you were his forever he needed to be able to handle a few fights.

He immediately starts to jog down the hall until he hits your dads office. He felt like crying himself when he saw how wrapped up in your dad you were while crying so hard you were gasping.

“Baby?”

It was cautious, gentle even. He didn’t want to upset or alarm you, just wanted to let you know he’s here and not leaving anytime soon.

Tony looks up at him and lets out a breath of relief, he can only do so much here. Peter was the one who could truly fix it.

“Y/N, Peter’s here.” You shook your head in your dads chest.

“Don’t let him do it, dad.”

Tony sighs and presses a kiss to your head, “I don’t think he’s here to end it, squirt. I think he just wants to chat, nicely,” He eyes Peter in the doorway, his eyes only steady on his girlfriend. “Right, Peter?”

He jumps awake, “Huh? Yeah, right. Uh huh.”

Peter takes a small step forward, “Hey, trouble. Wanna come give me a hug?”

You open one eye to peek at him, he didn’t look so bad. You were still terrified he would pull you away and break the news in private, you closed your eye and shuffled in closer to your dad and squeezed, begging him not to let you go. Your sobs stopped, just lingering tears and huffed air.

“No? I missed you so much last night, I think it was the first time in months I didn’t have a goodnight kiss.”

You stayed silent but loosened your hold on Tony some, you sniffled.

“And I was such a dunce I didn’t get a goodbye kiss, your dad had to get me out of here before I missed out on every kiss.” Peter kept talking, he knew it would steady you.

“What do you mean?” Your words were muffled.

Peter’s heart soared, you were talking to him.

“I mean I was so out of line that I wouldn’t blame you if you dumped me.”

You open your eyes and push your dad away some, “I don’t want to dump you, do you want to dump me?”

Peter looked at Tony and tilted his head, and this time Tony knew he needed to disappear.

“Can we talk? I’ll go anywhere you want.” Tony nodded his head in approval, he pointed his chin in Peter’s direction to get you to walk over to him. You held on tight one last time, he’s your protector, he’s not allowed to let boys break your heart. You begged him not to let Peter do this and he’s feeding you to the wolves.

“Dad?” He pushes you away and moves you towards Peter. Your voice broke, he said he wouldn’t do this.

“Peter.” Peter’s eyes moved from your face to Tony’s, his tone warning.

“You’re not allowed to break up with her, understand?”

Your heart warmed, he did have your back.

Peter nodded quickly, “Understood.”

You waddled behind Peter sniffling randomly until you found yourself back in the scene of the crime, your room. You followed in behind him and stood in the middle of the floor unsure of where to go, it was your bedroom but you were acting like you’ve never been in it before.

Your heart raced when Peter shut the door behind him, you held your breath when he let out a sigh, you clenched your fists and squeezed your eyes when he said, “Alright, look.”

You spoke the words stern but slowly, “Dad said you aren’t allowed to dump me.”

He shook his head, you weren’t understanding.

“Baby, I’m not here to break up with you. I’m here to say sorry.”

You opened your eyes and blinked at him, you pulled a face of confusion.

“You’re sorry?”

Peter laughed lightly, “Yes, trouble. I’m sorry.”

You looked around the room, “Okay, but, like, why?”

He drew his eyebrows in, “Darling, I called you a bitch last night. Twice. Pretty sure that’s abusive and vile, nothing to shrug off.”

You looked him up and down, “But I was one.”

He shakes his head immediately, “No, not at all. You-”

“Were being a bitch. You can say it, it’s okay.” You cut him off.

“Baby, no. I was in the wrong-”

You cut him off again, “No, but you’re wrong now. I started it, I instigated it and picked and prodded at you until I backed you into a corner and then when it was time for me to take accountability, I threw you under the bus and pretended I was innocent. I was being a coward. I was an absolute fucking bitch last night and you called me out on my shit and I’m sorry I didn’t have your back. I should’ve defended you against my dad, I was just over it and I didn’t want to admit I was wrong.”

Peter let out a breath, “I shouldn’t have said that, Y/N. It was wrong of me, I don’t want you to excuse it.”

You furrowed your brows and stepped up to him, “I put you in jail for something you didn’t do, I pinned your hands behind your back, and I thought I had reason to attack, but no. We’re gonna have other fights and some of them may be your fault, save your apology for those. Let me say sorry this time.”

“Well then, I accept your apology. And in return I vow to never call you a bitch again,”

You held up a finger, “Unless I deserve it, like last night.” You added.

He grumbled, “Unless you deserve it.”

You shrugged and walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, “It’s okay, really. You know, I even liked it. I think I have a degradation kink.”

“Oh you’re sick.” Peter snorted.

You threw your head back and moaned, “Just like that, give me more.”

Peter squeezed at your arms, “You’re pathetic for crying over me.”

You moved your head back and looked at him and gulped. Peter was scared he took the joke too far.

“Peter, I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

“I’m actually so into this right now, I’m not even kidding.”

Peter looked at you funny, “What verbally abusing you?”

You winked, “Consensually.”

“You really are a sick, twisted bitch.”

Your jaw dropped at his comment, you saw his slick grin crawl across his face.

“Lock the door, Peter. Lock the door!”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #mcu peter parker #mcu angst #my writing

1K notes · View notes

slow-motionlovepotion · 11 months

Text

𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 | 𝒋𝒐𝒆𝒍 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Joel Miller x f!Reader x Tess Servopoulos

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.3K

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ - smut, boston-era, age gap (reader fucks two people old enough to be her parents), girl on girl action, a touch of voyerism (joel likes to watch), threesome, bisexual reader, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it kids), squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, manhandling, breeding kink, slight cum play, lil' bit of fluff at the end.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: what happens when Joel comes home early from a run to find Tess fucking you on his bed.

𝒂/𝒏: throws this like a grenade and runs away fast as fucking possible. i can't actually believe i wrote this, it's disgusting i'm sorry. happy pride to my fellow bisexuals. the mommy and daddy issues are strong with this one ~ no beta, we die like men

You’re not sure how this thing with Tess has started. You’re not even sure what this thing is but it’s become a routine, on nights Joel is away, sharing his bed with Tess, her soft lips pressed to your neck as your rut against her fingers.

You’ve noticed her softening in the months you’ve been doing this. There’s a brightness in her eyes that wasn’t there before and her smile is wider, and a little more genuine. To outsiders she’s still the same hardened, take-no-shit Tess but with you, you get to see her, really see her, glimpses of who she might’ve been before.

Slipping into her building under the cover of darkness, Tess is always up waiting for you and she takes no time pulling you to join her in bed, stripping you out of your clothes and making your breath catch in your throat as you whine her name.

It’s not cheating, not really, since Tess and Joel haven’t really discussed their relationship, that’s what she tells you, that Joel isn't the jealous type anyway. You don’t believe her, you’d seen Joel threaten men for far less.

He isn’t meant to be back for another day or so, that explains why Tess has your spread on the bed she and Joel share. It smells like him, you notice it every time you’re here and sometimes it’s overwhelming, the woodsy spiced scent of Joel. You’ve wondered, once or twice, if Joel can smell you when he returns, sometimes you’d spend a few nights, once a whole two weeks, sleeping in his bed, your sweat soaking the sheets while Tess buries her mouth between your legs.

With your back pressed to her chest and her legs wrapped around yours keeping them spread, Tess rubs soft circles over your clit. Your head rolls back, supported by her shoulder as you whine and squirm, desperate for a bit more friction. Joel hasn’t been on any runs for a while so it’s been weeks since you’ve felt someone else's hands on your body.

“More, please Tess more” you pant, turning your head to mumble into her neck, already half gone. Tess slides her hand further, slipping her fingers through the wetness gathering at your entrance.

“All for me?” Tess teases, she loves you like this. All pliant and pretty for her. You nod and she feels it against her throat. “So pretty sweetheart. All for me” It’s possessive, all for her, she knows you don’t do this with anyone else, not anymore.

Tess pushes two fingers into you, long fingers that reach that spot inside better than your own can

“Oh, yes” you hiss, your orgasm approaching rapidly. She swipes her thumb over your clit as she crooks her fingers sinfully, rubbing that soft spongy spot that makes you see stars, coaxing your orgasm closer and closer.

You hear a faint jangle of keys from the hallway outside, it can’t be Joel, probably just a neighbour, you think, Tess wouldn’t risk having you here if there was even a possibility Joel would be returning, would she?

The front door is thrown open and you hear heavy footsteps crossing the small apartment before the impossibly large body of Joel fills the bedroom entrance, dropping his bag heavily when he’s greeted by the sight of you and Tess on his bed.

Your impending orgasm is lost with the interruption and you whine pathetically at the loss and at the embarrassment of being caught like this. You try to bring your legs together, hide your glistening cunt from Joel’s view but Tess keeps you pinned in place, doesn’t even falter, she slows but does’t completely stop the gentle prod of your g-spot.

“Shit” you mutter under your breath, burying your face further into Tess’ neck, unable to even look at Joel, heat creeping up your cheeks, making you feel hot all over.

You feel Tess’ hand grip into the back of your hair, turning your face to look at Joel. You try to resist but you know when she means business, your eyes meet Joel’s face and you see something unspoken pass between the two of them as his features darken before he makes eye contact with you.

“Don’t stop on my account, finish her off” Joel’s gravely voice sounds tight, like you’re in trouble.

You bring your hand down between your legs, trying to push Tess’ fingers from your cunt, shaking your head as much as her grip on your hair allows

“C’mon sweetheart, be a good girl. Show Joel how pretty you look when you come” Tess’ fingers speed up their motions, withdrawing from your heat before slipping back in, the pads of her fingers hitting that spot every time.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, watching with interest as he props himself up against the divider, thick arms crossing over his broad chest. The sight makes you clench around Tess and she laughs softly in your ear “You like it when he watches?” nudging at your jaw with her nose, prompting you to answer

“Yes” it’s breathy and quiet, barely audible over the sound of the wet slick of your cunt around Tess’ fingers

You’re unable to tear your eyes from Joel because, fuck, he looks good. You’ve always thought he was attractive, in a rugged old-enough-to-be-your-dad kinda way. Your eyes trail from his arms, down the softness of his belly until your eyes land between his legs, even in the dim light the obvious stretch of his jeans over a more than generous hardness is evident. You feel Tess release her grip on your hair, hand finding yours to push it back down your body, your fingers joining hers between your legs. You take the silent instruction, tracing the tips of your fingers over your throbbing clit, eyes closing at the feeling.

“Mm-mm, eyes here” You hear from Joel, opening your eyes to find him tracing the thick line of his cock with his thumb, gripping the head through the denim of his jeans, a hard breath leaving him.

Your eyes track the movement of his hand and you imagine what he might look like with that hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with Tess’ fingers. Fuck, the image sends a throb through your walls and you hear Tess’ breath hitch behind you

“Close” you whisper, hooking your free hand back around Tess’ neck, bringing her closer.

“I know sweetheart” Tess speeds up her thrusts, fucking into you as you roll your hips down onto her hand, your own fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your back is sweaty against her chest, your hair sticking to the back of your neck.

“C’mon sweetheart, you’re right there I can feel it” and you are, your release sparking, flickering with each invasion of Tess’ digits, you need something more, something to ignite the burn settled low in your abdomen.

“Come for us” Joel commands you at the same time you feel Tess sink her teeth into the flesh of your shoulder and you’re not sure which of them lights the match but you’re coming. Heat spreads down your thighs, your back arching in a way that’s pornographic and the groan you let out rattles deep in your chest. You flood around Tess’ fingers as she continues pushing you through your orgasm and when she wrenches her fingers from your cunt something inside you bursts, a scream torn from you as you soak Joel’s bedsheets.

Fuck, you’ve never done that before, you roll your face into the crook of your arm, hiding yourself away from Joel’s intense stare, shame tightening a knot in your stomach. You’re barely able to support your own head with the energy your orgasm ripped from you. Your whole body trembles as Tess soothes you, trailing her damp fingers up and down the skin of your thigh.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Tess murmurs from behind you as calloused fingers cup your jaw, turning your head to meet Joel’s gaze and he’s so close, one knee on the bed, right in the middle of the wet spot you’d made and he obviously doesn’t care about your cum soaking through the fabric of his jeans.

“So pretty, could watch that all day” Joel all but growls, it’s low and deep and there’s a tinge of desperation that sounds good on him.

He roams his eyes down your body, releasing your jaw and bringing his hands to slide two thick fingers through your soaked folds, meeting your eyes again as he slips them gently into your cunt “You always cum like that or was that all for me?”

There it is again. All for me. Possessive. You’re a possession, you belong to Tess, and apparently by extension, Joel.

“For you” you moan. Not all for him, for Tess as well, it was her fingers after all. Although with the way he’s stretching you around his fingers and pumping slowly you might come again, this time all for him. You reach for Tess, clutching at her as she continues the ghosting trail up and down your thighs. Joel notices how your fingers entwine with hers and he turns his attention to her.

You hear the wet sounds of a kiss and a soft breath leave Tess’ chest, you can’t see, squeezed between them as Joel fingers continue their pleasure. When they separate you sense Joel whispering something in Tess’ ear but you don’t catch it. Then Tess brings her lips down, brushing your sweaty hair out the way and what she says makes you melt

“What do you say sweetheart, you want Joel to fuck you?” You whine and buck your hips, almost frantic at the prospect

“Yes, yes please” you feel Tess nod against your ear and see something glint in Joel’s eyes.

You think about reaching for him, slipping your fingers under the buckle of his belt and dragging him to you but you quickly accept you’re not in charge here. Maybe next time. Or not, there’s not going to be a next time, Jesus you’re not entirely convinced Joel isn’t going to kill you after this. Tess may be in charge but you’ve seen Joel go off the rails more than once, he’s a dangerous man.

Joel reaches for his buckle, making quick work of the leather and denim, and boxers you notice, when he comes back to the bed wearing nothing but his faded blue shirt. You do reach for him then, working the buttons much faster than you expected with your shaky hands, eventually his shirt hangs open, greying hair hiding the scars littering his body.

Tess keeps your legs spread, lifting them higher to allow Joel to settle between them. You’re surrounded, Tess behind you, Joel in front of you and you don’t know how you feel but you do know that being shared by them feels right.

“You ready for him sweetheart?” Tess whispers against your ear. When you nod your head Tess tsks “Ask him”

“Joel please, want you” Joel brushes the thick head of his cock over your entrance, letting it rest heavily against your clit

“Again” Tess orders

“Please, fuck please fuck me, want your cock Joel. Need it, wanna feel you-” Joel silences your begging with a sharp thrust, sheathing his length into your wet heat. The sound you make is filthy, and fuck, he’s big.

“Breath sweetheart, it’s a lot, I know, but you can take it” Tess presses soft kisses down your neck and along your shoulder. You blindly reach behind you, desperate for another anchor, something familiar and grounding and when you feel Tess' hair running through your fingers you pull gently.

“So good, taking me so well” Joel moans above you “so fucking tight for me”

For me. You tug lightly on Tess’ hair, stretching your neck up to meet her lips in a soft kiss.

Joel starts moving when your lips meet, jostling you slightly, pushing you further into her and she takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth when you gasp as Joel forces himself back into you.

“Feel good sweetheart?” Tess questions between quick kisses and you nod, whining a barely coherent answer. Joel sets a ruthless pace, thrusting himself in and out harshly, pressing your sweaty body between Tess and his own.

You want more, need more, from them both. You make the split second decision to move, pushing him off you. Rolling yourself over and settling yourself between Tess’s thighs you push your knees up underneath you, raising yourself up for Joel.

You waste no time, peppering soft kisses on the inside of her thighs. You can feel Joel’s knees settling around yours, his hand resting on your hip but he moves no further, watching the back of your head work between his lover's legs. You reach her core, immediately licking into her, nosing at her clit. His eyes flick to Tess when she gasps, he can hear a soft hum come from you and feels you nudge your hips back into his.

Gripping his cock, he pushes the head between your lips, and god, you’re so wet, there’s little resistance as he sinks in.

Joel pulls your knees out from underneath you until you’re flat, straddling your thighs and thrusting himself back in. You whine and he stutters, dropping his forehead to your shoulder, “Fuck darlin’, so fuckin’ tight” you squeeze tighter around him that it’s almost painful, “Christ” Joel moves, almost by instinct, ploughing himself into you roughly, he’s little restraint, watching Tess writhe beneath you, your tongue flicking repeatedly at her clit.

Joel’s pace rocks through your entire body and you start to lose focus, panting around Tess’ clit as you try to control your moans. You can’t, can’t focus on anything other than the burn of Joel’s cock splitting you open. You pull back from Tess, bumping your forehead against Joel’s, getting his attention. When he raises his head you kiss him, you know he can taste Tess on your lips and you realise this is the first time you’re kissing the man currently buried in your cunt.

Joel chases your lips when you pull away but you guide him gently where you really want him, arousal flooding through you when Joel lowers his mouth to Tess’ cunt, flicking his tongue in lazy, sloppy circles. Resting your head against her thighs you can feel her twitch with every pass of his tongue. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, to watch, as Joel continues to drive into you, never even faltering in his thrusts.

A soft plea of your name pulls you from a bubble of bliss, when it’s repeated you realise it’s Tess, you stroke your hand down her thigh, letting her know you hear her

“Fingers, please sweetheart, your fingers” Joel hears her too, shifting his attention to her clit, allowing you to slip your fingers into the wet heat of her cunt. The muscles in her thigh tense against your cheek and you know her tells, you know that means she’s close.

You can feel your own orgasm building steadily, each thrust of Joel pushing you closer to the waves that threaten to crash over you. You suppress it as much as you can, heavy eyes watching as Joel feasts. You glance up at Tess, expecting to see her head thrown back, what you don’t expect is to find her watching. Watching the way Joel is buried between both her thighs and yours, the way he works at her clit, eyes closed, the lines permanently etched on his face softened as he enjoys it.

“Fuck” Tess mutters as both you and Joel work her to release, her hands fist into his hair and her hips rock onto your fingers “like that, yeah like that, Joel fuc-” and Tess whines, a gasp of your name leaving her lips as well. Joel doesn’t let up, continuing his assault on her clit and when you remove your fingers he laps at the wetness leaking from her. Her legs fall slack against the bed, the soft curve of her stomach rising and falling with her panting breaths.

“Your turn darlin’, wanna feel you come round my cock” Joel grumbles into your ear and before you can respond his hands are under your arms, hauling you up Tess’ body, propping you up on your knees between her spread legs as he slides back into your heat. Tess’ lips find yours, catching your gasp when she slips her fingers between your legs. She avoids your clit, instead just resting her fingers at your entrance, feeling how you stretch around him.

It’s overwhelming, two sets of hands on your body, the feel of Joel’s hips meeting yours, and the new angle of his cock hitting just right. You can feel something building, it’s a different kind of pressure, each time Joel withdraws you feel like you could burst and every time he thrusts back in the pressure tightens.

The constant cycle of almost release is punishing, your whines pitching higher and higher with every thrust. Your legs are shaking and you’ve given up kissing Tess, choosing instead to rest your sweaty forehead against hers.

Joel doubles his efforts at your sounds, a firm hand pushing your lower back into an arch, tilting your hips to allow you to take him even deeper.

“Fuck Joel, fuck, I-” you what? You don’t even know, it’s too much but you want more and you don’t know how to tell him that. The sound coming from your coupling is dirty, slapping skin and wet, so wet.

“Wa’s goin on huh?” Joel pants from behind you “Gonna come darlin’?”

“I- I don’t know” you pant, panic rising in your chest at the unfamiliar feeling.

Joel hums behind you and you can hear his smirk. He fucks into you three more times before withdrawing completely and you go into shock, legs trembling violently, hips raising and you’re gushing, your wet release drenching the mattress between your knees

“Shit darlin’” Joel groans as you squirt, eyes locked on your pulsing cunt “Makin such a mess” He slips back into you, thrusting hard and fast and you’re on a high, each thrust pushing you even higher and higher. This time Joel doesn’t pull out, instead the pressure of your release forcing him out against his will.

You hear him growl behind you, fingers gripping your hips, holding your boneless body as he fucks back into you. You can feel Tess whispering praise in your ear but you can’t actually hear what she’s saying over the ringing in your ears.

Her hands gently hold you up, her breath hot against your neck as you clutch at her arms, nails digging into her flesh so hard that if you were more conscious you’d be concerned about drawing blood.

“One more darlin’, one more f’me c’mon” Joel’s slurring above you, thrusts faltering. You shake your head, feeling thoroughly fucked out despite the heat of a more familiar orgasm building. You don’t have the energy to fight it and you relax into it, cunt pulling him deeper, tightening around him. Tess nudges your jaw and you lift your head to meet her eyes.

“You can do it sweetheart” she pushes your damp hair out of your face, bringing your mouth to meet hers and it’s sweet, a stark contrast to the way Joel’s pounding into you from behind.

Joel’s grip on your hip tightens in warning and he starts babbling

“Look at ya, takin it so fuckin well. Such a pretty little cunt. So fuckin tight, don’t understand how you can still be so fuckin tight. Gonna be good for me, need you to come one more time, one more time darlin and I’ll fill you up” You don’t know who his babbling is for but you tighten further at his words, your orgasm sparking.

“Yes yes, fuck yes Joel please” you know you’ve never wanted anything more

“Yeah, y’gonna take it? Lemme fill you up n’ fuck a baby into you?” That’s it, that’s what breaks you, pleasure ripping through your body so hard it’s painful and you sob, tears flowing and chest heaving, mumbling incoherent nonsense as Joel continues to fuck into you.

“Good girl tha’s it. Gonna fill you up, leave you leaking” you can hear how tight his voice is, deep and gravelly and desperate. With a final thrust he buries himself as deep as possible, nudging at your cervix and it’s just the right side painful. “Fuck” You feel him swell as he comes, your abused cunt stretched around him, his fingers digging into your hips already leaving bruises.

Keeping his grip firm on your hips he kneels back, pulling you with him until you're pressed against him. He slips a hand between your thighs, brushing your oversensitive clit and you whine in protest. “No more, please”

“Okay, no more” He chuckles darkly “You did good, didn’t she do good?” he directs his question at Tess and she nods with a smirk

“She did” Warmth blooms in your chest at her praise and the tired smile she has on her face.

You can feel Joel soften inside you and you already miss the feeling, that is until you feel him slip out, followed by the wet heat of his release. You gasp at the feeling, you’ve never had anyone finish inside you before and it’s not entirely unpleasant. You kneel up, cum still leaking from you, adding to the mess on the bed sheets between your legs.

Tess is watching, eyes glazed as she sits up to run her finger through the sticky mess of your cunt before bringing it to her mouth, sucking with an obscene moan and a roll of her eyes. She pulls your lips to hers, licking into your mouth, you can taste yourself and Tess and something unfamiliar that must be Joel. Joel’s cock twitches against your backside and you’re both surprised and concerned, you can’t go again, your body is absolutely done, and thankfully Tess pulls away, a final chaste kiss before she addresses Joel

“Bill have what you went for?” she asks, her eyes dropping to damp curls between your legs

“Yeah” Joel breathes.

You don’t know what they’re talking about but you’re tired and your head feels fuzzy, ears still ringing and you need to lie down. Your knee brushes the wet spot as you move and you freeze “Shouldn’t we change th-”

“‘ll do it t’morrow” Tess mumbles, eyes flicking to the empty bed next to her expectedly and you join her without question. Joel moves then, coming to lay on your other side as Tess pulls you into her, wrapping her arm around your waist, always the big spoon.

Joel pulls the duvet that had fallen to the floor during your activities, throwing it over you all, immediately closing his eyes. You’re so tired, eyes feeling heavy but you don’t want to sleep yet. You want to soak this up, still unconvinced it’s not just a one time thing.

“What are you doing?” Joel mumbles, eyes closed but definitely still awake

“Nothin’” you lie, you’re watching him, basking in this sleepy-guard-down Joel, for only the second time since you’ve known him he doesn’t look like he’s on the verge of killing someone.

“Then go to sleep” he groans but turns his head towards you, his hand finding your knee, bringing it up to hook over his thigh, a silent acknowledgment of affection.

This, this playfulness with Joel, has seemingly come out of nowhere and the realisation has your jaw dropping.

“You knew” you state and Joel fucking smiles. You feel Tess’ smirk through the kisses to you shoulder and all of a sudden you feel incredibly thick

“You told him?” you ask

“He’s known the whole time” she confirms

“You spent two weeks living in my apartment, wearing my clothes and fucking on my bed, the whole place smelt like you when I got back” you bury your face into the pillow at his observation, you’d hoped he wouldn’t notice one of his T-shirts was missing but you feel the heat rising for a different reason when you wonder if he fucked Tess on bedsheets that smelt like you.

“You planned this?” you ask over your shoulder and Tess just hums with a smile “You could’ve just asked me”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she laughs, and you don’t think you know a more lovely sound than Tess laughing. Joel’s hand squeezes your knee under the covers and you know he thinks the same too.

Tess mumbles something like ‘going the fuck sleep’ into your hair and it’s not even a minute before her breathing slows and her arm around your middle becomes a dead weight.

As if the night wasn’t full of enough surprises, Joel’s fingers brush your jaw and when you open your eyes he’s watching you.

“This was a big deal for her. She didn’t wanna scare you off.”

You hum quietly, “Didn’t scare me off, could never” your speech is slurred, exhaustion quickly taking over

“I said no, at first, you make her happy and I didn’t wanna screw this up” that’s unexpected, honesty and vulnerability from Joel.

“Wait, we could’ve been doin’ this for longer?” Joel huffs a laugh in response, it’s genuine and the sound makes you feel fuzzy. “Guess we’ve got some catchin’ up to do” you mumble, you don’t register what Joel says in response, far too focused on what he’d said before.

‘You make her happy’

Happy is something you hadn’t been in a long time and you suspect, something Tess and Joel have been missing too. You make her happy, you’ve renewed her, pulling laughs and smiles with ease.

What’s that Fireflies saying ‘when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light’

That’s you. You’re the light. Tess started a fire within you and she’s been basking in the glow and now she wants to share your light with Joel and you’ll gladly let her.

𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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